"I said I'm fine." My voice sharpens. I force myself to look back at him, to keep my expression neutral even as emotions threaten to surface. "I'm okay."
He studies me for a long moment. Then something shifts in his posture. He looks almost... awkward. Uncertain.
"I shouldn't have left you alone last night." The words come out rough. Like they're costing him something. "In the kitchen. After everything. That was..." He stops. Starts again. "I'm sorry."
I stare at him. William Murphy, apologizing. Showing regret.
"You owe me nothing," I say carefully. "I didn't expect you to stay."
Hurt crosses his face. His jaw tightens, and just like that, the softness is gone. His gaze hardens back into that familiar hostility.
"Right." The word is clipped. Cold.
He turns toward the door.
"My men will be ready in twenty minutes," he says without looking back. "You'll go with them to see your father."
He stops at the door. His hand on the handle.
"And Aoife?" He glances back over his shoulder. "When you come back here, you stay. No more leaving without security. No more taking chances. Understood?"
It's not a question. It's an order.
I lift my chin. "I'm not one of your soldiers."
"No." His eyes hold mine, and there's something complicated in them now. something unreadable. "You're something far more dangerous."
Then he's gone, the door closing behind him with careful control.
I stand there in my towel, water dripping onto the carpet, my hands still gripping the fabric so tightly my knuckles are white.
Something far more dangerous.
I don't know what he meant by that. Don't know if I want to.
William Murphy looked at me like he wanted to devour me. Like he hated himself for wanting it. Like if I'd made one wrong move, one invitation, he would've crossed that space between us and...
I shiver. Not from cold.
A soft knock at the door makes me jump.
"Yes?"
The door opens a crack. A young woman in a staff uniform stands there, holding a garment bag. "Miss O'Rourke? Your brother is downstairs. He asked me to bring these up."
She holds out the bag, eyes carefully averted from my state of undress.
"Thank you." I take the clothes from her.
She nods and disappears, closing the door quietly behind her.
I'm alone again.
I drop the towel and pull on the clothes Reilan brought. Beige high-waist trousers, undergarments, a cream off-the-shoulder pure wool jumper that was a gift from an aunt in Galway. The kind of clothes that remind me of who I am. Simple. Elegant. Mine.
I feel more like myself immediately. More armored. Less exposed.
I pull on the boots and slip into the long beige jacket Reilan included, then check my reflection in the mirror. My hair is still damp, but I look human again. Look like someone who can face what comes next.
