But he was meant to go out because it was actually his time. Not because the Bratva decided to execute the clan’s patriarch for revenge.
They killed him in humiliating fashion, smothering him as he lay terminally ill and helpless in bed. They don’t plan on stopping anytime soon so long as we’ve got Jhene.
Ronan’s made his position clear. He’ll do whatever is necessary to win against the Bratva.
Jhene doesn’t matter to him… or really anybody else in the clan.
I’mthe one who’s made her a nonnegotiable.
Something’s got to give; somebody’s going to end up on the wrong end of the stick. That somebody very well could be Jhene…
“Hey,” she whispers, squeezing my hand. “You okay?”
I can’t bring myself to answer, merely giving her hand a squeeze back. We’ve gotten in line to view the casket, but as everybody shuffles forward and we make it toward the front, I change my mind at the last moment.
“I’ve got to go,” I say. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”
But I should know better than to think Jhene would hang back without me. She simply clutches my hand tighter and falls into step beside me, keeping up with my brisk pace.
“I’m coming with you,” she murmurs.
I clench my jaw. “You don’t have to?—”
“Haven’t you figured it out by now? I go where you go, Killer.”
We fall silent as we walk out the cathedral doors and enter the warm summer morning. I lead us to the Escalade we’ve driven over in, getting behind the wheel but refraining from sticking the key in the ignition.
Jhene slides into the passenger seat and folds her hands in her lap, patiently waiting out my bad mood. I’ve gotten her new glasses since the old pair was broken—frames that fit her face properly—and they sit perched on her nose as she stares out the windshield.
I breathe through the storm of rage bottled up inside me, then go to insert the key in the ignition. Instead I wind up releasing a frustrated howl and banging my fist on the steering wheel.
She jumps out of alarm and then reaches for me. I shrug off her touch before I realize how it comes across.
It doesn’t deter her.
She remains calm as she tries again, gently touching a hand to my arm. “Killian… it’s okay.”
“No… it’s not…” I snap my eyes shut and tip my head back against the headrest. “Seamus Callahan’s dead because we fell for the Raguzins’ games. Nothing about that is fucking okay.”
“I know,” she admits quietly. Then she lets out a slow breath. “I guess I more so meant… it’s okay to be angry. Take it from somebody who does it—bottling up emotions isn’t a good thing. Let it out.”
I cut her a sidelong glance, the same tense expression etched across my face. I’m aware I must look like a moody,sullen asshole. A large, intimidating, angry brute next to someone half my size, so gentle and calm.
You’d think Jhene would shirk away in fear. But she simply blinks at me from behind her glasses, her brows knitted in concern and her full flips arranged in a small frown.
I don’t give a fuck what Ronan or anybody else in the clan thinks—giving her up isnotan option.
My heart pounds faster inside my chest, adrenaline building. The rush I get whenever I think of how I feel about her.
…how I’ve come to fall for her the way I have.
“It’s not your fault anyway,” she sighs suddenly. Her gaze drops to her lap. “It’smine, Killian. If I hadn’t come into your life, none of this would’ve happened. Seamus would still be alive. The Banshee wouldn’t be burned down. Tom and Teagan never would’ve been hurt. The Bratva wouldn’t be?—”
“Not another word.”
Her large coffee-brown eyes snap back up to meet mine. She’s startled by how firmly I’ve interrupted her. Basically a way of telling her to shut up.
I make it clear why only a second later.
