Page 152 of Quinlan

Being folded into Rome’s arms puts me in a vulnerable position. Because I want to be comforted by his warmth.

Because he slides a hand to my throat and it’s so easy for him to squeeze it. To warn me.

“I can’t. Please.”

No one knows what happened but my parents and Rex. I was ordered by both to keep it to myself. Truthfully, I never intended for anyone else to learn the truth about that night.

I still don’t. “Please don’t make me.”

“We will. But not like this.” Damien climbs into the bed, lowering to sit on his knees at our side. He pulls the covers over me. His knuckles graze my skin, and fuck, I hate that there’s so much comfort in his touch. “You won’t do it naked.”

My breath catches as he presses the covers up to my collarbone, hiding my body from them.

“This will be a clothes-on discussion,” he whispers conspiratorially.

Everyone in the room can hear him, everyone can see I’m hardly what you’d call dressed. But he pretends we’re the only people in the world. That I’m safe with this monster. With this wounded person.

I feel it.

Damien continues, handling both my hands up, closing my fingers on his to keep them in place. “You’ll have this on, as long as you’re good.”

And there he is. The real Damien. I’m not even disappointed, I just need to deflect until they forget what they asked me to begin with. This isn’t fair to Liam. This isn’t fair to me, to have all of this taken from me. They’ll never want to be with the real me. Ever.

“What’s wrong with you?” My squinted eyes are the one tool I have in my arsenal. My one mask. And I used it. “All of you?”

Damien watches the harsh frown on my face, uncharacteristically silent.

He doesn’t care that I’m mad. Or it amuses him. Probably that.

Smooth as ever, he lowers to sit on his shins. His eyes glint in the dim light filtering from behind the bookshelf.

“For everything that’s holy, what Liam went through turns me into a murderous motherfucker.” His gaze slides from Rome to Liam and then to me. “It’s a knife to the chest. Has been every day for the last twenty-four years. Your story won’tovershadowhis. It won’t belittle it. And we sure as fuck won’t pity you for it. So you’re going to tell us, for the sake of—”

“Look at it as a trust exercise.” Liam’s hand is firm on my thigh. Pressing it down and pulling it to the side, over Rome’s leg. “By trust, I mean, this is the part you’re going to trust us. No more outsiders stalking you. No more files and pictures. We’rehereaskingto hear it from you, Quinlan. No one else. That’s how it’s going to be going forth. You’ll talk to us. Okay?”

“Gee, thanks for not being completely deranged.” My sarcasm is a defense mechanism.

Doesn’t take a genius to realize it.

Rome isn’t fooled by my tone, that’s for sure. His fingers lock tighter around my throat, reminding me he’s there. That he hears the lie in my voice. That he cares for me still.

The harsh touch cuts some of my air supply. He tips my head toward the ceiling. I can’t see what his hand necklace looks like. Can’t look at the raw, scraped knuckles.

But I’m fully aware of one thing. If he so chooses, he could crush my windpipe.

I’m not terrified of him, though. This isn’t what he’s aiming for, either. The reason I’m clutching to the covers is the fear of going down memory lane. That, and Liam’s story. I swear I can smell the smoke. A part of me is in that closet, right there next to him.

“Little flame.” His hand sears me through the covers, his voice rugged. “My past can’t hurt me anymore. The person who did it will pay. Other than that, it’s uncomfortable. It creeps up on me out of nowhere. And you make it better, you hear? You make it fucking better. Let us make things better for you. Let us offer you what no one ever has, and that’s justice for you. The police reports were falsified, I’m sure of that. Your mind was poisoned with lies, I’m sure of that too. That ends here. You will talk. You will tell us what happened.”

“You will let us make it better.” Damien leans over me, his teeth a threat on my earlobe.

“Or else?” Not an ounce of poison seeps into my words. But I don’t want to tell them. God, everything hurts.

“You’re testing our patience.” He bites me there, and I shriek. “Cute.”

“Feels like she’s playing a game.” Rome nuzzles my other cheek. “A game you’ll lose, sweetheart.”

“That’s how you’re asking me to tell you about my dead brother?” Maybe I do have a little more fight left in me. “About the worst day of my life? By taunting me? Are you really that cruel?”

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