Page 24 of Iron Bride

I swallowed my drink and slammed the glass down, as the base shattered across the table.

“Cillian!” My mother chided, at the same time my father fumed.

“To a wife of honest virtue,” I whispered. “My love.”

I tucked a finger under her chin. The past few days creating a habit, my darling wife turned to me on instinct, without force.

I pointed a finger at Marco and demanded, “Tell me who this man is.”

Randa placed her large hand on his shoulder, pinning Marco Rossini to his seat.

“Where was he, whenyouwere stabbed?”

“He…” Gia’s eyes widened in fear.

“Who is he to you!” It was an exclamation, not a question. Because I knew. I knew that she called him. I knew that he’d rescued her. And worse, he had something to do with it.

But that wasn’t the point. The point was thatshe had to tell me.

Shehad to use her words andtell mewhat happened.

It’s not a great demand to beg a wife to confide in her husband.

But here I was, begging all the same.

“Tell me what happened, mylove.”I snarled the insipid words through my teeth. “Tell me now.Do not force my hand!”

Those arctic eyes stared at me, and I watched them freeze, cell by cell. I watched the water turn to frost, as she locked herself away in the prison of her mind.

“Please,” I begged, holding her chin, as I stared into those winter eyes. Quieter this time, I asked again, “Do not force my hand.”

Her smile was a slap to the face. Bland. Cold, and lifeless.

“But husband,” she said, her voice sweet and airy. “How could I force your hand?”

She took my hand and pulled it away from her face, before gently setting it on the table, cutting the contact between us.

“I’m just a helpless prisoner.” Somehow that was colder than any profanity that she could have slung in my face. “How could I possibly stand up to a Green?”

Oh, my sweet little snow angel.

“You forget,Wife—”I straightened away from her.“Youarea Green.”

My eyes went around the stunned table. To the curious and amused eyes of my sisters. The perplexed eyes of my brother. To my parents, who held hands, their faces the very picture of restraint—as the heir, they wanted me to take charge. And this was what that meant.

My mother-in-law’s eyes were as cold as her daughter’s. A genetic trait, I was sure. But it was Marco’s dark brown eyes that made me feral with rage. The wayhelooked atmywife with a plea in his eyes. A plea, and an irksome protectiveness that was not his place.

“Andno onelays a hand on a Green without consequences.”

With a snap of my finger, Randa had a gun to Marco’s head. My wife screamed. My sister Maeve clapped. Quinn smirked at the possibility of violence to be committed.

Riordan stared at my wife with eyes that were far too concerned, and too…interested.

I would deal with him later.

“Take him to the hole,” I commanded Randa, who smirked with sadistic glee. I took my wife by the hand and dragged her through the long corridor to the darkest corner of the Grand Kintyre. “Come, Wife, and see what family business you have married into.”

And may God forgive me for what I am about to do.

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