The man I’d shot.
I tried not to think about it.
The moments leading up to his death were a blur of action. The fight. Me taking the gun. Him falling to the floor. I didn’t have a choice, but it was awful to think I’d knocked that man down permanently. This wasn’t a game. As much as I liked to compare things to a fight in a ring, he didn’t get up when we were done. There hadn’t been a ref to call the match when I was close to dying. There were no rules, and one man hadn’t walked away afterward.
It had almost been me.
I leaned against Aspen. “These fights we get into aren’t just for fun,” I said, feeling stupid. “They’re real.”
Aspen cuddled me closer, and I breathed in his clean, crisp scent. I loved the way he smelled. I kissed the soft skin of his neck, and he ran a hand up my back to tangle in my hair.
“Ye can’t do shite like that! Come on. I expect this gobshite from Rowen, not ye.” Cillian was too loud, and I straightened.
“Hey!” came an outraged squawk from the other room. “What did I do?”
“He’s gotta stand on his own two feet!” Cillian came into the kitchen but stopped when Aspen glared at him. I’d never seen either of them looking quite so pissed.
I tried to jerk away, but Aspen didn’t let go. “He is. I’m supporting him, that’s what we’re here for. And I can think of a time or two I’ve had your back, exactly how you needed it.”
I’d never seen Cillian stunned. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth as if he wanted to argue.
I scrubbed at my face. “I’m just tired.”
Cillian shook his head.
Aspen huffed. “Mm-hmm. We’re doing it this way, all right.” He went over to the counter beside the sink and opened a brown leather case. He pulled two blades out and gave one to me, the black metal cool in my hands and surprisingly light. He held his knife up toward the light bulb burning overhead and ran a finger along the cutting edge. “What did he do to you before we got to you? Other than stomp you.”
“What?”
Aspen glanced at me. “Did he put his fingers on you?”
Heat spread up my neck to my cheeks and I felt like I was on fire. “Yeah. I mean, I was the goods, right?”
Aspen nodded and went into the torture room. The blackout blinds were pulled all the way down to the windowsill so no light outside could get in, and the overhead light made everything seem too dim and surreal. He went to one knee behind the chair.
“What happened to waiting for him to wake up?” Rowen asked, but Aspen ignored him, and I stared in transfixed horror as he sliced off the pad of Ilya’s left thumb. He did the same thing to his index finger, but when he started to slice the flesh off his middle finger, Ilya shrieked. I felt sick as he kept going.
“Do the other hand,” Aspen said, loud enough to be heard over the hellish sounds. “Cillian wants you trained.”
Cillian strode over beside Aspen. “For feck’s sake, he has to be tough. I wasn’t trying to prove a point.”
“Yes, you were,” Aspen said simply, and I wished, once in my life, I could be that cool under pressure. He didn’t glance up or bat an eye, just finished destroying the tip of Ilya’s pinkie.
With a sigh, Cillian stormed over and snatched the knife out of my hand. He went around the chair beside Aspen and quickly made the other hand match. Ilya went silent and his head fell forward. Maybe he’d passed out again. Rowen went to the wooden wardrobe and came back with a large green plastic bottle and an old towel, and he muttered and cursed as he took Aspen’s place. He opened the bottle and started on the fingers, dumping something on each one. Red powder scattered over the floor.
“What’s that?”
“The cheapest wound seal money can buy. It’s for farm animals,” Rowen said. “We go through a lot of it when we’re trying to keep someone around for a while.”
My stomach roiled and I didn’t get any closer. Aspen took Cillian’s knife and went into the kitchen. I followed him and leaned in the doorway. He worked carefully, filling the sink with water, then cleaning his knives.
“Do you want me to do anything?” I asked.
Cillian stomped over to stand near me. “Ye bucking foreejitof the year, slugger? Yer bodyguard wouldn’t be happy with that. And keep in mind, if Mr. Killough ever asks, ye didallof this.”
Aspen raised his eyebrows and glanced our way, then smirked.
I knocked my head back against the doorframe. For half a minute Cillian had been proud of me, and I’d fucked it all up.
