Page 40 of Velvet Chains (The Dark Prince of Boston #2)

Chapter Thirty-Two: Kieran

I watched the house from a half-block away, tucked into the shadows of an abandoned storefront with my collar turned up and my pulse so steady it scared me.

It was early—still dark enough that the streetlights hadn’t turned off, but not so early that it looked suspicious for a man to sit in a car with the engine running.

I didn’t touch the coffee in the cupholder. I wasn’t here to drink.

Ruby didn’t come to the door. I noticed that Julian punched in a code and I cursed myself for not being able to see what it was. It made sense that she had more security now. God, I hated his smug face, and how he looked like he had a spare cardigan in his car.

She was locking the door now. Checking it twice.

Good.

She was scared.

But she wasn’t scared enough.

At 7:07, a gray sedan slowed two houses down.

It didn’t stop…just idled past. I memorized the plate without blinking.

Out-of-state. Not one of ours. Not FBI either, unless they were deliberately sloppy.

Either way, Ruby was being watched. Again.

Maybe still. Something about that sent a chill down my spine.

Who else was trailing her? Why were they trailing her?

Whatever the reason, it couldn’t be fucking good.

I didn’t breathe until it turned the corner.

I stayed parked until the sun crested fully over the buildings, then drove off without turning on my headlights. I had work to do.

I followed the sedan until he parallel parked—a sloppy job, he wasn’t good at it—right in front of a big block of buildings. The moment he got out of the car, the more I realized I was right. He definitely wasn’t one of ours.

That much was abundantly clear the moment I saw him—tallish, nervous, hanging around the Shawmut bakery delivery alley like he was pretending to wait for someone who wasn’t coming.

Too clean for a local. Too soft for a soldier.

Maybe twenty-seven, baby face trying to grow stubble.

Hoodie zipped to the neck. Hands twitchy. Eyes wrong.

I didn’t move at first. Just watched him from across the street. Let him settle into his lie.

He tried leaning against the wall like he belonged there, then pulled out a phone and tapped aimlessly. Like a man with nowhere else to be.

That’s what gave him away. No one in Dorchester wastes a cigarette.

Eventually, he ducked behind the dumpster.

I followed.

He didn’t hear me until I was close.

When he turned, his hand jerked toward his waistband—quick, like maybe he had a weapon. Like maybe he didn’t. It didn’t matter. I already had him by the collar, slammed him against the wall hard enough to make the dumpster rattle.

“Who are you watching?”

He didn’t answer.

I pressed my forearm into his chest, searched his pockets one-handed. Found a burner. Nothing else.

No badge. No ID.

Sloppy.

“Fed?” I asked, voice low.

Still nothing.

“Tell me who you’re watching or I swear to God I will fucking kill you right here and now.”

“They just told me to keep an eye on the DA. I’m not here to hurt her. I’m just trying to do my job, man.”

“Callahan?” I added, quieter.

That made him flinch. Just a little. But it was enough.

“Tell Tristan--”

“Fuck, I hope it’s not the Callahans. I’m greedy, not suicidal,” he said.

I grabbed his chin hard, looking right into his eyes. “I will find out if you’re lying. And if you are, I will find you. And I will fucking kill you. Who are you working for?”

“Man, I don’t really know. I just get assigned jobs like this every day. Through, like, an app. I swear. I can show it to you if you want.”

I loosened my grip on his neck. A little.

“What’s the name?”

“The Crew. No one knows where it comes from. Jobs just pop up and someone’s always desperate enough to take ‘em. But it’s usually pretty safe, you know?”

A thread of pity wound its way through my fury. He looked so fucking hopeful about it.

“Safe?” I said. “Until you run into someone like me?”

He swallowed. “Are you gonna let me go?”

I drew back, let him slump down and catch himself. He didn’t look relieved. Only surprised.

“Listen real close,” I said, finger in his face. “Tell your bosses they’re blowing their money. We’re way ahead of them. If you or any of your Crew want to live, stay the fuck out of our way. Give me your fucking phone. Right now.”

He unlocked the phone with a quick thumb-swipe, hands trembling, and I yanked it from him before he could think of wiping it. The screen was already on the Crew app--a black background, a red devil’s mask icon, and a joblist that looked like a mercenary wet dream.

I scrolled down, scanning the flags and notifications.

Job locations sprawled the city, some with profile photos, some with “ACTIVE” blinking like a curse.

Another pop-up job came through as I watched: “Package pickup, South Station. Code phrase: Morning Glory.” The payout was more than I earned for a hit ten years ago.

“Who else is on your crew?” I asked without looking up.

His voice vibrated with fear, or maybe humiliation. “They don’t tell you. It’s, you know, decentralized or whatever. If you fuck up, you’re on your own.”

“And you thought you could tail a DA with this face?” I said, flicking his jaw with the phone as I snapped a picture of him, just in case I needed a memory trigger later. His eyes watered, but he didn’t flinch.

“I’m just supposed to keep track. That’s all. Sometimes we just watch, sometimes we’re muscle. Sometimes they tell us to, I dunno, leave a guy alone, or drop something off.”

He was a watcher, then, just a pawn—but it meant that somewhere, higher up, someone had eyes on the fucking DA. Someone had eyes on Ruby.

Someone I hadn’t even accounted for.

If I was afraid before…and I had been afraid…I was terrified then.

I pocketed his phone. “I’m keeping this. I highly recommend you get a real job. If I see you watching her again, I will kill you. What’s your code?”

