Page 3 of Ruthless Reign

Her eyes welled and something in my chest cracked.

“This is your fault!”

She shoved Kaleb, her back heaving with hard breaths as she sobbed. “Why couldn’t you just leave me alone!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, just breathe, Vix?—”

Her body shook as she cried, shoving him again. And again.

“Becca—”

“Why?”

“Becca, please?—”

“Why couldn’t you just?—”

I pounded up the steps, unable to watch her break, not when something in my core rattled at every word she spoke. Because she was right. If we’d stayed away from her she wouldn’t be involved. She’d be painting her portraits and drinking quad shot americanos with her friends while she studied. She’d been watching horror movies on Friday nights and…and dating a guy who didn’t endanger her life just by being close to her.

My throat ached and I coughed as I shoved into the house, pulling at the collar of my shirt until the threads pulled and snapped, unable to get a full chest of air.

I was going to kill him. Séamas O’Sullivan was a dead man. I’d make her safe again. I’d make us all safe. She’d eat her words when this was over. She’d see.

She’d see that she was wrong. That there wasn’t another soul on this earth that would protect her like we would. That would…care for her like we did.

I slammed the door to my bedroom and threw an arm over the top of my tallboy dresser, sending the items lined up there crashing into the wall. Denting drywall and shattering glass.

The heady smell of cologne filled the tight space of my dark bedroom, and as I stepped on a broken shard of the bottle, the sharp curled glass stabbing through the bottom of my boot and into my foot, I fucking flew off. Giving in to the rage, letting it erase every other unwanted emotion, replacing them all with burning, pulsing wrath until I couldn’t feel anything I didn’t want to feel anymore.

Until there was only the sting in my knuckles and the fire running up my spine and a promise of more violence to come.

Inside the house, glass shattered and a feral roar of anguish met my ears. The sound of Hardin in pain snuffed out the fire in my core and dammed the flood of my own emotion.

My hands twitched as I looked up the stairs.

Kaleb looked, too, his jaw set, hands balled fists at his sides.

I swallowed, my stomach souring as Hardin roared again and another great crash broke the silence that followed.

I stepped forward, but Kaleb hooked my wrist, dragging me back. “You shouldn’t go in there right now, Vixen. He won’t see you. He won’t see anyone in that state.”

“I’m sorry,” I said in a weak tone and cleared my throat, trying to bring some strength back to my voice, to my weak limbs. “I didn’t mean?—”

“Yes, you did,” he said, releasing my wrist. “You did mean it. And you’re right. It is our fault.”

I swallowed hard, knowing that regardless of that fact, I couldn’t hate them. Either of them. And the fucking truth was that despite the danger, I wouldn’t have left anyway. Not after I worked so hard, and sacrificed so much to be here. To claim this future for myself.

I wasn’t about to run away again. I just didn’t want to be told what to do. I wanted to choose it for myself. I’d earned that much.

Something Aodhán said to me that day he picked me up near Damien St. Vincent’s house replayed in my mind like it did often ever since.

Family is who you choose and your life is yours to live and no one else’s.

I sighed. I really needed to answer his messages soon. I was worrying everyone with my total radio silence the last couple days, but I honestly didn’t know what the fuck to say.

Both of us winced as another crash sounded inside the house.

“I’ll stay,” I told Kaleb. Swallowing, I tugged gently out of his grip.

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