I’m not sure of the time, but I know it’s way past midnight when a guard walks up to my cell, putting me on high alert. At midnight, the guards do a walk through, shining lights through the bars to check on the inmates. I can time my clock by it. One approaching now, though, is not the norm. I approach the door casually, waiting to see what is happening. He doesn’t speak, instead he hands me a cellphone. I put it to my ear, never taking my eye off the guard.
“Yeah,” I respond, my throat a little hoarse. I need sleep but letting myself sleep in this place doesn’t come easily.
"Killian, it's me," Ryan's voice comes through the phone. I ignore the disappointment I feel because it’s not Belle. I didn’t think it could be her, but I did hope. I shake it off and concentrate on Ryan. Part of me hopes it's a late call because he has something to tell me.
"This mean you have good news?" I finally ask.
"I promise I'm still working on it."
I don't remember him ever making me promises when I was younger. Part of me wants to damn him for everything he did and didn't do as I grew up, but at this point, he's the only shot I have. His promise is something I'm going to have to take for now—and hope like hell he comes through.
"You need to put a rush on this shit," I growl out, "I'm done waiting." My cell feels smaller every day. I got a tiny taste of what freedom would be like. It tasted sweeter than I ever dreamed it would because Belle was there. I have a life to get back to. A life that I've never had before—and I crave it like my next breath.
"Believe it or not, I want you out too. Belle needs you," Ryan says softly. I'm not sure why he even cares.
"What's your angle, Ryan? Why are you warming up to Belle?"
"It’s not like that. She just accepted an old man and helped ease my loneliness.”
“Find someone else, old man. Belle belongs to me,” My voice comes out ice-cold, a bold threat. Even I’m surprised by my reaction.
“Damn it, Killian. It’s not like that. I’m an old man now. I have no one. There’s no family—except a son who doesn’t like me. My life is empty. It’s a damn bitter pill to swallow.”
“You made your choices.” There’s nothing false about my statement. It makes me a bastard, but I still remind him of the past.
“Do you think I don’t know that? What hurts the most is there’s no one to blame but myself. The God’s honest truth is that if I could go back, I still couldn’t have chosen differently. If I had claimed you and your mother as mine, said to hell with Orla’s powerful family, it would have signed everyone’s death warrant. You’re in this life. You know what happens when you piss off the wrong people. I did what I did only because it was the only way I could protect you both.”
“The Bratva,” I mutter.
“Yeah. You know how powerful they are. It would have been a disaster. I couldn’t risk your lives. It was too dangerous. I never meant to find your mother. Hell, I even tried to stay away, but I couldn’t. She slid inside of me, and I couldn’t let her go—either of you go. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I did what I had to do. You can hate me for it, but don’t doubt for one second that I don’t have regrets, Killian. I live with them daily.”
I take a moment as I try to process that. I guess I had so much anger because of the pain my mother endured that I never saw it through Ryan’s eyes. It changes things, but I don’t want to think about that right now. I push the thoughts away, choosing to deal with them later. For now, I say nothing and let the silence take over.
Ryan lets me have it for a minute and then he pushes me a different way.
“Belle came home crying, Killian. She told me that I need to hurry to get you out of there. She’s upset with how unfair all this is. It would seem your wife is coming to care for you, Killian.”
I squirm because his words make me uncomfortable. I’m not sure why I’m bothered.
“She does, but that’s her place now. She’s my wife.”
“How do you feel about your wife?” Ryan asks boldly. I can't figure out why he’s asking. Who’s he to even fucking wonder about it? His question completely shuts me down. He has no right to ask me that shit.
Especially not with our history.
“I will take care of her unlike how my mother was treated by the man she loved.” I hang up the phone, not needing a response.