Page 58 of Dublin Devil

“It’s a solid no.” She hands me back my plate and sits at the end of the bed with her back against the footboard. “Toss me a pillow.”

I do as she asks, and she sets herself up, facing me with her legs stretched out beside mine. “Time for you to rest. I’ll watch to make sure the bleeding doesn’t get worse. Then, we’ll see how things turn out after Kelvin checks you over tonight.”

“You’re worrying about nothing, Piper.” I gesture to the bandages and scowl. “It’s not even that much blood.”

“No means no, Sean. Now, finish your breakfast or I’ll go back to my room.”

I arch a brow and flash her a smirk. “My kitten has a bit of wildcat in her.”

She grins. “After the past four days, you might not realize I have claws, but I do.”

I wave away her words. “Only someone with claws could’ve survived what you did. I imagine it took a lot of fight and strength to grow up in the McGuire household.”

She grows a little sullen, so I focus on eating the rest of my breakfast and leave her to her thoughts. Laine was right when she said that a few more days would allow Piper time to grow stronger. And, with a nudge here and there from me, she’ll leave here understanding how capable and valued she is.

The silence that follows is comfortable and I think she might doze off until she touches her cheek and bites her bottom lip. “What is it like having a scar so noticeable? Do people comment on it? Do they ask you where you got it?”

She’s studying the scar that slashes down my cheek and cuts into my lip. It’s a stark reminder of a terrible time that marked me when I was twelve.

“It changed how strangers saw me. Teachers and kids at school treated me differently. Like I was a tough kid, or a bit broken.”

Piper’s fingers trace the tender flesh of her cheek. Of course, she’s worried about her scar—she’s always been seen for her beauty, and now it exposes a vulnerability.

“It never changed the way people close to me treated me, though. The people who knew me saw past the damage. At home and with my truest friends, it was never an issue.”

“It’s earned you a reputation on the street, for sure,” she says, offering me a sympathetic smile. “There are all kinds of local myths about how you got it.”

I chuckle. “I’ve heard a few. The one about the crossbow and the clowns high on PCP is my favorite.”

“But not the truth?”

I laugh again. “No. One of Da’s competitors snatched me off the street after school one day when I was a kid. They meant to use me as leverage, but there was a spot where a vent cover was unscrewed in the room where they locked me up. I bent back the metal to climb free, but my face and my hands got sliced up bad.”

She squeezes my thigh through the sheet and swallows. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine. It doesn’t bother me. It was so long ago I’m over it.”

“I can’t imagine being over it. I’m terrified that I’ll see it every time I look in the mirror and think about Vladmir attacking me and about my father throwing me away.”

My chest tightens at her words, and more-so, the pain and fear laced through them. I run my hand gently up the inside of her ankle. “What was done doesn’t make you any less beautiful.”

“Liar.”

I’m not lying—not even a little—but having been where she is, there’s nothing I can say that will convince her of that. All she sees is the carnage of violence and betrayal. “Plastic surgeons can do incredible things. I bet they can erase the damage or make it so it’s barely noticeable.”

She looks at me, her gaze seeking reassurance.

I squeeze her ankle. “But even if you’re left with a scar, it’s okay. That scar, like mine, is a symbol that you survived the worst night of your life. It’s proof of your strength, not a sign of weakness.”

Piper’s eyes glisten, and she draws in a deep breath. “Do you really believe that?”

I tap a finger against my lip. “Knowing my story, what does my scar signify to you?”

Her mouth eases up into a sweet smile. “That you were strong enough to survive even when you were alone, scared, and in danger.”

“Exactly. And that’s what anyone who knows you and loves you will see, too. If they don’t, they aren’t your people and they don’t matter.”

The moisture in her eyes brims over and I open my arms. She crawls up the bed and sinks against me, burying her tears in my chest.

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