“0001.”

“Fucking chump. Go on. Get out of here.”

I walked to my car as the man scrambled to his. I watched him drive away real fucking fast. I glanced at the screen one more time before I locked it. Another job pinged in. Something about a councilman’s daughter. I didn’t care. I had my own to worry about.

My own little girl with two crooked braids and a stuffed bunny named Carty.

At 2:31 p.m., Ruby parked outside the community center to pick up Rosie.

I was already there.

She didn’t notice me across the lot—why would she?

She was distracted, coat half-buttoned, purse slipping from her shoulder, keys clenched in one hand…

gorgeous as the day I’d first seen her, maybe even prettier.

She’d parked crooked. In a hurry. Rattled, probably, from the DOJ investigation, from her insufferable ex-husband, from her job…

From me.

She left the engine running as she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out.

I watched her from a few cars away, waiting as she walked through the automatic doors just like always.

A few minutes passed. Then she returned, Rosie skipping beside her in winter boots, clutching a drawing in one mittened hand.

Ruby opened the back door, helped her daughter into the booster, pulled the seatbelt snug. Rosie started talking immediately—something about a penguin book, a funny voice. Ruby murmured back, soothing and distracted.

Then she shut the back door.

And turned.

And saw me.

By the time she caught up—by the time her mouth opened in something that wasn’t quite a scream—I was already sliding into the driver’s seat, locking the doors. Rosie was secure in the back seat, humming to herself, and she looked up at the thud of the door.

My heart fucking melted when my daughter met my eyes in the rearview. “Key!” she said with a big, beautiful smile. “What are you doing here?”

Ruby was at the window, staring at me like she was watching a horror movie. I kept an affable smile on my face; this would be for the best, even if Ruby didn’t know it yet. I smiled back at Rosie.

“Thought we’d go for a drive,” I said. “Your mum invited me.”

Ruby’s hand was already on the door handle, yanking. She jiggled it once, twice, then slapped the window with her palm. I cracked it just enough to hear her hiss.

“Kieran, unlock the door .”

I leaned across the center console. “Me and Rosie are taking a drive,” I said. “You can come too. Or not.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “Kieran,” she said, low and sharp. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Language,” I said gently, glancing back at Rosie. “You want her first memory of this adventure to be her mom swearing?”

Her chest rose and fell like she’d just finished a sprint. Her hand hovered near the driver’s side handle.

I looked at Rosie in the rearview. “Would you mind putting your headphones on, love? I’m going to have a word with your mother. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

Rosie—bless her—did as I asked, happily kicking her feet as she looked down at her tablet. I would need to teach her some street smarts…but there would be plenty of time for that where we were going. With Rosie’s ears covered, I rolled the window down a little more, meeting Ruby’s eyes again.

“Let me make this clear. I’m going to drive this SUV away. You can get in,” I said. “And that would be my preference. Or you can stay here and Rosie and I will hang out somewhere I can keep her safe.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Kieran.”

I tutted, shaking my head. “Do you normally swear that much in front of our child?”

“Shut up,” Ruby snapped. “Jesus. Keep your voice down. Okay. Okay. I’ll get in. Just…don’t tell her. Please.”

I smiled, slow and soft, like I hadn’t been dreaming about this for years. “My lips are sealed.”

Her hand hovered at the door handle like she might bolt. Like she might scream. But she didn’t. Of course she didn’t. Because she knew. Somewhere in that frantic, furious head of hers, she knew this was always how it would end. With me. With us.

She opened the door and slid in beside me. Shut it. Clicked the seatbelt with a shaking hand. She didn’t look at me, but I could feel her body—tight, wired, burning—just inches away. She smelled like wind and vanilla and a little bit like panic.

She turned to pat Rosie on the shoulder, her voice remarkably steady. “Hey, peanut. You remember my friend Key?”

Rosie yanked her headphones down and beamed. “Yep! Hi, Mr. Key!”

“Hi, Ro,” I said, grinning at her in the mirror. “Did you like the book?”

“Yes! It’s funny!”

“We’re going on an adventure,” Ruby told her. “But we’ll be back soon, okay?”

Rosie shrugged. “Yeah. Okay. Can I keep playing my game?”

“Yes, mi amor.”

She slid the headphones back on, face soft with trust. Oblivious to the current vibrating between her mother and me.

Then Ruby turned back to me, voice low and lethal. “Kieran. If you get her hurt, I will fucking kill you.”

“I know,” I said. “But don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay.”

I reached for the gear shift. My hand brushed her thigh—barely a touch—and she jerked like it burned. Good. Let her feel it. Let her remember every time she’d wondered what it would be like if I just took her.

Because that’s what this was.

Not just taking my daughter.

Taking them both.

I said nothing else. I didn’t need to.

I started the engine.

And we drove away.

The sun was low, glinting off the windshield, painting everything gold.

Ruby sat rigid beside me, hands in her lap like she didn’t know what to do with them.

I glanced at her once, just to watch her profile—those lips, that jaw, the little twitch at the corner of her mouth when she was holding back from yelling.

God, I wanted her.

Not just in the filthy, desperate way I always did. But in the quiet way, too. The way I dreamed about when I couldn’t sleep. Mornings like this. Her in the passenger seat. Our daughter behind us, safe and soft and happy.

I’d played this fantasy in my head a hundred different ways.

And now?

Now it was real.

And I wasn’t letting go. Not ever again.

No matter what it fucking took.

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