Page 9

Aria

I storm out of Cillian’s home, the cool night air slapping me in the face as I walk down the long, lonely road. My heart feels like lead, weighing heavily on my emotions. I’m feeling a lot of things after that confrontation with Cillian, but mostly guilt…for the hurtful words I said to him.

I shouldn’t have compared him to that monster who killed his sister. It was not my place. What’s wrong with me?

A dark SUV with tinted windows glides past me. I frown slightly, wondering why it’s going so slowly when the road is obviously clear.

Something doesn’t feel right.

I quicken my pace, my skin prickling with unease, glancing over my shoulder every few steps. My heart starts to beat faster, my instincts screaming at me to get out of sight. I take the next corner, ready to bolt if the car follows me, but it doesn’t. I stop walking, letting out a breath of relief while mentally berating myself for being paranoid.

Someone clears their throat in front of me and I look up to see a tall, beady-eyed man with thinning brown hair and an unkept beard standing a few feet from me, lips stretched slightly in a humorless smirk.

“Hey, missy…lose your way?” he asks in a mocking tone.

My heartbeat picks up again, hard and fast against the walls of my chest. I glance back to see the SUV parked a close distance from us, waiting…

“E-excuse me,” I stutter, trying to sidestep. He moves with me, mirroring every step I take, his smirk growing wider, mocking me. I swerve in an attempt to run, but the man is faster. He grabs me by the collar of my shirt and pulls me against his sweaty, smelly body. I scream, struggling to get away, and suddenly I feel a sharp prick against my neck. My hand flies up to the spot as my vision blurs. I stumble, my legs giving way beneath me. The last thing I feel is the man lifting me into his arms.

When I open my eyes, I’m lying in an unfamiliar room, my wrists bound to a bed. Panic claws at me, every nerve screaming as I struggle against the restraints. My head is throbbing, and I blink away the fog, trying to take in my surroundings. The room is lavishly decorated, with polished wood and elegant drapes.

Then the door creaks open, and a man steps inside. He’s old, maybe mid to late sixties, tall and lean, agile-looking for his age, with sleek handsome features. He looks vaguely familiar, yet I can’t place where I’ve seen him before.

“Wh-who’re you?” I ask. My voice is hoarse, barely coming out above a whisper.

He chuckles like I’ve just said something hilarious. He walks further into the room, coming to sit beside me on the bed.

“Warren,” he says quietly. His voice is raspy and deep, the voice of a man used to getting his way. “Warren Osla. I’m sure you’ve heard about me.”

I stare at him in disbelief. I’ve glimpsed him quite a few times on the news, and of course at the party the other night. A wealthy businessman and philanthropist loved by all.

But that isn’t why he seemed familiar.

He was at the auction—I’d remember that voice anywhere. He bid against Cillian to try to buy me. What does he want with me?

“You poor little thing, you must be wondering why you’re here,” he says as if reading my mind. I nod and his lips tug up in a cynical smile.

“Y-yes, sir,” I squeak.

“I’m simply taking back what’s mine,” Warren says, his smile morphing into a twisted smirk. “I had my eyes set on you at the chapel. You were supposed to be mine, girl.” His gaze travels over me with a chilling gleam that makes my skin crawl. “Now, you’re sullied…but I’ll take what’s left of you.” He reaches out to skim his fingers over my face.

A shiver of terror courses through me. I throw my head to the side in a blatant show of defiance, and he lands a sharp smack on the side of my head. I let out a strangled cry, tears blurring my vision.

“You need to learn to be obedient, little lady,” Warren continues without missing a beat, trailing his fingers down my neck to my chest. His hand lingers above my breast. “You’re such an exquisite little thing. I can see why Wolfe wanted to have you to himself.”

My heart breaks at the mention of Cillian. He has no idea where I am, and he probably doesn’t care. I don’t blame him, though. Nobody in their right mind would want anything to do with me after everything I said. The reason for my anger now seems so intangible, so small…

God, I feel so stupid.

“Please don’t hurt me,” I whisper, tears spilling from my eyes. I wish I could go back in time and take back everything I said. I wish I’d stayed and apologized to Cillian instead of running away like a coward. “Please, please…”

Warren chuckles dryly. “I don’t intend to hurt you, my lady. If you are obedient, you might even like what I do to you.”

He tries to kiss me and I throw my head aside again, pressing my lips together so hard it hurts. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for the impact of another slap.

The door suddenly crashes open.

I open my eyes and there’s Cillian, standing by the door, the broken knob clenched tightly in his right hand, a pistol in his left. Every muscle in his body is taut, his gaze blazing. At that moment, Cillian Wolfe seems like a whole different person from the man I’ve known in the past few days. He seems like a beast, an angry vengeful beast that’s barely held back by a leash.

But then he glances my way and his gaze softens, that terrifying edge melting into something tender. “Are you hurt?” he asks, voice low, steady.

I shake my head, trying to breathe. “No.”

He nods once, then returns his attention to Warren, his expression going cold once again. He doesn’t speak for a while, his attention focused on something below Warren’s face. “That watch…” he murmurs, then slowly glances up at Warren. “You killed my sister, didn’t you?”

Warren smirks, a cruel glint in his eyes. “Who is your sister?” he asks in a mocking tone. “I’ve killed quite a number of people.”

