Page 109 of Stolen Rebel

“Don’t,” I repeat, louder this time. My chest tightens, something hot clawing its way up my throat. “Don’t stand there and tell me it’s okay.”

The courtyard stills like the whole Mahoney world is holding its breath.

“I wasn’t okay.” My words shake now. “I wasn’t okay when he took me. I wasn’t okay when he kept me. And I wasn’t okay when you tracked me without my consent. Do you have any idea what that feels like after everything he did to me?”

Sorcha flinches like I slapped her. “Rowan, I⁠—”

“No.” I take a step forward, closing the space between us. “You don’t get to brush this away. Not right now.”

Her spine straightens. “You’re family.” Her voice—and eyes—are firmer now.

“You told Patrick that you had the tracker removed from your car, yet you put a tracker on me. Why?”

She shifts her gaze to Liam, then to her husband who’s appeared beside her. “I can’t explain it. An instinct. A feeling. The other day I thought I saw something in the fields across the road.”

“What did you see?” Patrick interjects.

“Like a flash. Almost as though someone was watching the house with binoculars. It was there and then it wasn’t. I could have imagined it.” She turns back to me. “I just wanted you safe.”

A broken laugh rips out of me. “Safe?” I echo.

My hands come up before I can stop them, fisting in the front of her coat, shoving her back a step—not hard enough to hurt her, but enough to make the point.

“You could have just told me what you saw, Sorcha. I would have listened. But you didn’t. You decided for me. After everything we’ve both been through, you thought it was okay to put a tracker on me like I don’t get a say in my own life?” My voice cracks on the words, my hands shaking around the fabric of her coat.

Sorcha’s eyes flash, her own temper rising to meet mine. “Like I said, I just wanted you to be safe. I was trying to protect you.”

“By making me something you could monitor instead of someone who gets to choose?” I fire back. “I guess you’re more like the Mahoneys than I thought.” My shout echoes off the stone walls. There’s not so much as a bird chirping in a tree; everything, everyone is deathly silent. Not even Patrick steps in, which surprises me considering he’s ultra protective of Sorcha.

My chest heaves with ragged breaths. My grip tightens for a second before I force myself to let go, shoving her back one last time as I step away.

“I spent five years being controlled.” My voice is quieter now, still shaky—but somehow it carries more weight. “Five years swallowing everything I thought, everything I felt, everything I knew… because I was told I was wrong. That I didn’t understand. That I needed to trust someone else’s version of my life.” My throat burns as the words make their way out into the space between us.

My eyes sting, tears blurring my vision. “That stops today.”

Sorcha’s expression shifts. Her fiery anger’s still there, but something else creeps in now too. Understanding, maybe even an ounce of regret.

“I’m not Erin.” I keep going, unable to stop even though I probably should. “I’m not the girl who goes along with whatever someone else decides is best for me. Not Liam. Not you. Not Patrick. Not anyone.”

My voice wavers but just for a second. “I don’t need any of you to save me. I’m capable of saving myself, as I proved today. What I need is for you to trust me to make my own decisions, even if they’re the wrong ones. I don’t need any of you deciding what I can survive.” I glance up at Patrick, and I still can’t tell if he’s going to high-five me or shoot me. His expression doesn’t change, but he still hasn’t moved to stop me either. I’ll take that as a good sign.

The tears hit before I can stop them. But I don’t hide them, I don’t turn away. I stand there and let them fall.

Because this isn’t weakness, it’s catharsis.

Sorcha takes a step forward, slower this time. “Rowan…” There’s no argument lacing her voice now.

“I’m probably going to be angry for a while.”

She nods once.

Rationally speaking, I know she was only doing what anyone else would have done, but add it to five years of coercive control, and it just feels like the one person I was starting to trust to have my back outside of all this did what everyone else in my life did too; she took the choice out of my hands.

I heave out a sigh, my shoulders aching from the tension knotting in my muscles. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand what you were trying to do.” Another shaky breath weaves its way into my lungs. “Brian’s mother told me she’d been watching the house, so you didn’t imagine what you saw. I just need you to understand that trying to protect me doesn’t mean taking the choice away from me.”

“I hear you,” she says quietly. “I’d do it again.” She pauses. “But this time, I’d tell you about it first.” She exhales slowly, like something uncomfortable has finally clicked into place. I know how things started between her and Patrick; he took away all of her choices. And now, hopefully she’ll remember that and won’t take away mine.

My shoulders sag even more, the fight draining out of me, leaving nothing but exhaustion in its wake.