Every muscle in my face tightens as sorrow overwhelms me. My feet find their way to his room, and when I push the door open, a soft sob floats over my lips. I step inside and shut the door behind me. Slowly, I glance over his trinkets, and his favorite coat draped over the back of a chair.
There’s only one framed photo on the bedside table. It’s one Mom took. Cillian and I are walking across the backyard at our property in Ireland.
Seeing him, so young, his posture straight and ready to protect me breaks the last of my willpower. A tear spirals over my cheek, and taking a quivering breath, I glance around his room. My eyes land on his stereo system, and moving closer, I check what CD he has in.
The Wailin’ Jennys.
I select The Parting Glass and press play.
As their harmonious voices fill the air, I close my eyes, and the tears start to fall.
Cillian.
You were supposed to be with me until the very end.
My protector.
My friend.
Since my first memory, you were there. Every day.
You loved me more than anyone.
How am I supposed to do this without you?
You didn’t teach me how to live without you.
My sorrow engulfs me as my shoulders begin to jerk, and I allow myself to mourn the loss of the person I loved above all else.
As the last chords of the song play, I whisper, “Goodnight, Cillian.”
The door slams open behind me, and I glance over my shoulder as Damien stalks inside Cillian’s sacred space.
“I told you to never leave my side,” he growls at me.
I turn to face him, but everything in me is too raw.
Damien’s eyes drift over my face, and then he closes the distance between us and yanks me to his body.
Everything in me wants to rest my head against his chest, but knowing I can’t, I push against him and glare up at him. “I don’t need your pity.”
His eyes lock with mine, and they don’t seem as cold. “You’ve suffered an unspeakable loss, Winter. This isn’t pity. This is me showing you, you’re not alone. You have my loyalty.”
“Your job description doesn’t include comforting me,” I murmur, still trying to regain control over the sorrow.
Damien just stares at me, and then he slightly tilts his head. “This isn’t just a job for me. I have a personal interest.”
I begin to nod, letting out a humorless burst of laughter. “Right. The debt I owe you.”
“Damien. Winter,” Demitri calls from the hallway.
“Here,” Damien answers as he steps away from me.
Not wanting them in Cillian’s room, I turn off the stereo and walk out into the hallway. As soon as Damien steps out of the room, I pull the door shut and lock it. I pocket the three keys, then turn to Demitri.
“Alexei wants to talk,” he mutters.
Damien waits for me to follow after his brother, and as we walk down the hallway, I begin to feel on edge.
Both the Vetrovs and a Koslov are in my home. Pins and needles slowly spread over my body when I realize my life depends on the most dangerous men in the world.
I have no one on my side. The void Cillian and my family have left has changed my entire world.
Demitri leads us to the dining room where Alexei’s taken my father’s place at the head of the table. His deadly eyes lock on me, and I stop on the other side of the long table.
“Sit.”
Demitri takes a seat on Alexei’s right. When I remain standing, Damien places his hand on my lower back, giving me a soft nudge.
I shake my head. “I’ll stand.”
This is it. This is where Alexei makes his demands, and there’s nothing I can do. He has all the power.
“I’ll help,” he begins.
“What’s your fee?” I ask, not knowing if I can even afford him. Maybe if I sell the island or the property in Ireland? But it can take months or even years to find a buyer and to free up the money.
Alexei’s eyes slowly drift between Damien and me, then he says, “A partnership.” A slight frown forms on my forehead, but before I can say anything, Alexei continues, “If I have an interest in your business, it will give me the incentive to protect it.”
My mind begins to race. I did not expect him to say that. “How much?” I manage to ask.
“Fifty percent.”
God.
Will I be selling my soul to the devil if I agree?
I need them more than they need me, though. I don’t have much of a choice. I know nothing about the business. I need their protection. I need someone to show me the smuggling routes. I can’t deal with the tribes on my own. They’ll probably kill me during the first meeting.
Alexei rises to his feet, and with his eyes burning on me, he says, “I want an alliance, and you’re in no position to decline.”