Page 3 of Callum

“Callum, be serious.”

“I can assure you, I am deadly serious.” Unconsciously, my grip tightens against her throat. Angry eyes bore into mine as she drags in a shallow breath, but she doesn’t push me away. “And I’m about fucking done with the attitude.”

“Running away isn’t a legitimate option, and you know it.”

“I do not ‘know it’.” I lean my body further into hers, reveling in the feeling of her pressed so tightly against me. God knows I love when she’s defiant but now is not the time. “How about you explain it to me, kitten?”

“I can’t leave my family, Callum.”

“Your family?” The word forces its way through my teeth, a twitch starting in my right eye. She doesn’t know the true meaning of Family.

“Callum, please. I owe them every—”

“I owe everything to the MacAlisters,” I grit over her protests. How could she think her attachment to the GiGi’s is stronger than the bond I have with my brothers?

Rosalind’s gaze narrows, my meaning loud and clear. “That isn’t fair—”

“I’ll tell you what isn’t fair; I gave up everything for you, and you won’t even consider giving up Ginetta fucking Ricci for me.” I have to force air into my lungs, calming my voice for one final attempt to set this right between us. “Run away with me, kitten. Let’s leave the Underworld. We can move somewhere beautiful and normal.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We’ll go west, into the mountains—”

“No, Callum,” Rosalind’s hand snaps to my wrist, her nails digging into my skin until I feel them break through the surface. “What do you mean you gave up everything?”

Her entire body is taught, energy pulsing beneath her skin as if she’s gearing up for a fight. I wanted to do this another time, in a way that wasn’t mixed up in our Families and our anger, but it doesn’t look like I get the option. “I chose you, kitten.”

“Chose me how?” Her question is barely above a whisper, and I know she already has the answer. She’s just afraid to admit it.

My knuckles run along her cheek, dancing across the soft skin between the fresh cuts. “Marry me, kitten.”

She doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but those eyes give her away; the hard set of them more than answer enough.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I growl, using the hand at her throat to push myself off the wall. She drags in a shaky gulp of air the moment we’re no longer touching, and I hate it. I hate that she can breathe without me. “You’re seriously choosing them over me? You’re a fucking GiGi! That’s scraping the bottom of the barrel on a good day. The only thing worse are the Romans, and we all know—”

“Don’t you fucking talk about my sis—”

“I don’t give a fuck about your ‘sisters’!” Anger seethes out of me, pain pushing against the inside of my chest until it feels like I have to crack myself open or die trying. “The GiGi’s don’t need you, kitten. They don’t need you like I do.”

The flare of her nostrils is the only warning I get. My kitten has always been predictable with her fists, and I easily dodge the one aimed at my face. She’s quick, though, and I don’t catch the second punch to my ribs in time. I grab her around the waist, spinning our bodies until she’s pressed into the wall with my chest against her back. My lips brush against the shell of her ear, and I feel her shiver. “Don’t do this.”

“You’ve done this, Callum.” She snaps, using her weight to push off the wall. Quick as lightning, she’s facing me again, this time with a knife she pulled from some hidden sling. I sidestep her forward momentum, our bodies crashing together as I pin her wrist to the wall hard enough that she nearly drops the knife.

“Stop.” We breathe each other’s air for a moment, her eyes sweeping across my face as if trying to memorize every inch of it.

“Why do you even want all that bullshit anyway? Marriage and babies and eternal happiness. It’s all a lie.” It’s an argument we’ve had so many times before that there’s no conviction left in her words. Her body melts into mine as our foreheads press into one another.

“I hope you know what you’re choosing.”

“I don’t have a choice, Callum.”

“You always have a choice,” I turn toward the door, putting distance between us before I do something I will regret. Rosalind makes a sound, the beginning of a question or an argument, but I don’t want to hear it.

Our eyes meet across the room, and I know she sees the truth on my face. I’m not going to come back for her. I won’t save her—not this time.

Never again.

“You chose wrong, Red.”

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