Page 83 of Where Broken Wings Fly

Killian shakes his head. “She left a long time ago. Poor woman had the crap beaten out of her when she first turned up, and this big fucking scar down her left cheek.”

My heart explodes out of control.

“Lola took her in,” he continues. “They’ve been friends since.”

Staring at the side of Killian’s head, his long hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of his neck, my nails dig deep into my palms. It has to be a coincidence.

“A scar? On her face?”

He looks at me strangely. “Uh, yeah. It was huge and fresh. Why does it matter?”

“Shit! Stop the car. I’m going to be sick.”

“Right now?” he bellows.

“Yes, now!”

He abruptly brakes, causing the tyres to spin. Once we’ve halted, I fall out of the truck, landing on my knees in the grass with a pained grunt. A hot burst of vomit surges up my throat and I violently retch.

The driver’s door slams shut and for the second time, Killian rubs my back as he holds my hair out of the way. This is officially exceeding the amount of times I wanted him to watch me throw my guts up.

“Willow? Talk to me, baby,” he pleads.

Exhausted, I lean into his solid weight at my side. He’s holding me close and refusing to let go, despite how gross this is. I take a moment to catch my breath, still feeling sick.

“The w-woman… Katie? You said Katie?”

“Yes. What’s going on?”

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I make myself meet his alarmed eyes. Fear stares back at me in shades of molten brown, breaking free from his cool control.

“Katie is my mother.”

CHAPTER 17

KILLIAN

WILDFIRE (ALTERNATE VERSION) - SYML

Cursing my absolute fucking stupidity, I raise my fist to knock on the bedroom door. Lola gave me a very strange look when I refused to disclose why I needed to speak to Willow, but she ordered me to find out what the hell is going on with her.

Sure.

Like it’s that easy.

Willow has locked herself away in the cabin over the weekend, pretending to be busy with party preparations for Arianna’s upcoming sixth birthday next week, and nursing a supposed migraine. It’s bullshit. Her lies aren’t even believable.

I wish I could break through her shields long enough to get her to trust me. We’ve been dancing around each other for weeks and fighting at every turn. All I want is to protect and cherish her, even if it terrifies me to admit it.

“Willow? You in there?”

Silence.

“It’s Killian. I just want to talk.”

There’s a thud of footsteps and the door handle rattles before it swings open, unveiling a very sleepy, bleary-eyed Arianna in polka dot pyjamas. She squints up at me, that stupid butterfly sculpture still pooled in her arms.

“Giant? What are you doing here?”

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