Page 15 of Beyond Enemy Vows

I sigh. "I don't know. My brain's still stuck on 'WTF is happening.' Both? Neither?" I shrug. "I should be furious. I should tell him to go to hell."

"But you're not going to, are you?"

I stare at her. Unable to answer.

She smiles. "Okay, if it were me, and you know it could be me, I'd at least get that drink with him. You don't have to sleep with him.But I mean, he flew across the damn world. That's some high-tier attention."

"I just. If my brothers found out?—"

"Calli," she cuts me off gently. "You've spent your whole life following rules. Being the perfect little sister. When's the last time you did something just because you wanted to? Not because it was safe or smart or would make your brothers happy?"

I stay silent.

"You're allowed to want something. Someone. Especially when they're not chosen for you," she continues.

"I don't know, Keira."

"I mean it," she says. "Live a little. Flirt. You're in Ireland, not Chicago. No one's watching. No one cares." She shrugs. "Just think about it. Sleep on it. If he gets weird, I'll come early and kill him. I got you, girl."

I laugh despite myself. "I know you do."

"That's better. Now, I've gotta finish getting ready and you should get some sleep. Call me tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Love you," I say.

"Love you more," she says.

We end the call, and I sit there for a moment, staring at the wall. Keira's voice in my thoughts, and Niko's eyes fighting for dominance in my mind.

I crawl into bed and lay there.

Sleep doesn't come easy.

And when it does, I dream of things I shouldn't.

When morning comes, I'm no closer to a decision than I was last night.

The next evening arrives slowly.

I've spent all day doing exactly what I shouldn't—thinking about him.

Why he came.

What he wants.

What I want.

Keira's words of encouragement are there the whole time.

I decide to turn to what I've been doing lately to clear my head. I need to move. To sweat. To exorcise him from my system. Time to hit something.

I walk to the bedroom and fumble through my suitcase. I grab my black sports bra and matching high-waisted leggings and change into them. I tie my hair in a high ponytail and wrap my hands tight with my wraps.

I grab my gloves and head to the back of the house, to the small gym that used to be a storage room. It's nothing fancy, just a heavy bag, some weights, and basic equipment, but it'll do.

I slip on my gloves and roll my neck, feeling the tension there. I then face the bag, feet planted, body centered, raise my fist, and begin.

Jab. Cross. Hook.