A few more days pass and Killian is standing in the hall as Collins and I return from a late date. It’s normal being with her—spending our afternoons in the bookstore, coffee and tea in hand as we peruse the shelves. She only goes to local places, picking up previously loved books, hunting for the ones that people have left handwritten notes in.
Standing in a black crop top and a pair of jeans, his hair falls into his eyes as he nods at Collins. She gives him a friendly smile, carting her purchases upstairs. I stop, looking at the reaper, shoulders tense.
He doesn’t waste time. “Assassination attempt while he slept. Didn’t work.” His dark eyes scan me, lips tight. He’s on edge about something, his weight shifting between his feet. “He always has someone watching at night. Never the same guy.” He takes out one blade, twirling it between his fingers. “You’re up.”
“When?” I ask, placing my bag beside a new bouquet of white roses.Odd.
“You start tomorrow.” He glances over my shoulder to the main door. I turn to see a sedan pull up and I whistle low.
Shit.I know that car. Maeve’s boyfriend is dropping her off.
The reaper’s face is full of barely leashed fury, eyes so dark no light penetrates them. It’s the promise of stark retribution. “I don’t need to remind you what will happen if you lose this.”
How can he focus on me when he looks like that? “I won’t.”
Luckily, I’ve had my plan ready to go for days. If I miss this chance, it won’t go to anyone and I’ll be in the hole. If I win this, I’m tied to the top with Finn.
Reese Silva opens the door for Maeve like a true gentleman. Dressed in a smart suit, he pulls her to her feet. She doesn’tlook like a mob leader now—she’s dressed in a tight red dress and long wool coat. They must have gone out for a lunch date to some swanky place.
The heat in Killian’s eyes is a blistering branding as Reese pulls her close, wrapping a hand around her waist. When he leans forward, Killian’s teeth grind.
I don’t know why, but I step in front of the man, blocking his view. “You don’t need to be here.”
If I want him to leave my friend alone, I should let him watch her kiss the guy. Maybe that’ll break whatever spell is cast over him. It would certainly do it for me.
But instead, I block it. Hope to limit his pain.What the hell is wrong with me?When did I start caring about the reaper and his feelings?
Killian glares at me and he looks like the murderer I know he is. Alright, maybe I don’t care about his feelings. Maybe I care about the effect his psychotic rage will have on all of us.
“I’mfine.”
The front door opens, bringing with it a chilled breeze and our Captain. Her cheeks are flushed, a small smile on her face, hair windswept. She looks almost happy.
Killian looks ready to strangle someone.
“Twenty-four hours,” he snaps, eyes never leaving the woman. “Make them count.”
I don’t bother to stay. It’s between them and now, I’m conflicted. I don’t want Killian around Maeve—he broke her heart, shattered it and then abandoned a woman who’s never had anyone to depend on. But he’s been trying to help me, he knows my secret and still, he doesn’t look at me with disgust.
I almost pity him. It must suck to be in love with a woman who doesn’t want you back.
Taking out my phone, I send one line to Briar to activate my plan.
Me: We’re a go. Twenty-four hours starts now.
Sittingon the outside of the glass case, I lean back in the metal chair, the phone to my side. I keep my hands on my thighs—close enough to pull my knife but not to attract attention.
Score one for Briar having a guard at the entrance.
My side is relatively quiet with one guard in the far back, a bored expression on his cookie-cutter face. On the other side, two guards stand by the door, and it opens, revealing Senior himself.
My body tenses, and I have the strongest urge to hide. I haven’t seen him since I left that house—him lying on the floor, bleeding out from a head wound I gave him before stealing my mother’s ring. I was only able to do it due to junior’s fault.
My brother has never been astute. He couldn’t handle Ace when they were kids, and he couldn’t do his job duties right by Senior. When he came to let a guy out of my room, drunk and smelling like old perfume, he never properly locked the door.
And he never chained me back to the floor.
I grabbed a small bag, threw whatever I could into it—some clothes, a few things to sell—and snuck out.
