Page 45 of The Heir's Defiance

The cold hits me in the chest and keeps sinking into my flesh until I’m tight. I don’t feel it the way I should. My pulse is wrong. My breath’s too short. My coat’s unzipped. I feel hollow and numb. I've been pushing back against Ronan's orders thinking I was going to have something with her, and this whole time, her father has been pushing her to play me. Part of me wonders if she was playacting this whole time, but deep in my gut, I know something's wrong.

Nora would never just ghost me. She would at least tell me it was over, that she had to follow her father's orders now. She'd warn me.

I pace the stone path over and over again, because standing still feels worse. The light from the house barely reaches the edges of the courtyard, and I don't care who sees me. I’m losing it.

Every part of me is screaming that something’s wrong. The silence isn’t normal coming from her, especially not after everything we said to each other. It doesn’t line up with who she is or the way she looked at me that night—like it meant something.

I stop pacing and force myself to turn around. Then I start again, walking the same worn track across the courtyard. My boots grind into the gravel with each step, and my grip on the phone tightens until my knuckles sting with pressure.

I don’t think she meant to disappear. That’s what keeps tearing through me. If she meant it, I could hate her. If this were a choice, I could live with it. But I know it’s not. She wouldn’t stay quiet unless someone made her. And that only makes what I'm feeling worse because it's lack of control. Seamus has her locked—I can feel it. She's a prisoner to his whims, and he won't back down now that we've drawn first blood.

Killian finds me out here, but he doesn’t speak right away. He stands with his arms at his sides, shoulders squared, eyes locked on me like he’s trying to calculate the damage. Not the damage to the crew or the estate, but to me. Like he's already counted the hours I’ve spent pacing and knows exactly what it means. He doesn’t ask if I’ve eaten or slept, doesn't even ask if it's Nora that I'm upset over.

The answer’s written all over me. He just watches, his jaw tight, like he’s wondering how far I’ll spiral before someone pulls me back—or if I’m already past that point.

"She’s not answering," I snarl as my eyes catch his. The beast in me feels caged, and maybe that's why I'm pacing.

He raises an eyebrow. "No shit."

"It’s been four days." Raking a hand through my hair, I finally find the willpower to stop walking and face him.

"Yeah, and you’ve been counting?" He chuckles, and it pricks me deeper than her silence.

I turn on him fast, stomping over and almost grabbing him by his shirt. "Something's wrong."

"She’s a Fitzpatrick, Connor. That’s always been the problem." Killian is calm and collected, not intimidated by my temper like he should be. I could kill him right here and Ronan wouldn't even question my reasons. But I won't, and Killian knows it. We're friends—closer than brothers, even if he does piss me off.

"No, not this time," I tell him, huffing out a sigh.

He steps forward. "You’re pacing a hole in the courtyard like some lovesick schoolboy, Connor. That's the problem. You let amark get under your skin and now you're paying that price. I tried to warn you."

"She wouldn’t just go quiet. Not without warning. Not after what we talked about." I give him a soft shove, and he backs up a few steps, but his expression stays neutral. He's going to try to talk me out of my bad mood, but it won't work.

Killian folds his arms. "We have twenty square miles of dockyard under our control, three informants gone silent, and Russians testing our hold on the southern corridor. You think I give a shit about some girl who hasn’t texted back?"

"She’s not some girl, damn you." I step closer again. My anger needs an outlet, and tonight, it might just come in the form of my hands connecting to his face.

His jaw tightens. "No, she’s not. She’s a Fitzpatrick. And they’re using her to pull you apart. You think I don’t see it? They send her in soft, you go stupid, and we all end up on our backs. Ronan has tried to warn you and you fucking refuse to listen to him. You ignore his orders. You're putting everyone at risk." He gestures with his hand, and I don't flinch.

"I know what I’m doing," I tell him in a growl. My hands are curled up tightly. If this phone isn't a crumpled piece of tin foil when I'm done here, I'll be amazed.

"No, you don’t. If you did, you’d be in the war room instead of chasing ghosts in the courtyard." He runs a hand over his hair, and I step closer.

"If you think this is just about me missing her, you're dumber than you look." He has no clue what her silence means. For all we know, Seamus could've bartered a deal with Volkov and they'll be on our doorstep any second. Her connecting to me isthe only hope we have. I have to get in contact with her and make her father see the light. Together, we're stronger. Divided, the Bratva will destroy us both.

Killian laughs coldly. "You're in love. That makes you stupid."

I clench my jaw so tight it aches. "And what would you do if it was your girl? If it was someone who looked you in the eye and told you things they’ve never said to anyone else?"

"I'd bury it." Killian's expression tells me he means it, but I don't think he understands it because he's never experienced it.

"Yeah, well I can't." I turn, ready to storm off, but I stop and stare across the garden of the O'Rourke estate. None of my brothers are stupid enough to get into bed with the enemy. I know this is on me, but I don't fucking care anymore. At this point, I feel like the only way to have her might be to fully betray my family and become one of Seamus's lackies. I have to have her.

Killian lets my rebuttal hang. We stand there, both of us breathing hard, nothing between us but frost and years of friendship fracturing. Then Killian steps forward and hits me—a hard, flat punch to the back of the head. Not enough to knock me forward, just enough to make it hurt a little.

"Then be smart about it," he says. "If you're going to bleed for her, make damn sure it means something."

He walks off without waiting for a reply, and I stand there with his words pressing into my ribs. Ronan may very well disown me after this, but it's a risk I might have to take.

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