Page 115 of Velvet Chains
When it was over, we lingered near the nativity scene in the front alcove. Rosie insisted on taking a picture next to the donkey. Natalia and Martin obliged, crouching beside her in front of theplastic hay. I held my phone like a shield, hoping this ordeal would result in nothing…knowing there was no chance of that.
And that’s when I saw Kieran. Standing near one of the side exits, hands in his coat pockets, his expression unreadable. He didn’t approach. He didn’t even look at me directly. But his gaze swept the group—lingering on Rosie, softening just a hair. And then it slid to Julian. To Valerie.
His jaw twitched.
I felt Alek move to my side like a shadow.
“He wouldn’t,” I said under my breath.
“He already has,” Alek said. “He’s watching the people who could take her. Let’s go.”
We filtered out of the church slowly, bundled in coats and scarves and holiday exhaustion. Rosie was still bouncing on adrenaline, gripping the edges of my coat while she chattered about the candles and the choir and the one very old lady who fell asleep mid-Hail Mary.
Outside, the air was bitingly cold, but the snow had stopped. A soft dusting coated the cars in the lot, and Rosie took the opportunity to draw a heart on Julian’s windshield while he unlocked the doors. Alek and Natalia were deep in conversation behind us, Valerie fiddling with her gloves. Martin offered to walk Rosie to the sidewalk to see the “big snow piles,” but as we both turned to look at her response, we realized she’d wandered a little head, already halfway to a snowbank.
My heart went ice cold.
She was standing in front of two children—the twins. Tristan Callahan’s twins. The girl had the same thick lashes and serious eyes as her father. The boy had dark hair and blue eyes. Almost exactly like Liam Callahan had when he was a kid…according to the single photo Kieran had hanging on the wall of his apartment when we first met.
“Rosie, come here,” I said, but she didn’t respond.
Rosie smiled, oblivious. “I saw you inside. I liked your sparkly shoes.”
The girl blinked, then smiled back. “Thanks. I liked your singing.”
“I was practicing,” Rosie said, completely sincere. “For baby Jesus.”
The boy snorted. “Did you say ‘police gotta stop me now’?”
“That’s how the song goes in our house,” she replied, like that was the most normal thing in the world.
Behind them, a voice called out. “Catherine! Mateo! Let’s go.”
Tristan. Still distant, but closer than I wanted him to be.
Catherine turned her head. “One second, Dad!”
Rosie tilted her head. “That’s your dad?”
“Yeah,” the girl said. “He’s bossy, but my mom really rules the house. What are your parents like?”
Rosie nodded. “I get it. My mom says grown-ups are bossy because their brains are tired.”
Mateo grinned. “Mine definitely is.”
The three of them stood there in a perfect, accidental triangle—cousins, and not one of them knew it. Julian hadn’t noticed yet. He was focused on brushing off the windshield, muttering something to Valerie.
But I noticed.
I noticed everything.
My daughter was so innocent, hands stretched out…a bridge between bloodlines she didn’t understand. She had no idea—no idea that the people she gravitated toward were built from the same brutal stock. That what lived in them lived in her, too.
I opened my mouth, ready to step forward, to gently steer Rosie away—but then Kieran appeared.
He stepped out from behind his brother’s SUV like the fucking ghost of Christmas past, hands shoved in his coat pockets, jaw clenched tight. Snow dusted his hair and shoulders, but he didn’t shake it off. He just…stood there.Watching.
Rosie’s face lit up. “Key!”
