“Let me go, Kian!”
“This is for your own safety.”
Before I can comprehend what he is planning, Kian swiftly places me in the wardrobe. My mind slows down, and it takes me a moment to gather my wits. Before I can even utter a word of protest, they swiftly close the door, trapping me inside and filling me with sheer terror. I manage to push myself onto my knees, desperately pounding on the door. Through the narrow crack, I catch a glimpse of Kian securing something around the handles, and then both he and Tristan exit the room, leaving me behind in a state of confusion and fear.
A surge of adrenaline courses through me, causing my heart to race uncontrollably. Betrayal slices through my chest at how easily they left me in here. My stomach churns, and spots begin to dance before my eyes. Digging my nails into the door, I drop my head, resting it on the wooden surface.
Why? Why would they do this?
I needed to get out.
“Please . . . ” I whisper into the dark.
I can feel tears begin to roll down my face, and I know I need to be stronger than this. They will come back. They weren’t like my foster brother. But still I desperately try to push on the doors, but they only budge a tiny bit, held closed by whatever they have tied them shut with. I try calling out, but my voice emerges as a raspy wheeze, fear clogging my throat. I bang my fists on the doors, resting my head on the cool, smooth surface.
Shouts can still be heard from outside, and I know something is wrong. A knot tightens in my stomach, a primal instinct warning me that danger lurks just beyond.
Is this Madeline’s doing? Alivar?
My chest squeezes painfully as I only manage to draw in the smallest amount of air. I lean all my weight against the doors and begin whispering the lullaby my mother sang to me as a child, my eyes falling closed.
I don't know how much time has passed before the doors are suddenly ripped open, and I fall forward. My heart stalls as I brace for the impact, but strong, secure arms wrap around me, catching me as I fall. The relief that consumes me is instantaneous, and I find myself unable to suppress the sobs that emerge from deep within my chest. Maxon’s arms spasm around me, and his resounding growl moves over my skin.
“Shit!” Raiden curses, his voice sounding furious. “Who the fuck put her in there?!” he bellows.
I don’t lift my head from where I’ve buried it in Maxon’s neck as he rocks me. I can sense his confusion at my reaction, but only Raiden knows of my fear.
Maxon’s large palm smooths over the back of my head as he carries me over to the sofa and takes a seat with me in his lap.
“Stóirín?” he whispers, his deep, rough voice full of emotion.
I can’t sense his emotions right now. My own are front and center, overriding everything else, embarrassment now replacing the fear I was trying to overcome moments ago.
The sound of Kian's voice reaches my ears. “I just needed her to stay put and not leave the room while we checked out what was happening. I didn’t think she’d react like that.”
“You should never lock someone up unless it’s in the dungeons for a fucking crime. That’s where I should send you two for the shit you just pulled. Everly cannot be locked up!” Raiden yells, the walls seeming to tremble with his anger.
“Stóirín, talk to me.”
I know I need to explain myself, but now it feels incredibly foolish.
“You are not foolish,” Maxon growls.
My heart skips a beat, and I pull back enough to meet his gaze. I can feel my eyes are puffy from crying, and wish like anything that I could be rid of this damn fear.
“Seeing you like this breaks me.” Maxon leans down, rubbing his nose along mine.
I wrap my arms around him, holding him as tight as I can for several moments before taking a deep breath and turning to face the room. Slowly, I raise my eyes to look over at Raiden. The fury burning in his eyes steals my breath. I push from Maxon’s lap and make my way over to him, wrapping my arms around his massive form.
“It’s okay,” I whisper into his chest.
“It’s not,” he replies, his voice harsh and gruff. “I should throw them in the dungeons.”
“They didn’t know.”
“I still don’t even know,” Maxon snarls as he stands.
He’s still in his fighting gear, his armor still hugging his frame. He looks stunning, a vision of striking handsomeness that makes me feel like the luckiest woman alive. His features stand out even more thanks to the way his long, dark hair is pulled back in a half-up, half-down style.
