Page 95 of Wicked Savage

“Sonya, really, I’m fine with the salad,” I insist.

Her laugh is quick and hollow, as if she’s trying to fill the awkward space between us. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

She starts toward me again, but just as she lowers the bowl back down, it slips from her hands. The ceramic shatters against the counter, pieces flying everywhere.

“Oh God!” I jump back as shards scatter across the kitchen.

“I’m so sorry! I’m an idiot,” Sonya exclaims. “Let me clean this up quickly, and I’ll make you another bowl, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” I mutter, still shaken.

She calls in help, and within ten minutes, the mess is cleaned up and a fresh bowl is placed in front of me. But even as I begin to eat, I can’t shake the strange feeling gnawing at me.

Something feels off, and I have no idea what to do with that.

* * *

CILLIAN

I didn’t expect her to install a camera in her room, but it doesn’t change my plans. I don’t need to go into her bedroom. I’ve already got what I came for: the perfume bottle that’s always beside my bed, her panties right next to it.

I take a drag of the cranberry vodka, letting the cool liquid burn its way down my throat, then close my eyes. My mind drifts back to the night we met, when she drank the same drink. The way she lit up the room. How perfect she was.

How perfect she still is.

Leaning back into the sofa in the sitting room at Tynan’s, I register the sound of the door opening in the distance.

My family’s starting to trickle in for dinner, and if I didn’t have to be here, I wouldn’t be. But we all show up for these dinners, no matter what. No escaping it.

I take my time finishing my drink, not in the mood for the small talk that’s inevitably coming. They’re going to start asking about Dinara, and I can’t deal with that right now.

Then I hear the familiar click of high heels and look up to find Iseult striding in.

“What are you doing here all alone?” she asks, dropping onto the love seat across from me and crossing one leg over the other.

“Hiding,” I mutter, the bitterness in my laugh matching the tightness in my chest.

“I get it. Our family can be a lot sometimes.” She watches me for a few long seconds. “Are you okay? Fionn told me.”

I just shrug.

She exhales, dragging out the breath like she’s measuring her words. “I’m not great with advice, and I know Mom’s death messed us all up in different ways, but I don’t want to see you sabotage your happiness.”

I rub my face, the feeling of disgust creeping in. Disgust at myself for letting it get this far, for letting Dinara get under my skin this much.

“I can’t be with her, but I can’t be without her either.”

“I can see where you have a problem,” she says with a light chuckle.

“What the hell am I supposed to do, Iseult?” My voice cracks, the frustration thick in my chest.

She leans back, studying me like I’m some puzzle she’s trying to figure out. “I don’t know. But you’ll have to decide, because this whole mopey, brooding thing?” She gestures at me with a flick of her hand. “Not working for you.”

“Yeah, thanks for the insight,” I grumble dryly.

“I’m only half kidding,” she says, letting out a short laugh.

I exhale sharply. “What would you do? Could you just get over it if Gio’s father or uncle killed our mother?”

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