Page 108 of Ricochet
“Do not say my name.” He breathed harshly. “Don’t ever say my name, or any of our names. This time you sealed your fate, and this time I will be the executioner. Not you. And this time, your daddy dearest won’t be able to save you, because the moment you stabbed my sister and let her bleed to death was the moment you sealed your destiny.”
I wanted to argue, to shout, to tell him it wasn’t me. I always loved Kieran’s brothers, especially Cillian. I knew what it felt like when your mind played games you didn’t know how to play.
And he was always kind, always understanding.
But this Cillian standing in front of me... this Cillian had so much hatred in his eyes, and the target was me.
“Let me explain,” I screamed out. “It wasn’t—”
But I didn’t manage to say what I wanted to say because in the next moment something stabbed me in the neck, and the reality I was trying to hold on to started slipping away, sending me into the darkness.
Present
My mother usedto say that mornings are smarter than evenings, and to try and sleep it off before coming up with a decision. But what was I supposed to do if I couldn't sleep the whole night?
I kept talking myself from going to her room, knowing that whatever I had to say to her would end up in another screaming match. I couldn't bear her looking at me with so much hatred anymore. I was a fucking hypocrite, because I did the same.
Problem was, I didn't know anymore if I loved her or hated her. Did I want her dead or did I want her safe? Seeing her with Storm yesterday brought something out in me, and I couldn't shake this feeling that I had already lost her. But I wanted this, right? I wanted her to suffer for what she did to Ava.
She killed my sister, but something inside of me was screaming. There was a flicker of doubt playing in my mind, and it didn't matter how much I wanted to believe everything my brothers were telling me about that night.
Did she really kill my sister?
Now that I thought about it, it didn't make any sense.
Why would she kill her? Ophelia was deranged. The things she did to other people were insane, but she was always so protective of Ava. She didn't even want to tell her what our jobs were. Then why would she kill her?
"Are you ready to go?" Cillian sat across from me, stealing the croissant that remained untouched on my plate. In the moments like these, I allowed myself to remember us as brothers who loved each other, who protected each other, instead of this hatred that consumed our entire lives. He seemed calm, collected, but I knew that there was a thunderstorm brewing behind those dark eyes.
I snickered at myself.
Thunderstorm.
Storm.
That motherfucker.
I knew what both Cillian and Tristan wanted. They wanted to give Ophelia away, because they both knew it would be her eternal damnation. The way Sons of Hades behaved toward their females was deranged, vicious, primal, and I shuddered even thinking about it.
Or at least that’s what I’ve heard.
She would be broken, beaten up, utterly destroyed if not killed, but I couldn't bring myself to agree with that decision, even though I knew it was the best course of action we could take.
We would get our mother back, and Las Vegas could fuck itself if it meant not losing another member of this family. Father would be furious, but if he even attempted to lift his ass from that leather chair he was so comfortable in, he would've known our mother was missing. He would've tried to help us, instead of telling us to deal with it on our own.
"Kieran?" Cillian asked. "You seem lost in your thoughts. What's bugging you?"
Was I that obvious?
"Nothing." I shrugged. "Just thinking about all the things I wanna do to Storm once we get Mom back."
He seemed to contemplate it for a moment, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Are we giving him Ophelia?” he asked carefully, and I hated how well my brother knew me. It didn’t take a genius to realize how uncomfortable I was with the mere notion of giving her to that monster.
We were monsters, we were terrible, but we would’ve granted her death sooner or later. That fucker would keep her alive, keep her suffering.
“Kieran?”
