Page 86 of Dublin Beast

It would be claustrophobic if I didn’t spend a huge percentage of my time in rooms exactly like this.

If Eddie Mason thinks this will unnerve me, he’s sadly mistaken.

I’m in my zone here.

It reminds me of the time Brenny and I got locked in a shipping container down at the docks. Only difference is, back then I knew Da would come looking for us. Now? I’m not so sure anyone knows where we are.

Did Kieran see what happened? Did he get away?

If he did, Liverpool is about to be invaded by an army of Irish made men. In that case, it could just be a matter of time. I’m not willing to wait around and take that chance.

If Eddie Mason knows what Harper has been up to, he’ll kill her. He’ll violate her. He’ll degrade her. And then he’ll kill her.

That knowledge fills me with such a primal rage that it burns me from the inside out.

He’s a deranged, slimy fucker—I won’t let him come anywhere near her.

My blood is hot. My fists are clenched. And the silence between us?

It’s screaming like a banshee in my ears.

Even though I freed her from her bindings, Harper is still sitting in her chair, arms crossed, chin tipped up in that way she does when she’s pissed… or disappointed.

Or both.

The shitty lighting catches on her profile, highlighting the stubborn set of her jaw. I shouldn’t care.

Idon’towe her anything. She knew who I was when she suggested us teaming up. She knew who I was when she suggested we color outside the lines.Shewanted this arrangement—no questions, no strings.

That was our deal from the start, clear as Dublin rain.

But her silence cuts deeper than any knife that’s been plunged into my chest, and fuck if I know why I want her tounderstand. It’s like an itch under my skin I can’t scratch, a weight in my chest I can’t lift.

Her tongue darts out to run over her full lips, and I stifle a groan at the base of my throat. I can practically feel it swirling around the tip of my cock, sliding into the slit to catch the precum she’s called from me.

I fight not to curse. All the blood is rushing to my cock but now is definitely not the time.

She hates me.

And fuck me, I hate that she hates me.

I turn away from her before I say something I’ll regret—something soft, or worse…honest. My jaw aches from how hard I’m clenching it, biting down on every word I want to say but shouldn’t.

Let her be angry. Let her build her walls back up so I can rebuild mine. I hate that I betrayed Yasmine and let someone else into my heart.

It never should have happened.

But once we get out of here, I can go home and forget Harper and how she inserted herself into my life from the moment I rescued her on the street.

She led me to believe there could be something beyond the dark loneliness left in me since Yas died. It was misguided at best, lust mistaken as loyalty.

More like a betrayal of our love.

A wave of bone crushing sadness squeezes my heart in my chest, followed by self-loathing and shame.

I rub my palm against the back of my neck and drag in a breath that tastes like mold, rust, and decades of rot. The air in this place is thick and still—like it hasn’t moved in years.

The echo of our breath bounces back at me off the curved walls, the acoustics all wrong, like we’re speaking inside the belly of a cathedral built for the dead.

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