Page 445 of Rage

Adjusting my shirt under my bra, Killian begins to tightly wrap my ribs, keeping me stable with the other. I bite my bottom lip to keep from screaming. The pain is torture.

Killian works in silence, his eyes trained on my torso. Gone is the boy from his youth, emancipated and scrappy. Now, Kilian is nineteen, tall and strong. He reminds me of a sitting viper, with his raven-colored messy locks and almond black eyes. No light enters them; they’re as soulless as the night.

Right now, though, he looks downright murderous as he finishes my ribs.

“Going to tell me what happened?”

“No,” I snap, earning a harsh chuckle from the man in front of me.

“Of course not.” His smirk is hollow. I never tell him where the wounds come from, but he always asks.

It annoys him. Years of being in the same house as him and I know him better than I know myself.

Once he’s done, he clasps the ends, pulling my shirt down with a harder touch than necessary. My body jerks forward, and pain flares along my ribs.

Fucking prick.

“Simon will need to see these.”

Swallowing, I nod. The clan doctor won’t be able to do anything. Michael will just break me again and again. This is the decree I decided to take at thirteen.

I plan on getting out of this arrangement soon. Killian doesn’t need to know about it, though.

Standing, I feel his hand whip out, grabbing my wrist.

In that simple act, I know a few things for certain.

One, Killian is powerful. His touch is enough to keep me incapacitated. No matter that I am his equal, that I have a knife strapped to my thigh and can slice his throat, I know he could easily overpower me.

And two, the look in his eyes makes my stomach drop.

Fear, pain, and rage all simmer in those cold eyes turning them into burning coals.

“Tell me who did this, Maeve.”

Licking my lips, I shrug. “Why? It’s already done. Let it go, Killian.” I twist out of his hold, relief singing through me as I put distance between me and the reaper. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Princess.” Those emotions are gone from his face and all that stares back at me is the face of a killer.

And strangely, I feel comforted by it.

Chapter Four

Killian

1 year ago

She’s bleeding again.

She thinks I don’t see it, all of it, but I do.

Her lip is split, her eye bruised. I see the blood seeping through the thin white shirt. Her lacy black bra underneath catches my attention, but I focus on the red.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were in an underground fight club.”

My words startle her, but she tenses when we meet eyes in the mirror—big, swimming green eyes that could double as uncut emeralds. Breathtaking, haunted.

I smirk, leaning against the doorway. “Tell me you at least won.”

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