Page 70 of Crimson Tears

“Don’t leave,” she murmurs.

“Sweetheart,” I say as I push a strand of hair back from her face, “I never left.”

She has no idea how true that statement is either.

What? You think I just stopped following her, watching her and everything she did after her sister died? If anything, that whole experience made me watch her more closely.

I contemplated killing her father so many times, but in the end I went against it because of the position that would ultimately put her in. She would either be hunted by her father’s men, or she would have been forced to lead them. Neither was a fate I wanted for her.

And yet, one of those is still the hand she was dealt.

So, I watched her every move. I killed a few men who tried to attack her when her father wasn’t looking, then framed them as suicides. It was easy, half of the Irish Reapers were total idiots. One of the men had a bullet hole in the back of his head. Except he was laying over a suicide note that wasn’t even in his own handwriting, and they just nodded and accepted it.

Really, I had no idea how Donovan managed to stay ahead for so long being as thick in the head as he was. Surely there was very little room for thinking inside of that dense skull of his.

Over the years, Nessa and I went on many strolls through the woods together. Well, I knew we were together, but she didn’t. Some call that stalking, I call it protecting the woman I love.

I watched her run to the cliffs when it all became too much, just to shout into the wind. I clenched my teeth as her father stepped on her neck at every turn in order to keep her under his thumb. I saw her cry, listened to her grieve, and then I witnessed her change.

It was a difficult moment for me to accept that she was no longer the woman I met on the side of the road, the one that saved me. But I continued to fall in love with all of her changes.

She went from a girl who loved to run barefoot through the woods to a woman who climbed trees to kill her targets. It was drastic and deadly, but also down right feckin’ sexy.

“Cillian,” she rasps, pulling me from my thoughts.

“What do you need?” I bend over her, listening carefully as her voice struggles to speak.

“I need you. B-both of you. D-did he leave?”

She tries to open her eyes, squinting as she peeks around the room.

“He went to get the team.” I rest my hand on part of her back that isn’t bruised or cut up and rub small circles. “He’ll never leave you, Sweetheart. Neither will I.”

A tear slips down her cheek onto the mattress.

“He already tried to leave.”

I shrug. “I’ll barricade the door next time.”

A small smile tilts her swollen lip. “You can’t force him to stay.”

Her body aches for rest, so instead of arguing, I help her take one last sip of water before curling my body around her.

“I won’t have to force him. We are all in this together.” Her bottom lip trembles. “He told me so.”

A small sob breaks free, and she pulls my arms closer to her.

“Just rest, Sweetheart. It will all be over soon and you will be in both of our arms.”

She bobs her head slightly, her body instantly drifting to sleep. With the injuries she sustained and the way her limbs tremble in her sleep, I can tell she has an infection. The first aid kit didn’t have things like antibiotics, just a few butterfly bandaids and disinfectants.

Feckin’ useless. If you were running an underground torture fest wouldn’t you want to have more supplies? I mean, come on.

All I can do is hold her tight and hope that Boris finds a way to get us out of this.

Chapter 21

The warm summer breeze flows through my hair as I walk along the beautiful trail just off the coast of Ireland. The day could not have been more perfect. Having just turned eighteen, Cillian brought me out for a day date. Ever since we turned sixteen, we had been flirting with the line between dating and close friends.

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