Vala Walsh has had her eye on Caine for as long as I can remember. There’s no power to her name, and he never once made me believe the feelings were reciprocated. How did I miss this?
Caine’s hands find my face as he turns me to look at him. I hear Vala scoff behind me, like she wasn’t just fearing for her life.
She should.
My body stiffens as his hands caress my cheeks. I’m frozen. Confused and broken as my heart lay on the floor.
“I love you, Mal. This isn’t what you think it is,” Caine whispers in desperation. I can see tears forming in his eyes, but he’s obviously one hell of a liar.
I smile at his pathetic attempt to pull me back in.
My head flies forward, crashing into Caine’s nose. He stumbles back, cursing. I spin on my heel and grab another handful of hair, pulling Vala from the hotel bed as she screams for help.
No one is coming for her. Her brother knew what might happen in here, and he walked away anyway with disgust clear on his face. I know what resentment looks like—I see it on my mother’s face every time she looks at me. Men in power have this thing when it comes to their names being tarnished. Sean Walsh may only be thefuturesecond in command, but he still has something to lose. Vala threatened that.
I shove Vala to the ground without letting go of her hair, and chunks of red curls stick to my hand when she falls to the floor with a cry. I can see Caine straighten in my periphery, and I turn to him, waving at the trash I just dumped on the ground.
“Not going to fight for your whore?” I ask, genuinely curious why he’s not trying to stop me.
“Caine, please,” I hear her say through sobs, and my leg kicks out. The tip of my platform boot flies across her cheek, sending her sprawling backward. I’m tired of listening to this bitch beg.
“I don’t want her,” Caine grits out. “I love you, Malia!”
And that’s all I need for my vision to go red and my body to go numb.
Looking at him now, I still see the regret. I didn’t kill Vala that morning. For me, death was too easy a punishment for her. I heard somewhere that Caine had shot her after I stormed out, though. I should’ve killed him, but I don’t want any more regret in my life when it comes to him.
Giving him that much power over me was the only lesson I needed in love. He used me and broke what little bit I still had intact. Rumor has it that he was going to propose to me that weekend. And as I stand here in front of him, staring into those regretful, hazel eyes seven years later—at my vying ball, of all places—I realize he’s here to steal my hand again.
Lion’s arm tightens around my left one as we all stare each other down. I can’t hear anything except the sound of my own shuttered breaths. This is the first time Lion or I have seen Caine since the incident. And judging by how stiff his body is, Lion is remembering what I went through after. He was the one to pick up the pieces, after all.
“Byrne,” Lion all but growls. I’m just relieved someone is talking. “Can’t say I’m surprised to see you here.”
Caine tilts his head, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Castello. I could say the same.” He shrugs. “Come to steal your best friend’s hand?”
Lion’s body vibrates in anger—we all know what he means by that comment. Judging by the way Lion is grinding his molars, though, Akila may be the only one between us that doesn’t.
“That’d piss you off now, wouldn’t it?” Lion sneers. From the corner of my eye, I can see Akila looking between all of us in confusion. “You’ll be relieved to know that’s not happening, but neither are you. Watch yourself, Byrne.”
Lion goes to pull us in the opposite direction, but I drop his arm. His head snaps up, brows furrowing. I need to address this head-on so I can be done with it.
He dips his chin in understanding. “Let’s go, doll,” he says to Akila as he pulls her further into the ballroom.
Caine clears his throat as his eyes rove over my body, and I almost want to shrink away. “Mal, long time no see…”
I scoff and try to use my attitude as a mask. I should’ve taken Akila up on that jet thought. I knew Caine was going to be here, and I’ve been dreading it for months. My hatred for him burns deep, but I can’t shake off the feeling of unease. Parties and crowds are where I thrive. Saria did an amazing job with decorating, and I wish I could enjoy this.
I’m about as used to feeling nervous as I am to butterflies and gooey lovesickness—almost nonexistent. And as much as I’ve dreaded seeing Caine again, he’s not where my nerves stem from. The bane of my existence is in this ballroom right now, most likely watching this interaction. I can feel him, but I can’t see him.
Liam is here.
Caine is a reminder of why I fight my feelings for Liam, the catalyst to my distaste in what I believe love to be. Caine smiles, and I let myself look him over. He’s always been handsome, classically so. Ash-blonde hair, pale skin, hazel eyes, and full lips—that much has stayed the same. His once boyish features have been replaced by sharp lines, and the broadness of his shoulders and his narrow waist showcase the muscle underneath his tailored suit.
I watch as he rakes his teeth over his bottom lip while I compare the similarities and differences. He had always been a bit full of himself, even at sixteen. Now the man is almost twenty-seven and leading the Irish mafia. My lips purse in disregard. He always did look good on my arm, but even his beauty does nothing to atone for the way he betrayed me. He doesn’t know the pain he caused, what he created that day.
My gaze lazily leaves him as he goes to talk, and I ignore him. I can feel Liam’s eyes on me, and I want to know where he is. It’s always best to know where your enemies are. Despite whatever happened between us in the time he thought I was Mila Williams, his threat from the day he bent me over that table echoes in the corner of my mind, reminding me he is just that.
An enemy.