Page 33 of Velvet Chains (The Dark Prince of Boston #2)

I looked up. Tilted my head. “Did I?”

She met my eyes, and for just a breath, something unguarded flickered there. Not forgiveness, maybe, but nostalgia. A warmth I hadn’t seen in years. Then it was gone.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe.”

Her thumb dragged across the lip of the mug. Her shoulders tightened.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she added. “And you won’t like it.”

I set the coffee down. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Just watched her.

The illusion was over—but I wasn’t ready to let it go.

Her mouth pressed into a line. She looked down at the floor, then back up at me like she was gauging the safest way to throw herself into traffic.

“I’m going to divorce Julian.”

I raised my eyebrows, doing my best to hide the surge of satisfaction that raced through me. “Good. About fucking time.”

“Kieran, that’s not why I’m telling you this,” she said. “It’s not a good thing.”

“I mean, how can this be bad? This is good. This is great. I want to celebrate.”

“I’m not finished,” she said, voice steady. “I told Julian to adopt her.”

I blinked. “He hadn’t already adopted her?”

She shook her head. “He didn’t have majority custody, Kieran. Now he will.”

My gut went cold. “What? Why?”

“Because this is what I have to do.” Her hands were clenched around the mug now, knuckles white. “This is what needs to be done to protect her.”

The words hit like a bullet I should’ve seen coming. Not fatal—just deep enough to leave a scar. My vision went hot for a second. Not blurry. Sharp. Hyperclear. Like I could see the seams in the air, like everything around me had snapped into painful focus.

“So what does that mean?” I asked, even though I already knew.

She didn’t answer right away. Just tightened her jaw and stared into her coffee like it might give her courage. Then: “Julian. I asked him to adopt Rosie. Legally. We’re making it part of the divorce.”

My stomach dropped.

“You mean the divorce you haven’t even filed yet?” My voice wasn’t loud. It was something worse—controlled. Low. “The one you haven’t talked to me about, except in cryptic goddamn riddles?”

Ruby looked up at me now, finally, her eyes hard and tired. “We aren’t anything, Kieran. You made that happen. I don’t owe you details on my divorce.”

“I made a mistake!” The words tore out of me. I was on my feet before I knew I’d moved. “Years and years ago, I made a mistake! Why—are you going to keep punishing me about it forever?”

“I’m not punishing you,” she said, standing too, matching my volume now. “I’m protecting Rosie.”

“Yeah?” I shot back. “So giving Julian my daughter was your answer?”

“She’s my daughter,” Ruby snapped, pointing a finger at her own chest. Her voice cracked with heat. “She’s mine, and I’m the one who’s been raising her, and protecting her, and losing sleep wondering what happens if someone puts a bullet through my car window because I dared to do my goddamn job.”

Her chest heaved. Her eyes glistened—but she didn’t blink. Didn’t look away.

I stared at her, throat raw, fists curled at my sides. I wanted to yell again. I wanted to shatter something. But all I could do was look at her.

At the fire I used to worship.

At the woman I still loved, who was now willing to legally erase me if it meant keeping our daughter safe.

“You think I wouldn’t protect her?”

Ruby looked…annoyed, like I’d entirely missed the point. “I think you’re not the one the DOJ is circling. I think you’re the one who knows who to call to dismember a man. You might not be Malachy Callahan, but do you even know how many people you’ve hurt? How many people you’ve killed?”

I opened my mouth to say something. Snapped it shut when I looked at her.

“Don’t answer that. You don’t owe me answers either.”

That cracked something open.

I moved—too fast, maybe, too big—but not toward her. Just across the room. I needed distance. I needed to breathe.

“I love her,” I said, because it was the only truth I had left. “I love her, and I love you, and I’m doing everything I fucking can to make sure you both stay safe. And you—Jesus, Ruby. You go to him?”

She was quiet for a moment. Then she whispered, “Because he doesn’t make things worse.”

That gutted me.