Cillian’s fist tightens visibly around the gun he’s holding until his knuckles go white. “You bastard,” he says through gritted teeth. “Lily Wolfe. Did you kill her?”

Warren chuckles, unfazed. “Oh, Lily. She was a pretty little thing, just like this one.” He reaches down and starts loosening the ropes at my wrists with a deliberate slowness. “I found her amusing, and she was fun to be around. So I slipped a little something in her drink and took her home with me. Unfortunately, she woke up earlier than intended and even sneaked pictures.”

He scoffs, tugging the final knot on the rope with more force than necessary. “Maybe if she wasn’t so defiant, I’d have let her live.” I tense as he loosens the last knot, ready to run over to Cillian, but Warren is quick. He yanks me off the bed by my shoulder, shielding himself with my body.

I gasp when I feel a cold metal object pressed against my temple. Cillian’s jaw tightens, a single muscle flexing near his temple. But his expression remains disturbingly calm. He raises his gun, leveling it with a deadly precision I’ve only ever seen in movies. And then, without a moment’s hesitation, he fires.

I scream. Warren howls. But his grip on my arm loosens. He stumbles backward, his gun falling to the ground with a dull thud. In the blink of an eye, Cillian is on him, grabbing him by the collar. With a raw, unrestrained fury, he slams his fist into Warren’s face over and over, his eyes blazing with rage.

I stand there, heart racing, unable to look away as I watch him lose control. It dawns on me how much pain, anger, and guilt he had to bottle up in the years since he lost his sister. I thought I had an idea, but I couldn’t even have imagined.

I realize in that moment how hard I’ve fallen for him. I love him, his flaws, his demons, his darkness—everything.

“Cillian, stop!” I scream as sirens blare in the distance. I reach for him, wrapping my arms around him from behind. “Please, stop.”

He stops, breathing hard, his fists stained with Warren’s blood. Slowly, he turns to me, his beautiful blue eyes swirling with raw emotions. He pulls me into a hug, holding me so tightly I feel every beat of his heart against mine. I cling to him just as fiercely, feeling the weight of everything—his loss, his anger, his pain—pouring out in this single, crushing embrace.

The cops arrive, and I barely register the ruckus as they take Warren away, all my attention focused on the feeling of Cillian’s erratic heartbeat beneath my ear.

“Let’s get you home,” he murmurs, his voice thick with relief. Without waiting for an answer, he scoops me up, holding my body against his chest like I’m the last thing keeping him grounded. I wrap my legs around his waist, resting my head against his neck, letting his warmth seep into me as he strides out of the room, unbothered by the stares of the police officers. He takes me to his car and sets me gently in the passenger seat before buckling me in. His hands linger on the seat belt for a moment, as if reluctant to pull away, then he closes the door and circles around to the driver’s side.

The drive home is steeped in silence. I watch him from the corner of my eye, trying to read his expression, but his face is as inscrutable as it always is when he’s hiding from the world. Even when we step inside the house, an awkward silence hangs between us. I take a breath, determined to break it.

“I’m sorry,” I say timidly, keeping my eyes trained to the ground. “For earlier. I shouldn’t have said the things I did when you were only trying to protect me.”

“Look at me, Aria.” His voice is a soft command, gentle yet firm. I look up into his piercing blue eyes and my breath catches at the vulnerability in them. He reaches out, pulling me into his arms. “I’m just glad you aren’t hurt,” he says, his arms tightening around me. “If anything had happened to you…” He trails off, as if he’s unable to imagine the possibility. “You don’t have to apologize. You were right. I looked into Vivian—turns out the men she owed money to were threatening to sell her little sister at the auctions. She was scared, and that’s why she offered you to them instead. I still want to kill her for hurting you, but hurting her would make me as much of a bad person as her. I’ll pull some strings to find her, I promise.”

Gratitude washes over me. I pull back slightly to look at his face. “Thank you, Cillian.” After a pause, I ask, “How did you find me?”

“I went after you and saw your bag on the roadside,” he replies, and I can feel some of the tension returning to his body. “I knew something was wrong, so I tracked your phone and it led me to Osla’s house. I called the cops on the way.”

“You tracked my phone?” I ask, blinking at him in surprise. “How? When?”

“The night you arrived at my house,” he says with a sheepish shrug. “I installed a software on your phone…just in case you were ever in danger…like today.” He caresses my face, his expression firm. “I can’t say I’m sorry.”

I smile and shake my head. Why would I be angry at a man who’s done nothing but protect me from the very first time we met? “It’s fine. I’m glad you did. Thank you,” I say softly. “For rescuing me from the auction house, for coming for me today. Everything.”

I pause, slowly meeting his gaze, my heart pounding like crazy in my chest. “While Warren had me tied up, all I could think is that I wanted to belong to you again, be yours again. I love you, Cillian,” I whisper, my heart swelling with euphoria the moment the words slip out of my lips. I laugh, feeling silly. “I love you so much.”

Cillian doesn’t say anything for a while, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that makes butterflies flutter wildly in my stomach. Then he lowers his head to mine and captures my mouth in a long, passionate kiss. When he pulls back, he drops his forehead to mine, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“I love you too, my Aria. I have loved you from the very moment I laid eyes on you in that damned chapel.”