“I want to be your husband, Livvie,” he says. "I’ve fallen in love with you and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it."
His confession leaves me exposed, naked in a way that goes beyond the physical. He’s given me his vulnerability, his regret, his heart, and if I wasn’t so torn up inside, I’d be giddy.
“I—I love you too. In fact, I fellfirst." I pause, my heart pounding in my chest. "But the Red Tribunal won’t leave us alone. They want you dead, Kingston. If I refuse to do it, they’ll kill my whole family… I won’t ever turn on ya… I promise. But I can’t sit back and let them murder every O’Callaghan in Ireland."
When the water is gone, Kingston offers me his hand, his narrowed gaze lingering on my fresh cuts and bruises.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, his voice rough. “Even like this.”
I take his hand, letting him help me out of the tub. “Kingston… don’t change the subject.”
He wraps me in a soft towel and hauls me into his arms again, his strength effortless as he carries me back into the bedroom.
He lays me down and climbs onto the bed beside me.
"Leave it to me, Livvie. My brothers and I will handle things from here. I don’t want you involved in this shit anymore. I’ll make sure no one makes contact with you or threatens you again."
I let his words settle, absorbing the offer of safety he’s giving me. It should be enough, and for a brief moment, it is.
His warm body against mine and his breath steady in the quiet of the room give me peace.
But as I drift off to sleep, the shadows of the day loom, and I slip into a nightmare.
The darkness comes fast, too real, too vivid. The sounds of Roman’s gargled chokes echo in my mind, the lightness of a blade puncturing flesh… the blood… God, the blood everywhere.
And then it’s Kingston’s face, his complexion snow-white and spattered in red, his eyes dark and dead.
I wake up with a jolt, gasping for air, my body trembling as if the nightmare is still chasing me.
I turn, heart pounding, and see him beside me, sound asleep, unaware of the storm tearing through me.
While I steady my breathing and tell myself he’s very much alive, I stroke his arm, torn between the life I want with him and what’s necessary.
He’s offered me safety. He’s promised to protect me. But I know, deep down, that I’m not the only one who needs protecting.
And if I don’t make the hardest decision of my life, he’ll die.
So I climb out of bed, knowing what I have to do.
32
KINGSTON
I wake up to cold sheets and the kind of eerie silence that makes my gut clench with foreboding.
I slide my hand across the mattress, searching for Livvie’s warmth, the curve of her hip, anything. But there's nothing. Just empty space where my wife should be.
"Livvie?"
My voice echoes off the bedroom walls. No answer.
I sit up, every muscle in my body coiled tight. The bathroom door is open, but the light is off. I strain my ears to pick up on any sound. There’s no running water. No music. No light patter of footsteps moving across the floor. No sign of life anywhere in the penthouse.
Something's fucking wrong.
I'm on my feet before my brain fully catches up. Her clothes from yesterday, the torn, bloodstained shit we peeled off after the warehouse standoff, are gone. So is the towel we left crumpled on the bathroomfloor.
"Livvie!" I call out, louder this time, my voice reverberating between the walls.
