Page 28 of Destructive Truths

Without tearing my eyes from her, I back up towards the house. Behind me, my sister places her hand on my shoulder. “Be careful, brother. Delicate hearts are easily broken.”

Ignoring her warning, I deflect the conversation. “I’ll see you in the morning, Bev. Keep her—”

“She’s not a glass doll, Liam. She’s not gonna break.”

SEVENTEEN

ROHAN

Everything hurts.

My head throbs.

My ribs ache.

Not to mention, over the past few nights, every time I closed my fucking eyes, her face appeared, stealing any chance of sleep. Fuck. I’m strangled by the foolish decision to let her go. Exhausted by my self-depreciation. But most of all, I’m burning with regret.

It’s for her own good. I can’t be what she needs, especially when my dad has a tight grip on the noose around my neck. Determined to make me one of his lap dogs, Gabriel will try anything to keep me on a short leash, using the only people I care about—besides Saoirse—to keep me in check.

That ball-less cunt knows I’d do anything for my mam and little sister. If it means they are safe, far away from him and his calculated schemes, I will play by his rules. Somewhat, at least.

When you spend enough time in hell, you learn how to dance among the flames.

Gabriel has a plan, one that involves breaking Saoirse Ryan. He gave me a strict set of instructions before he tossed me on the Devereux’s doorstep. Little does he know, I have a game plan of my own, one that will see both my family and Saoirse are safe.

Keep her close, he’d said. Make her choose you. Don’t fuck this up, Rohan, because if you do, I will rip the last breath from her lungs while I make you watch.

Unfortunately for him, the second he told me to keep Saoirse was when I knew I had to let her go. Normally, I am a selfish son of a bastard, but when it comes to her, everything I ever knew about myself goes out the window. For my ploy to work, I need to convince Gabriel I am following his playbook. Even if that’s the last thing I’d ever do.

Unfortunately, Gabriel is a calculated, narcissistic bastard. But nobody knows the devil as well as his spawn. What he sees as his strengths, I’ll use against him. He wants to move me around the board, a measly pawn in his game, but he’s forgetting a crucial detail—he created the monster in me, and that fucker is rearing to break free.

My dad wants me to set Saoirse’s world on fire, fine. Little does he know, while her building is burning, I’ll shelter her from the flames. First things first, I need to remove myself from her life and keep my fucking distance. That’s where Liam comes in. He was the only way out of this mess—my only option. Sure, the lesser of two evils is still evil, but at least this way, Saoirse is safe from whatever sick, twisted game my sperm donor is weaving.

She is love.

I am hate.

Today I will break her heart, but I will pick up every piece, keep them safe, and guard them with my life. As her king should.

My pen glides through my fingers like a baton as I lean back on the rear legs of my chair, unfazed by the other students milling into our English classroom. School is the last fucking place I want to be, but graduating is a syndicate requirement. Not to mention, I wouldn’t give my father the satisfaction of hiding behind the bruises he left.

If I’ve learned anything these past weeks, nothing ever comes from running away from your problems. Which is why when Liam and Beibhinn left for the cabins, I gathered my shit and dragged myself back to the pool house—with the reluctant help of Aodhán. Like it or not, if I am to watch Gabriel’s every move, I need to stay close, and living on the King property allows me to survey his every step. A small price to pay to ensure Saoirse’s safety.

Suddenly, as if conjured from my thoughts, Saoirse appears in the doorway looking as fucking breathtaking as ever. Her hair flows over her shoulder in tempting dark waves, framing her delicate features to perfection. Eager to commit every curve to memory, my eyes rake over her black-and-purple uniform, lingering on the hem of her skirt.

Fuck! What I wouldn’t give to hike her skirt around her waist and feast on her sweet little cunt.

My throat dries as a lump lodges my airway, but that doesn’t stop my mouth from watering at her tan, toned legs that somehow seem as though they go on for days—even though she’s barely a hair’s breadth over five foot.

Motherfucking Christ! Keeping my hands off her is going to be way harder than I thought.

“You’re doing a stellar job at hiding your attraction, mate.”

Tearing my eyes away from Saoirse, my glare lands on Aodhán seated at the desk in front of mine. He’s twisted in his seat, peering back at me with a smug smile teasing his big fucking mouth.

“Fuck off.”

His teeth sink into his bottom lip, and he eyes me with a furrowed brow. “Have I mentioned I think your plan is ridiculously stupid?”

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