Page 29 of Royal Beast
His jaw clenches, his body stiffening. A flash of hurt passes in his eyes, vanishing just as quickly as it appears, replaced with a cold anger.
“You think I wanted to make you feel like you had to run away from me? You think I wanted you to be afraid, to feel like I’m some kind of monster? You’re an adult, Darcy. You’re capable of making your own choices. Don’t make me out to be something I’m not here. I’m just trying to look out for you. You made your decision the moment you walked away from me.”
I know what he’s saying is true, but it doesn’t make the sting any less painful. “I wish I’d never met you,” I snarl. “You drew me into your world and I never wanted that. You knew that was a possibility by forcing my hand. That’s why I was attacked, because ofyou.”
The tension between us is thick, but neither of us is willing to bend. Kellan shakes his head, his expression hardening as he edges off the couch and limps away from me. “I’m done,” he mutters. “I can’t deal with you right now. I need space. Let me know when you’re ready to stop blaming me foryourchoices.”
Hobbling into the bedroom, he slams the door behind him, the sound echoing through the penthouse. The lock clicks, and I stand there for a moment, completely frozen. My heart is in my throat and the room suddenly feels small and suffocating. I’m angry, I’m hurt, and I’m tired. Tired of trying to deal with Kellan, tired of trying to fight him every step of the way. Guilt still weighs heavily on me, reminding me that everyone is in this situation because of my decisions.
His words echo in my head. I never asked for this, but he’s right. I made my bed. I chose this life when I signed that contract.
I just wish I’d thought it through more. But then I’m reminded that even that choice was taken from me. Kellanpushed me to make a decision too fast, and now I’m stuck regretting it.
But did he?a little voice in my head asks.Did you choose this because you felt you had t, or because deep down, you wanted to?
A pang of regret rises, sharp and cold. I wanted to keep Rose safe. That was why I distanced myself from Kellan after our night together, especially after I found out I was pregnant. I knew then that getting involved with someone like him could only lead to trouble.
Maybe I owed it to him to tell him that Rose was his child, but I justified it at the time by telling myself that I was doing what was best for my daughter.
I head to her bedroom, standing outside the door, watching her sleep. She looks so soft, so angelic, so innocent.
I sigh as I push open the door, the soft glow of her nightlight casting a gentle warmth over her. She’s curled up in a fetal position, her little face peaceful, framed by the messy strands of her hair.
It’s as if all the events of the day never happened. I hope she doesn’t have nightmares from this. I never wanted her to worry about things, not like I had to as a child.
I think about my own childhood, which was so much harder than I’d ever let hers be. My father’s face comes into my mind unbidden. He’d dive into one get-rich-quick scheme after another, each one more ridiculous than the last, keeping our lives on an emotional and financial rollercoaster.
He’d scrape together any money he could find, putting it into what he believed was the next big thing, only for it to fall apart and leave us with nothing. It wasn’t just his ideas that let us down. It was his inability to accept responsibility for anything. We moved from one mess to another, each failure worse than thelast, and every time he came home empty-handed, it felt like a stab to the chest.
That’s why I’ve been so focused on keeping us safe, on making sure nothing ever interferes with Rose’s sense of security. I’ve become obsessed with controlling everything, making sure she never feels the fear I felt as a child. But now, looking back at the mess I’ve created, I realize that in trying to protect Rose, I’ve overcompensated. I’ve built walls so high, trying to shield her from the world, that I’ve ended up hurting the very people I’m supposed to protect.
I know I’ll always put Rose first—that’s non-negotiable. I realize that putting her first means learning to get along with Kellan, at least for now. I’ll have to put aside my anger and my pride and act like I can follow his rules, if only for Rose’s sake. I don’t have to like him or the life he lives, but if I can make this work, if I can make this easier on Rose, maybe I can find a way out without dragging her through more danger.
So for now, I’ll behave myself. I’ll play nice.
For her.
14
KELLAN
Though it’s only been three days, the silence between us is deafening. Darcy moves around the apartment like a shadow, keeping to herself, barely meeting my eyes. I don’t know if it’s guilt or anger, but there’s something in the way she sidesteps me. Her voice is tense and clipped whenever she talks, making me think it’s not just Rose who was unsettled by the whole incident.
Fortunately, Rose seems to be recovering just fine. She had nightmares the first night, screaming out loud enough to wake us both up, but once Darcy and I got her settled back down, she seemed to take everything in stride and hasn’t had any more.
I don’t know if I can take the silence much longer.
As I look out the window, the city lights casting faint patterns against the glass, frustration mounts inside me, squeezing at my chest. I can’t keep staring at the four walls of this apartment or keep pretending that Darcy’s avoidance doesn’t bother me. Despite our marriage, we’ve never felt more like strangers than we do right now.
It feels like ages ago that I put my life on the line for her, though it’s only been days. And all that’s come of it is moredistance, more mistrust. Why can’t we seem to get past our issues?
Approaching her right now seems like a bad idea so I reach for my car keys, the decision made before I register it. I need a stiff drink and to get away from this place, clear my head.
The pub is dim and familiar, the scents of aged wood and stale beer oddly comforting. As I amble inside, I spot Finn seated in the corner, nursing a pint. Deciding that what I need most is a listening ear, I slide into the booth across from him. He raises an eyebrow but lifts his glass in a silent gesture of permission.
“Long time, no see,” he says, his voice gruff but his eyes sharp, taking in the bruises that haven’t quite faded.
I give him a brief nod and order myself a drink, the weight of everything pressing down on me until it all spills out. I tell him about the fight, the Russians, and Darcy’s silence since. Finn listens, as he always does, his expression calm and unreadable. When I’m finished, he nods slowly, fingers tapping against his glass.
