Chapter 32
“You have two choices–an easy death, or you beg for it.”
I stood transfixed, watching the scene unfold. In that moment, Killian’s expression was so inhuman it sent a chill down my spine.
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The man before him finally seemed to find his courage and scrambled to his feet. The blood had drained from his face, leaving him pale and drenched in sweat. He looked at Killian like he was staring at the Grim Reaper. Or perhaps, if Killian was the Grim Reaper, it would have been a mercy.
“Go sit over there,” Killian ordered.
The man obeyed as quickly as if he had been struck, his movements sluggish, as though his feet were made of lead. He sat on one of the wooden chairs, the ropes still dangling from its arms. Killian followed, and the moment the man sat down, he struck him with the back of his gun. One single, brutal blow to the head knocked him out cold.
Though the man was stockier than Killian, with more muscle, his unconscious form looked lifeless–his pale face ghostly under the dim lighting. Killian worked quickly, tying him to the chair before finally looking at me.
“You’re getting late. Let me escort you,” he said, his voice suddenly casual as he moved to a set of drawers. He pulled out a gun holster, securing it to his waist before placing his gun inside.
“But-”
“Shh.”
He pressed a finger to his lips and moved toward me, picking up the hoodie from the sofa.
“You won’t like what I’ll do to him. If you want to know when he talks, I’ll record it for you,” he said, dusting off the hoodie before holding it open.
“Is that an order?” I asked.
“It’s a suggestion, love. It’s 3:30 AM, and I doubt your first stop is the Anderson Mansion.”
Fuck, when am I supposed to sleep today? The thought alone made me yawn loudly, and I quickly covered my mouth. Good lord, I have no respect for
the dead.
Killian chuckled.
I gave in, allowing him to help me into the hoodie, zipping it up himself. It unsettled me–the contrast between the man who had just held a gun to someone’s head and the one now tenderly dressing me.
How was I supposed to keep up with his many faces?
Would one day, one of them turn on me?
When he finished, I reached for my phone and checked for my bike keys. Everything was there. My phone was cracked, but thankfully, there was no blood
on it.
Before I could react, his arm wrapped around my shoulders, his other hand slipping beneath my knees.
Once again, he lifted me off the ground.
“I can walk,” I protested.
“This is better. Trust me.”
His grip tightened, and instinctively, I wrapped my arms around him. A ghost of a smile played on his lips.
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20:32 Mon, Jul
Chapter 32
Finally, I thought. He looks like himself again–before the ambush.
When we stepped out of the basement, there was no sign of what had happened here. The silence was unsettling. Not even a body on the floor. A guard appeared from around the corner, stopping abruptly at the sight of us.
“Clean up. And keep the one on the chair like that until I’m back,” Killian ordered.
“Yes, sir.”
As we walked through the building, it was as if the fight had never happened. No shattered glass from the bar, no blood, no bodies. Everything was pristine. They had already evacuated the civilians when the attack started, but now, the place looked as though there had never been a party, never been a battle. The untouched shelves, the silent air–it was unreal.
At the entrance, Killian set me down and murmured something into his earpiece before looking me over.
“What? What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing. Wait a sec.”
His fingers brushed my hair, which had come loose during the struggle. He freed the rest of it completely.
“It’ll be troublesome to ride like that,” I said, gathering my hair and tying it back properly.
“You came on a bike?”
He turned away, pressing his earpiece again, speaking in a low voice before facing me once more.
“Yes. Why do you sound so surprised?”
“There are so many things I still don’t know about you,” he said, almost wistfully.
“There are plenty of things I don’t know about you, too,” I replied, my hands falling to my sides.
“You don’t?” He tilted his head, amusement glinting in his eyes.
“Of course.”
My gaze involuntarily flickered to his torso, where his scars–once visible–were now hidden beneath his shirt. I looked away quickly.
“I want to tell you everything,” he murmured. “But we always have to cut our time short.”
His hand reached out again, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. His expression was so tender it made my breath hitch.
What does he see when he looks at me like that?
Heat crept up my cheeks.
Footsteps interrupted the moment. Killian’s hand dropped to his side as a woman in a staff uniform approached.
“Like you said, sir.”
She handed him a leather jacket.
“Thanks, Bess,” he said, taking it before she disappeared as gracefully as she had arrived.
“You should wear this–it’s cold,” he told me.
I glanced down at the jacket, a protest forming on my lips, but he was already unzipping my hoodie.
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Chapter 32
“It’s October in New York, Mila, and you’re riding a bike,” he said.
Why does he say things like that?
My heart softened.
In the span of hours, he had taken me from doubt to trust, from passion to bloodshed, and now–this.
Concerned that I’d catch a cold.
He set my hoodie on a nearby stool and held the jacket open. I quickly slipped my arms into it.
When I turned, he zipped it up for me.
I watched his face, an inexplicable urge rising in me.
I reached out, grasping his chin, tilting his face so he had no choice but to meet my gaze. A flicker of surprise passed through his eyes before they softened, a slow smile forming.
“Did you find it?” he asked.
“Find what?”
“The lie. You’re searching for a lie. And here I thought you trusted me by now.”
“It’s not about trust,” I murmured, sighing as I let go of his chin, my fingers trailing down to his cheek.
He leaned into my touch. The sight was endearing.
“Then what is it about?” he asked.
“You baffle me, Killian Knight.”
“And you surprise me, Mila Anderson,” he replied, his fingers caressing my cheek, beckoning me closer.
I rose to my toes, our lips inches apart-
“Mila, do you want to leave?” he murmured against my lips, his voice a warning.
Reality slammed back into me.
I quickly pulled away, shaking myself free from his hold.
“Fine. I’m leaving.”
I turned and walked away, practically running from the pull he had over me.
It was truly-
“Maddening,” I whispered into the cold air.
I was almost there, my bike in sight, when I heard footsteps behind me.
“I can walk to my bike, Killian, what have you-
I turned-
My breath caught.
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Chapter 32
A man.
A gun.
“Mila!”
Before I could react, my vision was blocked-
The cold night shattered by the deafening crack of a bullet.
And the searing warmth of blood staining my hands.
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