Page 93 of Ricochet
How in the ever-loving fuck was it possible that he managed to calm her down? What did he say to her?
“That’s a long story,” she mumbled as Storm stepped aside.
"Well, princess, you gotta tell me. We have the whole night, and I'm sure Storm wouldn't mind."
"Do you ever stop with the ridiculous pet names, Kieran?" the man in question asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "I am sure she has a real name, so why don't you use it?"
“Because if he used my name, he would betray himself.” That little bitch. “Wouldn’t you, Kieran?”
Boiling.
That was how I felt.
Fucking boiling.
"I swear to God, Ophelia.” Storm seemed to freeze momentarily, looking at her and then at me. The confusion swirling in his eyes, and something close to realization visible there, but I didn’t have time to ponder over it. Ophelia was the focus now. “If you had anything to do with this, I will—”
"You will what?" She came closer, leaving Storm behind. "Torture me, humiliate me, kill me?"
Her blue eyes were sparkling with something new. Something I hadn’t seen before, and it wasn't anger anymore. It was excitement.
Like a newfound energy, she was glowing, and it wasn’t thanks to me. Who was he to her?
“Do you see this?” She lifted her hand bandaged in the worst way possible. “This is the worst thing you can do to me. You couldn’t even torture me properly. Poor little, Kieran.”
“You little—”
“That’s enough!” Storm roared. “We aren’t here so that two of you can discuss all the ways in which you would like to torture each other. Not that I wouldn’t like to see it. We are here to discuss serious things, and if you’d be so kind as to stop behaving like children, I will get to it.”
Ophelia retreated back, and I hated the distance she was putting between the two of us. She seemed to trust standing closer to the Devil himself than me.
Why was that bothering me so much?
I already made peace with the fact that she had to die. We just weren’t finished with her, but sooner or later, she would be gone. What I wanted didn’t matter, because I couldn’t betray my brothers like that.
They wanted to get their revenge. I wanted the same.
Then why was my heart constricting at the mere thought of her choosing somebody else over me? Seeing her with Cillian almost sent me into another fit of rage, but I knew why they both did it.
There were no feelings, no promises, and no calmness. This, right here, this was making me uncomfortable.
The familiarity with which these two behaved, her calm demeanor with Storm, it was eating me from the inside. What happened between them, and when?
“Are you calm enough to talk now, Kieran? Or do you need some milk with cookies?”
“Oooo, cookies,” Ophelia squealed. “I love cookies.”
The idiot smiled. This fucking shithead smiled at her.
“No need for cookies,” I grunted. “We can talk now.”
“Good.” His gaze stayed trained on her, and she did the same. Look at me goddammit. Not at him, me.
“As you know, we have your mother—”
“Yes, we fucking know,” Cillian started, finally showing some of those balls he always said he had. Fucking finally, brother. Thank you for all your support a couple of minutes ago.
“I didn’t ask you, Cillian,” Storm sneered. “I was stating a fact. When I ask you a question, or when I allow you to speak, you will know. Until that time, I am talking to your brother, not you, not your youngest, but Kieran. Understood?”
