Her breath comes out in broken, panicked bursts, and I can feel it against my chest. “Malachi’s going to kill me,” she whispers. “I gave him the wrong passcode. He knows I’m here—with you.”
Everything in me stills.
I cup her face, force her to look at me. Her pupils are wide, wild with fear, tears clinging to her lashes. “Hey.Look at me.”
She shakes her head, trembling. “He knows. You don’t understand—he knows where I am, and what I did, and he’s not going to stop—”
“Don’t worry about it, dove.” My voice is low, calm. It has to be. “I’ll take care of it.”
Her hands clutch my shirt like she’s drowning. “You can’t keep protecting me.”
“Yes, I can.” I brush my thumb along her jaw. “You have a concert tomorrow. You’re going to play. The world’s going to watch you burn in red and gold again, and no one’s going to touch you. Not while I’m still breathing.”
Her lower lip trembles. “You don’t understand—”
“I do.” I press my forehead to hers. “I know you’re scared. I know you’re angry. I know you think this is all your fault, but it’s not. It’s mine. I should’ve told you the truth years ago.”
She sobs again, shaking her head, fingers tightening around my wrist. “I hate that I still love you.”
I smile against her hair, broken and small. “Good. Then we’re even.”
She lets out a choked laugh that turns into another cry, collapsing against me. I hold her, rocking slightly, murmuring soft Irish under my breath until her breathing steadies.
“Come on,” I whisper, finally. “Let’s go back to bed, darling.”
I lead her down the hall, our fingers tangled, her steps unsteady. The house is silent but alive—the old wood creaks, the storm outside claws at the windows, the faint scent of whiskey and smoke still lingers in the air.
We lie down. Her head finds my chest like it always has. My hand slides up her spine, tracing the rhythm of her breath until it matches mine. She’s still crying, but softer now. Quieter.
“Sleep,” I murmur. “I’ll handle Malachi.”
Her eyes flutter closed. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
I press a kiss to her hair and stare at the ceiling until dawn, knowing exactly what I’ll have to do to keep it.
1.Baby, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did.
2.Dove, listen to me.
3.Do it. Kill me. Don’t let me live.
