He’s re-caged me, and it’s like a sheet draping back over my ability to function, breathe and think.
“Why,” I murmur, my voice strained and breathless as my head dips between my shoulders, “why have you betrayed us like this? Where has your loyalty gone?”
I curl and uncurl my hands, flexing against the bonds, but they’re tight and unforgiving. I close my eyes, forcing a few slow breaths. Iron coats the back of my tongue as my heart fights to escape the prison I can’t.
“Are you that fuckingblind?” Noah’s eyes are dark, and he rubs at his jaw where my fist landed.
It wasn’t a particularly powerful punch. I’d relied more on the surprise of the action, but there’s a flutter of satisfaction at seeing his reaction.
“Blind?”
“You have drifted by on life,” Noah remarks, “a mafia princess, and yet you attend school and visit Italian clubs like there is no danger in it for you. You study because you want to help the family, yet you have never stopped long enough to truly look at what has been happening. Always something more important.” Noah scoffs, and those words catch me, drawing my internal spiral to a screeching halt. I lift my head to eye him.
For a moment, I’m too shocked to respond. Thankfully the surprise slices through the fog of pain in my head, and I almost can’t feel it now.
“What are you talking about?” I ask. My voice trembles and my heart races faster as if trying to rip right out of my chest and avoid hearing the truth from Noah.
“The family is crumbling, don’t you see it?” He sneers darkly and kneels to retrieve the water and sandwich. “The deal with the Russians was too good to be true, but your father went for it anyway, too concerned by the rising power within the Italians. Now our businesses are crumbling, and your father is too proud to tell the Italians how deep his debt runs. Some of us haven’t been paid inmonths. You expect me to feed my family with loyalty?!”
His voice rises, and I hear the water bottle crinkle under his grip. He comes to stand in front of me, staring down, and for a moment, I fear he will strike me. Either as revenge for my own blow or out of frustration he cannot take out on my father.
“That’s no excuse to turn tail like this,” I snap sharply though my tone has lost some of its edge. I had no idea how bad things really were. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that the money difficulties would trickle down to something as simple as making sure our men were cared for and fed. A swell of guilt rises in my stomach and I fight to squash it. “You could have asked for help, my father—Killian would have helped!”
“Italian money means nothing when there are Russian dogs at your door,” Noah replies coolly. “Handing you over though? It shows fidelity and a willingness to help. Plus, I getpaid.”
“Money?” I scoff, and an itch crawls over my skin. I’m pinned beneath his gaze and the guilt is rising in my stomach, but I can’t move; I can’t escape his eyes. I tug at my bonds regardless, trying to calm the overwhelming urge to escape him while having nowhere to go.
This isn’t my fault,I think to myself.I don’t deserve to suffer for something I had nothing to do with!
“When my father gets here, he’ll kill you for your betrayal,” I snap and anger tints my tone. I want to threaten him, scare him so he’ll step away and stop looking at me like he’s won. “He’ll probably skin you alive first!”
Noah simply laughs.
“Your father is in no condition to lead; never mind coming here to save you and kill me,” he remarks, andfinally,he looks away. His attention drops to the bottle in his hand, and after tucking the sandwich under his arm, he cracks the cap open. “He’s lucky we followed him as far as we did.”
Hearing the reason for the betrayal calms my anger somewhat because everything shifts into my hopeless realization that if Noah thinks like this, he definitely isn’t the only one. Everyone I care about could be in danger from ourownpeople.
Maybe Callahan is already dead, the intrusive thought sounds off, and I close my eyes, forcing myself to swallow around the dry iron spearing my throat.
Noah leans forward, holding out the bottle, and I reluctantly part my lips. He tips the cool liquid into my mouth, and the chill of hydration turns me greedy. I must be dehydrated. The hopelessness continues to crash over me in waves, fuelling the path my mind takes as I try to calculate who could be next to turn on the family if they haven't already.
We’d never expect an attack from the inside; everyone could already be dead.
Except Killian.
The thought bursts so sharply into my mind that it almost blinds me. My heart skips a beat. Killian barely trusted my men and me to begin with. The chances of him getting caught out by an Irish betrayer are slimmer than everyone else. I swallow the last mouthful of the offered water and squint up at Noah as he pulls back and begins to open the sandwich.
“Fine,” I state and strength is renewed in my voice. “My father might not come. But Killian will.”
He charged into the school with no apparent care for his own wellbeing. He waded into my building, looking formewithout a second thought, andsaved me.
He’ll save me again… right?
I cling to that thought as a shadow of doubt moves across Noah’s face and his hands pause on the sandwich wrapper. It gives mehope. If Killian had been killed at his apartment, there’s no way his name would be a threat now. Noah would throw his death in my face for sure. The flurry in my heartbeat takes on a different note now, fuelled by adrenaline rather than fear.
Noah remains silent, and I smirk.
Killian has to be alive.Hehasto be. And he’ll come for me.