"I mean it, Sean." I back toward the house, my eyes never leaving him. "Just… stay away from me."
And then I turn and run.
Behind me, I hear him call my name, but I don't stop or look back. I just run—up the front steps, through the foyer, past Mrs. Brady, who's emerging from the kitchen with a concerned expression.
"Maeve, dear, what?—"
I don't answer. I don’t think I could speak right now even if I wanted to. I just keep moving—up the stairs, down the hall, into my bedroom. I slam the door behind me and lock it, then sink to the floor with my back against it.
My hands are shaking. My whole body is shaking.
I close my eyes and see it again—Sean's fist connecting with the man's face, the blood, the cold fury in his eyes. The way he moved… so fast, so controlled. Like that violence was as natural to him as breathing.
This is who you married.I can hear his voice, rattling in my head, and a sob escapes me before I can stop it.
He's right. That is who I married. Not just a man who doesn't want me, not just a cold, distant stranger forced into this marriage by the Council. But a killer… a weapon. Someone capable of brutal violence without a second thought.
The Wolf of Dublin.
I don't know how long I sit there, my back against the door, trying to process what I just saw. Trying to reconcile the manwho softened, briefly, in the garden and looked at me as if he were trying to understand me for a moment—with the man who beat someone half to death in our driveway.
Eventually, I’m startled out of my thoughts by a soft knock.
"Maeve?" I hear Sean's voice, muffled through the door. "Can we talk?"
I swallow hard, shaking my head even though he can’t see me. "No."
There’s a silence, and then he speaks again. “I want to try to explain…”
Part of me thinks I should soften, open the door. Give him a chance to make this better, somehow. But how could he? And how can I risk it? How can I allow him an inch when opening myself up to trust this man in the slightest could bring me incomprehensible pain in the future?
I harden my voice. “There's nothing to explain. I saw what you are.”
There’s another pause. "I won't hurt you."
A bitter laugh escapes from between my lips. "You just almost killed a man in our driveway."
"He threatened you. That's different."
"Is it?" My voice trembles.
"Yes." His voice is closer now, like he's leaning against the door. "I don't hurt women, Maeve. I don't hurt innocents. What I did to that man—what I'm capable of—that's reserved for people who deserve it."
"And you get to decide who deserves it?"
Another pause. Longer this time.
“I take orders,” he says finally. “From the Council. So no, Maeve, I don’t usually go vigilante like that. But…” He draws in a breath. “He threatened you. He…” Another sharp breath. “I told you already. He walked in and demanded things from me.Treated you like shit. You’re my wife, Maeve, and this is my house now. I won’t allow that to stand.”
"I don't want to hear this." I press my hands over my ears, childish as it is. "I don't want to know."
There’s another silence. Then, "too late. You're part of this now." I can hear the frustration in his voice now, his patience waning. What there was of it in the first place, anyway.
Mine is waning, too. "I didn't ask to be!"
"Neither did I!" His voice rises, the frustration bleeding through. "You think I wanted this? To be married to a girl who looks at me like I'm a monster? To be responsible for someone who—" He stops abruptly.
"Who what?" I demand from the other side of the door. "Who's too weak? Too sheltered? Too stupid to understand your world?"
