There’s no use in crying over it anymore, but I need to figure out what I truly want. Do I want to put my trust in Lorcán and run away? Or do I want to leave them all behind despite the implications? And then there is the most daunting of all my choices: do I stay and figure out how to make this work?
I groan as Lorcán enters the room with a tray of food. My pill is on the side next to the water and apple juice. I nibble on sometoast, testing my stomach before swallowing the pill and taking more small bites. My stomach clenches, but I manage to get all the toast down and a few strawberries.
“You can go anywhere you want within the house,” Lorcán says softly.
“We both know that’s not true,” I counter.
“Your life doesn’t need to be any different from how it was with your pápa.”
My eyes narrow when he mentions my dad, and he sighs, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair.
“I respected Matteo. He trusted me with you and was happy to have me as his future son-in-law. I promised him I’d take care of you, and I plan on keeping that promise.”
“Even if it means being disloyal to your brothers?” I retort, but he doesn’t flinch.
“You’d leave Cillian? You won’t even hear him out?” is his immediate response.
I blink at him, and he sighs, shaking his head like he’s holding something back.
“We both know the safest place for you is in this house. No matter how you feel about the four of us right now. We all just want to keep you safe.”
“That’s not all you want,” I whisper.
“It’s not. I’ve wanted you for a long time, Elena.”
“You never acted on it,” I snark, remembering all the times I wished he would make a move, that he would kiss me or ask for more, but he never did.
“I wasn’t supposed to. It was only permitted if you made the first move,” he shrugs.
“That’s pretty square for a fucking gangster,” I sass, and he rolls his eyes.
He plops down on the bed and sighs, looking at the ceiling.
“You really ran away to the High Roller?”
I glare at him, and he just stares at me. “That’s really what you want to talk about right now?”
“I should have gone there and gotten you myself. I should’ve?—”
“Just shut up, Lorcán.”
“Cillian wants to see you,” he sighs.
“Well, then, he can hobble up the stairs to speak with me.”
“Anthony shot him.”
“I know.”
“Shot at me, too.”
“What do you want me to say, Lorcán? You and I both know he didn’t do it out of the love in his heart for me. I will not apologize for his actions, nor am I going to apologize for running. You’re all big boys. You know the risk of this life, just as I do.”
He turns and blinks at me. The reality of the sweet Omega that was wrapped in steel wool in my father’s house is dead, and I think that realization is hitting him.
“Being around him might make you feel better.”
I wonder if he knows that his brothers are my scent matches; the thought pisses me off.
