Page 97 of Velvet Corruption

He stared at me like I’d just dared him to swing. Maybe I had.

“You wanted me on this,” I said. “You always want me on the ones you can’t touch. The ones that require getting your hands dirty.”

His lips curled, but he didn’t deny it. Didn’t have to. We both knew what I was to him.

His fingers flexed at my collar again, like he wasn’t sure if he was going to let go or snap it tight enough to choke me out.

“She’s too smart,” I said, my voice lower now. “I tried to tell you. She doesn’t fall for the usual shit.”

“Yeah, well…you usually don’t have a history with your marks, do you?” he asked. “You should have told me.”

Tristan’s grip didn’t loosen. His eyes were locked on mine, sharp enough to draw blood. “You gonna tell me how far this went?”

My jaw ticked. “You mean now or eight years ago?”

His nostrils flared, but he didn’t blink. “Now.”

I didn’t answer.

“Don’t lie to me, Kieran.”

I stared him down, and that was answer enough.

Tristan’s expression twisted—disgust, betrayal, something darker. “Jesus Christ. You actually fucked her?”

“It wasn’t like that,” I said, voice rough.

“Oh?” His voice sharpened. “What was it like then? Romantic? Sweet? Was it candlelight and closure? Or did you bend her over your kitchen counter and call that strategy?”

“Watch it,” I warned, my voice low.

“You can’t tell if you’re protecting her or getting off on it,” he snarled. “You always were the weakest one when it came to women. You get led around by your dick and call it loyalty.”

I saw red. But I didn’t swing. Not yet. I took a slow breath instead, jaw clenched tight enough to hurt.

Tristan pulled back half a step—not out of mercy, but to drive the knife in. “You think I can’t smell it on you? You’d let her ruin this family just to get a taste again. You’d whore yourself out for the Callahans, wouldn’t you?”

I flinched like it was a hit. He saw it. He knew it landed.

But then I saw something shift behind his eyes. Not regret—Tristan didn’t do regret. But fear.

Not of me.

Of himself.

I saw it on his face, the uncertainty. The fear that he was more like Malachy than he wanted to admit. That he couldn’t control me, couldn’t control this.

Not the way the old man could.

"You knew she wouldn’t back down,” I said.

His nostrils flared. "Yes. I fucking—I told you what you were getting into."

“I can still do this,” I said, his hands still fisted around the fabric of my shirt.

Tristan exhaled sharply through his nose. “That’s not what this is about. She's a problem. You had a chance to prove yourself. You've done no such thing. You've only made things more difficult for me. For all of us. Kieran, if she comes after us, we could lose everything. You could lose everything. Is she really worth this much?"

"No," I said, even though it felt like a lie. "I still have a plan. Even if she does get elected."