She didn’t cry. Ruby never cried—unless there was a dead man on her stairs. She just stood there in her kitchen, wrapped in her shirt, looking at me like she wanted me to fight her and hold her at the same time.

I laughed, but it was dry. Hollow. “So that’s it. He gets her. He gets the paper, the rights, the fucking legacy. And I get what, Ruby? One last night?”

Her face tightened. “You got more than one night.”

“Don’t do that,” I said, my voice cracking. “Don’t pretend this was ever casual for either of us.”

“It’s not about us,” she said. “It’s about her.”

I ran a hand down my face, dragging my fingers along my jaw like it might steady me. “I know…I know that.”

Ruby stepped toward me. Cautious—like she could see the fire under my skin. “Then let me do this.”

I looked at her…stared at her. I was on the fucking brink—about to do something that would mean she never looked at me the same way again.

“I can’t stop you,” I said finally. “But if you think I’ll ever stop being her father, you’re wrong. You want to make this legal? Fine. Draw the line in ink. Frame it. Laminate the fucking thing. But I will still be there. Every birthday. Every scraped knee. Every fucking first day of school.”

“You don’t get contact with her,” she said, a tremor in her voice now. “Not if this goes through.”

I stared at her. “You don’t get to decide that.”

Her silence was the loudest thing in the room.

I shook my head, fury curling tight around my ribs. “You don’t get to soften this. You don’t get to make this feel fair. You picked the safe option. I get it. I just hope you can sleep with it.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t answer.

And for a second—just a second—I thought about ending it. About what it would take to make sure Julian never signed those papers. About what it would mean to walk into his house and walk out with blood on my hands. About the look on his face when he realized I’d beaten him after all.

I thought about throwing her over my shoulder and taking her out the back door. Locking the world out. Keeping her where I could see her. Keeping both of them where they belonged.

I wasn’t going to do it.

But I wanted to.

God, I wanted to.

And instead…I stepped back.

“I think it’s time I left,” I said. “Busy day.”

Ruby frowned, shaking her head, her mouth opening and closing. “That…that’s it?”

“What else is there to say?” I asked. “You’ve been quite clear—she’s your daughter, and you’re going to give her away to a man who isn’t even her father. But…that’s your call, isn’t it?”

Ruby flinched.

“He is her father,” she said, too quick, like she was talking herself into it. “He’s the one who’s there. The one who shows up.”

I nodded. “Sure. That’s what matters, right? Showing up. That’s all it takes.”

She crossed her arms like a shield. “Don’t twist my words.”

“I’m not twisting anything. I’m just learning the rules,” I said, voice going flatter by the second. “You always were a better liar than me. That’s why they believe you.”

Her breath caught, but she didn’t speak.

I got dressed in a hurry, snatching up the clothes I’d left on the floor in a trail to the bedroom.

When I grabbed the doorknob a few minutes later, my hand was steady, but inside, I was chaos—ripping at the seams, one thread at a time.

I glanced back, just once, and let myself look at her.

Not the version I kept in my head, not the woman I begged to trust me, but the one in front of me now.

Cold. Guarded. Fucking final.

“You know what the worst part is?” I asked, my hand still on the knob. “It’s not that you’re cutting me out. It’s that I still love you enough to let you do it.”

Her throat worked like she was trying to swallow something too big.

“Kieran—”

But I was already halfway out the door.

“And Ruby,” I added, turning back just enough to meet her eyes. “If you think Julian’s going to get to keep her forever…you don’t know me at all.”

Then I stepped into the cold, let the door shut behind me, and walked out into the snow.

It was quiet out there. Too quiet. Like the world had gone still just to hear what I’d do next.

And I didn’t know yet…but I was thinking about a lot of things.

About names on legal documents.

About men who stepped into roles they didn’t earn.

About how easy it would be to make someone disappear, if you stopped caring what it cost you.

I lit a cigarette with shaking hands and stared out into the white.

She thought this was over.

It wasn’t.

Not even close.