Page 131 of Brutal Heir
“I don’t know yet,” I finally hiss. “I wanted to see your face before I made my choice.”
Bran’s throat bobs. “And?”
Alessandro’s face fills my vision, his deep voice, that familiar touch, and I nearly break. How can I do this to him? To us?
“You made a vow to Conall,” he starts.
“Feck that, Bran. I had no say in that marriage, and you know it. Da forced me to marry that bastard.”
“Either way, Blaine doesn’t deserve to die because you shirked your duty.”
Unbelievable. I want to scream. I want to stab at something repeatedly. I consider loosing my hairpin dagger but think better of it.
My family never gave two shites about me until the Butcher caught up with them.
And still, here I am, the first to run back at their call. I square my shoulders. I’ll find a way out of this somehow. “I’ll go back,” I spit.
My heart lodges in my throat as I say it. The words feel like knives. Like chains. But Blaine’s my baby brother. I held him when he cried the day Ma died. I taught him how to throw his first punch. I can’t let him die for me. Even if he failed me, I won’t do the same.
Bran blinks. “You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
He looks at me like he doesn’t believe it. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to.
“Does Rossi know where you are?”
“No,” I whisper. “And you’re not going to tell him. I don’t want Conall anywhere near him.”
Bran scoffs. “Do you think the Italian will just let you vanish?”
A wave of nausea rolls through me. “He’ll hate me, but he’ll live. I just hope he doesn’t come looking for me before I do what I have to.”
Footsteps echo in the hall beyond the door. Maybe one of the staff saw us come in.
I press my hand to Bran’s chest. “Just give me a minute alone.”
“Brig—”
“I mean it.” My voice shakes as I pull my phone out from my pocket. “Alessandro saved me. I won’t leave him without at least a text message…”
Bran studies me a second longer, then nods. “Okay. But if you’re not out in five, I’m coming in after you. Conall’s private jet is waiting at the airport?—”
“Of course it is.”
He huffs a short, bitter laugh then heads for the door.
My fingers fly across the keypad, my throat thick with emotion. Then pocketing my phone, I glance around the room one last time. One last breath. One last second.
CHAPTER 50
COMING FOR YOU
Alessandro
Cazzo, Rory where are you?
I pace the length of my desk like a rabid tiger trapped in a cage, my hand brushing the square bulge in my pocket. My heart crashes against my ribs, each wild beat more suffocating than the last. She’s gone. She was there one instant and gone the next.
