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I try to shrug him off, but Killian has more strength than I do. Comes from his hitman nature.

“I’ve kept you hidden,” he growls. “Wiped the internet of your connection. But you’re making it difficult to keep you safe.”

I shrug. “Maybe I wanted some fun? It’s awfully boring being in the shadows.”

“Oh, yeah? But still can’t make it to the house to see your sister?”

I freeze, glaring up at him as he smirks. The asshole.

“Hiding kept you alive.” He shoves me. “But you’re throwing that away. Pick a lane, kid. Either you’re in hiding, or you’re not. But it can’t be both.”

“I never said it was both,” I mutter. “But hiding was what almost got my sisters killed,” I retort, shoving him back.

I had to watch behind a screen while they were used, left, beaten. I was trapped, stuck in my torment while they endured. I couldn’t save them. I was marked—but not anymore.

Time to change things.

“Hiding was easy for me. But how many things did I miss, living in the shadows, while my sisters dealt with all the shit here?” I throw my arms out wide. “I’m not hiding anymore, Reaper. Not now.”

He swallows, looking toward the entrance, brow furrowed. I can’t tell if he wants to kill me or hug me.

“And yet you still won’t go see her.”

My mouth snaps shut. He knows why I don’t.

Nodding, Killian continues, “And what happens when this crusade that you decided on gets you killed?” His brow furrows. “What happens when they find you?”

My heart pounds in my chest, but I school my features. “I don’t⁠—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” he growls, smacking my shoulder. Pain radiates down my arm, and I bite my tongue against groaning. “I know what you’re doing. You’re not hiding, no, but people are watching you. They’re waiting for an opening.” He levels a finger in my face. “And don’t fucking think I don’t know what you’re doing tonight. What you’ve been planning. You’re stalking Bruno.”

White-hot anger courses through my body at the name. He’s a live wire, held to my nerves, firing until only anger remains.

Those beady black eyes. That stupid comb-over. How his hands have harmed my older sister, Collins. How he orchestrated my Irish twin, Sloane’s, kidnapping.

How he tried to destroy Maeve. How he’s still breathing when she’s dealing with the fallout of his bullshit. They shouldn’t have to deal with him; I should.

Now’s my chance.

“And if I am?”

Killian narrows his eyes. “That would be idiotic, kid. You’re going to start a war if you attack him.”

“Technically,” I offer, winking, “I’m no longer an O’Brien. I would be an outside party taking out the trash. No war to speak of.”

Killian slams me again, rocking my head back against the wall. Ow.

“You don’t think your sister hasn’t wanted to kill him?” He corners me, growing larger, a ghoul hoping to take my soul. “You think she wants him breathing the same air as her—as your other sisters? You know nothing of what he’s done to her⁠—”

“I know exactly what he’s done,” I counter. “While you were gone, I was here. I kept her covered. I sent her messages at night when she couldn’t sleep. I kept the cops off her trail when her anger got the better of her. I did that—not you.”

A muscle feathers by his jaw, and I grin, sadistic glee floating through me. Oh, I hit a sore spot. Killian hates being reminded that he left my sister for close to two years, while she had to endure the horrors of this world alone. It wasn’t his fault—sure—but it makes me feel better to poke the bear.

If I feel like shit, I want everyone else to go down with me.

“You’re asking for trouble,” he mutters, slamming me once more, but it’s half-hearted. “Trouble that will come back onto Maeve. I won’t have that.”

“Going to kill me, Reaper?” I laugh, turning toward the street. “You wouldn’t be the first to threaten me. Nor the first to try. You’ll have to get in line, though. I’m told people are looking for me.”