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I resume my workout, moving to pull-ups on the makeshift bar hanging in my bedroom doorway. No mention of Lucy. No mention of me. The alley was dark and the cameras wouldn't have caught anything useful. Still, they could have caught us in the bar. She and I came in together, but she left with Marshall, with me following after. That would be suspicious.

The light in O’Malley’s is dim. Can they even make out who we are? I imagine they reuse tapes over and over, which would degrade the quality of the recordings over time. My mind is going a mile a minute trying to figure out what’s going to happen.

The news moves on to the weather, and I drop from the pull-up bar, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from my face. My knuckles are still bruised from beating the life out of Marshall. How did things spiral so out of control? One minute, I was working my way into the Keans’ circle and the next, I'm killing cops in alleys and holding Lucy prisoner.

Of course, Lucy is the answer. The minute she followed O’Brian out into the alley, our course was set. The good, the bad, the ugly of it all started there.

I catch my reflection in the window. I look as wild as I feel, covered in tattoos and scars. No wonder Lucy looked at me with such fear when she learned who I really am. The memory of her expression twists in my gut worse than any punch I've taken in the ring.

At least Lucy's safe. That's what matters. Even if she hates me for it.

A knock on my door draws me from my self-recrimination. I check the peephole and see Ash, opening the door eager to hear whether he saw Lucy. It would be just like her to leave. God, the idea of that nearly brings me to my knees.

"She's safe,” he says as he strides in.

"Did she eat? Sleep?"

He makes a face. “How the fuck do I know?”

I stare at him, wanting a little sympathy for once.

He runs a hand through his hair. "I think she slept. I brought her food and her work, although I don’t know why. It’s the reason we’re in this mess.”

“It will give her something to do so she won’t leave.”

“Yeah, well, that's not our biggest problem. She's acting like this is all some temporary inconvenience. She asked me how long she needs to stay there, like we're running some kind of witness protection program." Ash's eyes narrow. "You need to face facts, Brother. She's a liability. Not just to you, but to everything we've worked for."

"I know." The words taste bitter.

"Do you? Because from where I'm standing, you've compromised our entire operation to protect a woman who is in a position to bring us all down.”

I turn away, unable to argue. Lucy's determination to see this as just another news story will get her killed. The Keans don't leave loose ends. And… normally, we don’t either. Didn’t I kill Marshall to prevent our exposure?

"She thinks we're the bad guys," Ash continues. "Just like the Keans. You should have heard her today, acting like we forced her into this mess."

“I did kill Marshall and force her into the safehouse?—”

"No." Ash grabs my shoulder, turning me to face him. "She walked into that alley. She kept digging despite your warnings. She made her choices. Now she has to live with them."

I know he’s right. It’s the same argument I made to her. So why am I trying to defend her? Probably because I don’t want him and my other brothers to decide she’s not worth the risk.

“You need to let her go. She clearly doesn't want our protection."

"And watch the Keans kill her?" My voice comes out as a growl. "Not happening."

"Love's made you weak. We can't afford distractions. Not when we're this close."

“You, of all people, should understand?—”

“I do understand.” His eyes flash with rage, but as usual, he contains it, just like he contains all emotions. “I warned you that falling for her would only lead to heartache. There’s no place in our world for it. Trust me, Flint. I know exactly how love can break a man.”

"This isn't about love."

"Bullshit." Ash pushes off the wall, getting in my face. "I watched Megan die in that fire. I know what love looks like when it's burning you alive. You've got the same look I had."

I can’t stop the image of the house fire morphed with Lucy. She’s in the window, stuck, fire and smoke consuming her. I can’t bear it. "Don't you dare compare Lucy to Megan."

"Why not? Because yours is still breathing?" His words are cruel, deliberate. "For now. But if you keep putting her first, you'll end up watching her die too. Is that what you want?"