“Oh, how many people told you that in the last month, huh?” I demanded. I felt out of control and hadn’t meant to yell, but I did. “How many lives did you ruin? You weren’t running the type of whorehouse where the workers are safe. You were stealing lives, weren’t you?”
Cillian’s eyebrows shot up and he dropped his dick to stand there almost like I’d slapped him.
Ilya snorted. The fucker laughed. I didn’t think—I snapped. I jammed the end of the bat into his nose, then brought it back, gasping in pain, and drove it against his jaw. Rowen let out a low, “Ouch.” Ilya’s head lolled forward, and I doubted he was knocked out, but his jaw hung strangely and tears flowed freely from his squinched eyes.
A strong arm around my middle surprised me and Aspen dragged me backward a few steps. I leaned against him.
“Too much,” he said. I glanced over my shoulder at him, and he gently pushed me back onto my feet and stepped to the side.
“Damned fine, though.” Cillian nodded, chin jutting forward. “Good job.”
“Och, ye arse,” Rowen said. At first I thought he was talking to me, but he stepped closer to Ilya, whose eyes had closed. “Don’t ye go dyin’ on me. We weren’t supposed to feck him up beyond repair.”
“What, that’s fine.” Cillian waved his hand at the injury. “Nothing a hospital stay won’t fix.”
“He’s breathing,” Aspen said, as if he wasn’t hoping for anything more.
“That jaw’s broken.” Rowen didn’t sound as if he cared too much.
Aspen took my elbow and the bat clattered to the floor. My stomach lurched and I spun toward him. He didn’t let go. Anger pounded through me, not at Aspen, more at the world. Ilya all fucked-up didn’t feel good. I hadn’t gained anything from it. I wasn’t feeling better—if anything, I felt worse. “I’d rather just kill him,” I muttered.
Cillian made a positive sound as if he thought that was a good thing. “Aye, slugger, but we got our marching orders.” He winked at me, and I groaned. I got the feeling this nickname was going to hang out for a while.
“Don’t call me that.”
Aspen snorted.
Rowen shook his head sadly. “Well, now he won’t stop, will he? Ye have two brothers and ye don’t know how this works? Ye gotta pretend ye love it, then they’ll stop.”
Cillian only grinned at me, and it did bad things to my insides that fucking up that dickwad in the chair was what made him do it. I wanted to wrap my arms around Aspen, but I knew I shouldn’t. I stomped forward and kicked Ilya square in the chest so that the chair tipped over backward, and Cillian hopped out of the way and let it crash to the floor.
“Okay,” Aspen said as he went over and easily helped Cillian set the chair and Ilya upright again. “Okay.” He nodded as if I’d babbled all the shit floating around in my head the way Vail did, but I fucking hadn’t. He studied me, and I felt ripped open and exposed.
Aspen came over and settled his hands gently on my shoulders. “Do you want to go home?”
Cillian grunted. “Like hell. Slugger stays, he’s just getting his eyeteeth in and we’re going to make sure they’re sharp. This is his right.”
The words sounded so sincere coming from him that weirdly enough, guilt burst to life in my chest. I rubbed my thumb over my throat. I should want to do this if I was a real Company man, but I’d already had enough.
Rowen cleared his throat. “Cillian, he only got home yesterday. He’s knackered.”
“Feck that, he stays. Aspen, why don’t ye show him some fun and games? If he isn’t feeling up to swinging around a bat, there’s other ways to flay the bastard.”
Aspen sighed. “Let him wake up first. No fun in slicing up an unconscious man.”
Cillian nodded and grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Aye.”
“Give us a minute.” Aspen hooked his thumb toward the doorway to the falling-apart kitchen, and I trailed after him as he went that direction. When he entered the room, he flipped on the overhead light, and the second I was close enough, he snagged my hand and pulled me to a corner; I figured it was so it wouldn’t be easy for Cillian to step over to the doorway and see us. I bristled at the concern on his face.
Cillian and Rowen were talking about something in low voices in the other room, and I hoped like hell it wasn’t me losing my shit that was the center of the conversation. To steady myself, I stared at the chipped yellow paint on the walls, but it didn’t help. “I know,” I whispered. “I’m supposed to want to do this.” I yanked my hand free and crossed my arms, grunting at the pressure it put on my healing ribs. Aspen didn’t let me stop him; he took a step closer and wrapped his arms around me while studying my face.
“You really wanna kill him?”
“It would be easier.”
Aspen nodded. “In some ways.”
“I already killed one guy,” I said.
