Page 12 of Unholy Obsession

I feel my eyes go wide. Shit. This night is just full of surprises. “When did you guys get married?”

“We haven’t,” Mads pipes up.

Domhn yanks on the lapels of his jacket as he turns back to her. “You know we already may as well have. You’re my wife in all but paperwork. Why won’t you just tell me when you switch, Mads? How many times have I told you it’s fine with me. Now, let’s get back home. I think it’s been enough adventure for one night.”

Mads pouts, and even I can tell it’s a barely skin-deep manipulation tactic. She’s playing with him and wants him to know it. It’s fascinating to watch the two of them together. She’s so much more confrontational than Anna. “But I want to stay and play.” She arches an eyebrow and leans into his body. “Don’t you want to play with me, Donny?”

“Not with her here,” Domhnall growls, obviously softening to her wiles, gesturing toward me with the barest tilt of his head.

“I’ll leave,” I pipe up.

“No one was talking to you,” Domhnall bites. “Because you’re already gone. My sister is dead to me.”

I back away from the pair of them and do my best to pretend he didn’t just bludgeon me in the chest with his words.

“Domhn,” Mads says sharply, but I shake my head at her and give a lame wave before turning and trying to walk away without looking like I’m running.

FIVE

BANE

The club is alive tonight,and I’m pulled here again like a sailor to a siren’s call. From my perch in the shadows across the street, I have an unobstructed view of its entrance. A string of well-dressed patrons pass through the darkened doorway. Their laughter and the click of heels reverberate faintly down the street.

But Moira is the only one who matters.

I don’t interfere. I only watch.

Just like I have for too many nights in a row now. I stand here, watching and fighting the ache in my chest that’s always my unwelcome companion.It’s not stalking, I tell myself. I never follow her home. I still don’t know where she lives. I just come here to catch a glimpse of her and reassure myself she’s still safe.

My eyes scan the entrance, muscles tense with expectation. The door swings open and shut, and strangers spill out into the night. They’re irrelevant. She’s the only one I’m waiting for.

She always comes.

And now here I stand, night after night. Watching her step through the club door, the barest thump of the club’s base beat spilling out, throbbing with temptation.

As much as I might want to cross the street and follow her inside so I can reassure myself up close that she’s okay… the simple truth is, I don’t trust myself.

I want her to be all right. Ineedher to be alright.

But thinkingI’mthe one to step in and fix her is the height of ego. I might be an arrogant monster, but that’s even more reason to stay away. Whatever brought her to the church’s doorstep, eyes so full of shame and self-recrimination. . . I shake my head. My interference in her life could only make things worse.

The thought bites deep, but I force myself to swallow it. Shame is an old acquaintance of mine. One I thought I’d made peace with long ago. Yet here it is again, festering under my skin like a wound that never healed.

When Moira ran from the church, it felt like the final echo of a life I’d tried to bury. That life was one of excess, indulgence, and all the other sins I inherited from my father.

I’ve tried to distract myself. Believe me.

I told myself I’d never come back here.

Earlier tonight, I tried to practice discipline. Lining up dominos in my living room—a child’s game, I know, but one I’ve taken back up again in recent years to practice exactitude, a quiet mind, and discipline.

My hands moved with practiced precision, setting the final piece in place. A perfect chain of black-and-white dominos stretched across the polished surface of my coffee table and floor, each one standing tall and precisely spaced. Order. Control. The simple, immutable laws of physics dictated that every piece had its place. That nothing could fall unless it was set into motion.

It was what I used to do as a child, back when I still lived under my father’s roof. Before I learned that control was only an illusion. I would spend hours setting up elaborate patterns, only to swipe them down in a single movement. The fall was inevitable. I thought I had grown past the need for this kind of ritual, but tonight, I desperately needed something to still my thoughts.

Something to wipeherfrom my mind.

Moira.

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