Page 61

SIXTY-ONE

MOIRA

The moment Bane takes my hand to take me upstairs, my heart cracks wide open.

Not from fear. Not from panic.

From him .

From the sheer overwhelming weight of what just happened downstairs. The absolute power he wielded in that room—like a king granting mercy to his enemies, deciding whether to devour or dismiss.

And I watched it all.

Watched him shut them down with a single look and make them break with nothing but his silence. I watched him let them destroy themselves while he sat back, untouchable, unbothered, and completely in control.

God, that was sexy.

And now the warmth of his fingers curls around mine, so steady and grounding, the total opposite of the chaos inside my head.

Upstairs, the halls stretch long and dim, shadows spilling from sconces mounted on the walls. The air smells like old books, stale air, but also him —whiskey and heat and danger. He makes colors start to seep back into the edges of my world, and I’m afraid, but not in a sad blue kind of way.

I’m afraid with excitement. With orange and yellows, fire flickering at the edge of my vision again. Which makes me even more afraid.

I should let go. I should say something sharp to break the spell and remind both of us that I don’t need him to take my hand.

But I can’t. I just… can’t .

Because this is it. This is the moment. I feel it.

My chest aches with the force of what I want to say. It presses against my ribs.

I stop walking.

Bane does, too, turning to face me in the luminous glow of the sconces.

His gaze rakes over me, dark and unreadable, but there’s something different in his expression now. Something softer. Something devastating .

Something like realization .

“I know my father did something to make you leave.”

The words slam into me. I jerk back slightly, my pulse roaring in my ears. “You… you do?”

He nods, gripping both of my hands now, his voice low and certain. “I always knew it wasn’t you.”

My throat closes. I can’t breathe.

I’ve spent weeks believing he hated me. That he thought I chose to leave him. That he looked at me and saw a woman who walked away without looking back.

My fingers tremble as they tighten against his. “I—I wanted to tell you. But he—he threatened my brother, Bane. He kidnapped me and Mads.”

Bane lets go of my hands and steps back, dragging his fingers through his hair. I just keep spewing excuses. “He said if I didn’t disappear, if I ever came near you again?—”

“Fuck. Now I wish I had murdered him. Just to see the light go out of that motherfucker’s eyes.”

“So you didn’t? It wasn’t you?” I ask because I can’t deny the thought had crossed my mind.

“No.” He shakes his head. “He really did have a disease. They said it was just a matter of months, but I guess it progressed even more quickly than any of us thought.”

Then he shakes himself and rushes back toward me, wrapping his arms around me. “Oh my god. You were kidnapped. I’m so fucking glad you’re okay.” His arms squeeze tighter. “Holy shit, that’s why you couldn’t pick up the phone that day.”

I bury my face in his chest, letting myself melt into his warmth for just a moment. Just one moment of weakness where I can pretend I’m still the old Moira—the one who would’ve launched herself at him, clawed her way up his body, and demanded he take her right here against the wall.

But I’m not her anymore. I don’t know if I can ever be her again.

“They drugged me,” I whisper, the words spilling out now that I’ve started. “I woke up in some warehouse by the river. Mads—she told me to run and leave her behind. She said they’d kill both of us and Domhn if I didn’t break it off with you.”

I pull back, meeting his eyes, needing him to understand. “I didn’t want to hurt you. But I had to make you believe it. I had to make it real. And I am so sorry. It felt like I was choosing my brother’s life over you.”

His jaw tightens. “You did the right thing. I know my father was ruthless enough to do it.” His hands come up to frame my face, thumbs brushing over my cheekbones with such tender reverence that my knees nearly buckle.

“And I knew it,” he says again, voice rough. “I fucking knew it. I could feel it in my bones that you were lying that day. Your eyes...” His thumb slides across my bottom lip. “You’ve never been able to lie to me without your eyes giving you away.”

I exhale sharply, my heart rabbiting against my ribs. “But you let me go.”

“I didn’t have a choice. You used the safe word. I had to respect that.”

My throat tightens. He’s right. I’d weaponized our trust against him. The one thing that had been sacred between us.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“No.” His fingers tighten, tilting my face up. “Don’t you dare apologize. Not for protecting the people you love. Not for sacrificing yourself. The dominos were always going to fall. But I’ll be damned if I don’t set them back up again. I love you, Moira.”

His words pierce through me.

“I missed you,” I confess, the admission torn from somewhere deep. “I missed you so much it nearly killed me.”

His expression breaks, something raw and vulnerable crossing his face before he pulls me tightly against him again. I feel the shudder that runs through him and how his heart hammers against mine.

“Moira.” My name feels like a prayer on his lips. “I thought I’d lost you.”

My arms slide around his waist, holding on like he’s the only solid thing in a world that’s been spinning out of control for too long. The meds made everything gray, but somehow, in his arms, color seeps back into the edges. Dangerous, beautiful color.

“I’m not...” I swallow hard, forcing myself to be honest. “I’m not the same.”

His hands stroke up my back, one tangling in my hair. “Neither am I.”

I lean back just enough to look into his eyes, searching for any sign that he’s lying—any sign that he’s disappointed in what I’ve become. But all I see is that same intensity, that same desperate hunger that’s always been there when he looks at me.

“I’m on meds now,” I say, the confession hard to push out. “They help. Sometimes. But they make everything... duller. Quieter.” I bite my lip. “I don’t know if I can be what you need anymore.”

His eyes darken, and for a moment, I think I’ve ruined it. I’ve shown him too much of the broken parts of me. But then he cups my face between his hands again, his gaze burning into mine.

“I don’t need you to be anything but mine .” His voice is a growl that sends shivers racing down my spine. “Just like I’m yours. We’ll figure out the rest.”

“I love you,” he says, the words simple and devastating. “I’ve always loved you. I will always love you.”

“I don’t know how to be steady,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “I don’t know who I am without the highs and lows.”

His thumbs brush over my cheekbones, catching my tears. “Then I’ll love you through all of it.”

I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut. “What if I’m not the same?”

Bane’s lips hover over mine, his breath mingling with mine, his fingers strong, sure . “Listen to me. Your brain makes you who you are. Who I love . You are Moira fucking Callaghan, the most unique, fascinating, infuriating woman I’ve ever known. And I will want you, need you, and worship you, no matter what. Medicated or not. High or low. In sickness and in health. That’s what those vows meant to me.”

Her eyes fill with tears. “You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” I brush away a tear with my thumb.”

Something in me collapses . “I love you too. I always have, and I always will.”

And then, finally?—

He kisses me.

Not a slow, careful thing. Not something delicate.

My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer, closer, until there’s no space left between us.

It’s brutal .

It’s wreckage .

A hunger, a devastation, a reclaiming.

And I let myself be taken .