Page 148 of Bonds of Obsession

I glance in the mirror. There’s a cut above my eyebrow I can’t even feel. “I’m fine. You look like you went ten rounds with a cheese grater.”

He huffs out a laugh that turns into a wince. I step between his legs, carefully cleaning the gash on his temple first. His hands settle on my hips, steadying me or himself, I’m not sure which.

“It could’ve gone a lot worse,” he mutters. “If that Dark Lotus backup hadn’t shown…”

“Don’t.” My hands shake slightly as I clean his wounds. “We made it. That’s what matters.”

His fingers tighten on my hips. We both know how close it was and how easily this night could’ve ended with one or all of us dead instead of Ambrose.

“This needs stitches,” I mutter, probing the deepest gash on Killian’s temple. He doesn’t flinch, just watches me with that intense stare of his as I thread the needle.

“This isn’t the first time we’ve done this,” he says with a grunt. “Although usually I’m the one stitching you up.”

I smile in acknowledgment, remembering the times his steady hands have pieced me back together. The first stitch goes in, and his muscles tense under my free hand.

“Hold still,” I tell him, although he hasn’t really moved. His fingers flex on my hips, and I focus on making the stitches as neat as possible. Just because we live in a world where there aren’t any fucking rules doesn’t mean I have to be sloppy about patching him up.

“I think I like this better when the roles are reversed,” he says, studying my face as I work.

That makes me pause, meeting his gaze. “I don’t.”

Surprise flickers in his eyes. “No?”

“Fuck no.” I tie off another stitch, my throat tight. “I’d prefer if none of us needed stitching up. I hate that you got hurt at all. Don’t ever fucking die on me, okay?”

The words come out rougher than I mean them to, raw with everything I’m feeling. His eyes darken, and suddenly his hand is in my hair, pulling me down until our foreheads touch.

“Why would I?” he murmurs against my lips. “When you’ve given me something to live for?”

Something breaks open in my chest, and I kiss him hard. His hands slide up my back, pulling me closer, and for a moment Ilose myself in him. In the solid proof that he’s alive and that we all made it.

When I pull back, his eyes are heavy-lidded and hungry, but that gash still needs closing.

“Let me finish,” I tell him. “Then we can celebrate being alive properly.”

His answering smile is pure sin. “Whatever you say, siren.”

We join Nico and Atlas in the living room once I’ve finished cleaning and stitching Killian’s wounds. Atlas is stretched out on the couch, looking beat to hell but alive. Nico is standing by the window, watchful as always. The sight of all three of them here, safe with me, makes my chest tight.

“So what now?” Atlas asks, his voice rough with exhaustion. “Ambrose is dead. That nightmare is over.”

I sink into an armchair, suddenly aware of every aching muscle in my body. “We rebuild. I’ll probably start with getting Enigma back together, if any of them still want me as their leader.”

“Your people will come back,” Nico says, turning from the window. “They’re loyal to you. They just needed time to get clear of the crossfire. You gave them that time.”

He’s right. I disbanded Enigma to protect my members, but now that Ambrose is gone… “We’ll need to be stronger this time. And more unified.”

“Speaking of unified,” Killian growls from where he’s leaning against the wall. “Maybe it’s time we dealt with Zoey and her Twisted Tyrant fuckers.”

The energy in the room shifts. I can see the hunger in their eyes at the thought of taking back what’s theirs. The club they built, that Zoey and Stefan stole out from under them.

“I think we should definitely make time for that,” I say, already thinking about combining our forces and makingsomething new. Something stronger than Enigma or the Princes of Carnage ever were alone.

“We could do it,” Atlas says, sitting up despite his injuries. “Between your people and the ones who stayed loyal to us?—”

My burner phone rings, cutting him off. My stomach drops as I recognize the number.

Of course it’s Malcolm.

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