“With a ring that big and ugly,” he says, voice low, smooth like warm ash, “you’d sink before you hit the water.” He takes a drag from his cigarette, the tip flaring red, and I swear the smoke curls into a grin.
He finally yanks me back, the world snapping upright. My hands land against his stone chest, his grip still locks around my wrist.
I shut my eyes for a moment, the scent of smoke and wood wrapping around me, his cologne threaded with the forest.
He’s standing too close, close enough I can see the ink etched along his collarbone disappearing into the open collar of hisblack shirt. The triplets all have a tattoo in that area, but they’re all different, it’s how you tell them apart.
We’re mafia, but the Messinas hold more power. If they wanted, they could wipe us out in a blink.
It would be an ugly war, but one the Messina family would fight until the end. The war began when Uncle Liam killed Matteo’s grandmother, long before he was born. That alone is enough for them to want our blood. No matter who you are, if you’re Irish, they hate you.
The silver cross around his neck glints in the dying light. A snake hangs beside it.
I try to step back, but his hand still grips my wrist, burning against my skin. Finally, he lets go, only to raise the cigarette to his mouth, his eyes still fixed on me as if he’s reading secrets. Does he know who I am? He can’t. If he did, he wouldn’t have pulled me up, he would have let me fall, and no one would ever know it was him.
My heart hammers from fear, from the cold, from him. “You’re shaking,” he murmurs, the cigarette balanced between two fingers. “Is it the wind, or me?”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. My throat’s too dry, my body too aware.
He steps closer, the space between us vanishing, and suddenly his mouth is right next to mine. Not touching, but close enough I can feel the heat of him.
He exhales, slow, deliberate, and smoke fills my lungs, sharp, smoky, his. I don’t move, I feel it settle inside me like a secret.
His lips curve. Barely, and then, softly, he speaks. “Didn’t expect to find an O’Brien trying to throw herself off a cliff before term even started.”
I freeze.
He knows.
My chest rises sharply, but he doesn’t move. His eyes drop to my mouth, then to my throat, watching my pulse pound a hundred beats a second.
“Careful, little lamb,” he murmurs. “Wolves like me hunt up here.” And with that he turns and walks back into the darkness of the woods.
The trees swallow him.
One second he was here, breathing smoke into my lungs like he owns me, and the next, gone. Shadows close over where he stood, and the only thing left is the slow sting in my chest, the echo of his voice still rattling around in my head.
“Careful, little lamb. Wolves like me hunt up here.”
My fingers twitch at my side, every nerve sparks where he touched me.
No one’s ever looked at me like that before. Like I’m a puzzle he already knows the answer to. Like I’m a fire he wants to pour gasoline on.
He knew my name. O’Brien.
I turn back to the cliff, boots digging into the gravel, as I look down at the waves, wondering if tonight was the night I would have jumped. The mist thickens in the air, maybe it’s the cold, maybe it’s the mess inside my chest.
He should’ve let me fall.
I wish he had. It would’ve been easier.
I tug at the sleeve of my sweater, my hand brushes the ring, and I freeze. It’s still there. Stupid and shiny and heavy. A symbol of the deal that sealed my fate, a medieval contract disguised as gold. I yank at it but it won’t come off.
Maybe it knows. Maybe it knows I’m stuck.
They’ve locked me in gold chains and called it honor. They’ve tied me to a man I can’t even look at without wanting to vomit, and all I get in return is the power it gives the O’Briens in Hollowunderground. A seat at a table. A future I don’t want. A name I already hate.
The woods start to thin as I walk toward the hilltop to join my family. I can hear the low thump of bass now, carried on the wind from the party deeper in Hollow Hills. Laughter. Voices. Someone shouting someone else’s name. Bottles cracking open. Music pulsing like a second heartbeat.
