Chewing on my thumb, I pace the floor, Killian watching me silently.
“Easy, Coli.” He soothes. “Don’t let all of this set you off.”
Set off my anxiety. Trigger a panic attack. How do I explain that I’ve been battling one since coming off clinicals and realizing Hayes still hasn’t returned—over five hours ago?
It’s a damn miracle I’m not in a ball on the floor, crying. The only thing keeping me grounded is the possibility of Hayes’ return and also my vengeance if Roman hurts him.
“Was it the smartest move to send Hayes back to Bruno’s territory?” I ask. “Given the agreement and the issues between them?”
Killian shrugs. “It was all done for a reason.”
I snort. “Right. Maeve’s reasons. For the clan.” Always for the clan. Did she even think before agreeing to send Hayes into that trial? Or did she ignore the trauma he endured?
He leans forward, hands hanging over his knees, the dull ink of his knuckles catching the low lighting. “It was actually his idea.”
I shake my head. “I’m sure it was done in desperation.” No one would be willing to go back to that.
Killian nods. “In a way.”
“And Maeve just agreed?” I huff. “Typical. If it betters the clan, then there’s no point in wondering how it hurts anyone else.”
Just like Pops.
He clicks his tongue. “Careful, Coli. You don’t know the pressure she’s under.”
“Pressure,” I mock. “She’s Pops. Just in woman-form. She’d rather turn everyone against anyone, use them, bend people to her will. Just to fucking help the clan.”
Forget our talk in the kitchen, she’s putting the man I love into danger all for this silly little trial.
When is it enough? When do good people stop being used?
Killian’s eyes go blank—stone cold and unflinching. “Your sister is half the man your father ever was. Everything she does—everything she did—is for you. For all of you.Watchit.”
Slowly, I look away, winging my hands. “You’ve always defended her.” They were rivals as kids, and yet, he never let anyone disrespect her behind her back.
“Someone had to,” he mutters, looking to the door.
Maeve rushes back in, grabbing her keys.
“Maeve…” Killian warns, seeing her train of thought before I can follow. “If you interfere?—”
“Fuckoff, Killian. What if Roman has him?”
There’s a raw panic to her eyes, something I don’t usually see in my stoic big sister. It’s reflected in my own.
What if he has him?
The primal fear—and rage—curls in my gut along with my anxiety. I need to act—to do something. But as I’m looking at the clock again, the front doors crash open, a brutal wind whipping around us like a force of divinity. Maeve runs out the door and I’m on her heels, Killian thundering behind us.
Hayes is here—kneelingon the floor. In the distance, a shade of pink rests above the tall trees and I exhale. He was close to losing, but he’shere.
Dropping before him, I wrap my arms around his neck and tug him close.
He’s alive.Not caught. Not with Bruno. He’s safe with me. Fucking Christ, my heart soars even as my body shakes and I fight the urge to cry.
“He’s bleeding,” Maeve mutters, looking him over. She doesn’t move closer, crossing her arms over her chest, knuckles white, as if to barricade herself.
Glancing down, I watch the puddle grow as it soaks my knees. Smears stain my sweatshirt and immediately, my mindclicks into action, pushing away the worry and relief, moving into crisis mode.
