Page 133 of Bonds of Pain
He shakes his head. “Only to you.”
“Well, I’ve been close enough to see through the facade.”
“It’s not just that. You’re more than a little brilliant, actually. More than any of us deserve.” He pushes off the wall and gestures for me to follow him to the bedroom. “Which is why we need to get you out of here while you have the chance.”
I watch in surprise from the doorway as Cillian packs my bag, hurriedly shoving clothes into the leather duffel that once carried my meager possessions to the palace. His movements are frantic, lacking his usual precision as he grabs items seemingly at random.
“What are you doing?” I ask, refusing to believe what I’m seeing.
Cillian doesn’t look up, continuing to stuff my things into the bag. “I’d think that would be obvious. Hand me those shoes there.”
I stare at him, disbelief washing over me. After everything—the forced bond, the carving of Logan’s sigil into my chest, my suicide attempt—Cillian is helping me escape?
“I don’t understand,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why now?”
He pauses, ice-blue eyes finally meeting mine. The haunted look in them makes my breath catch.
“Because it’s too late for you to have the life you wanted,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “But I can at least offer you freedom from what’s hurting you most.” He zips the bag closed with quick, jerky movements. “Go to the Spring Palace. Ask for sanctuary from the Queen Mother. Eleanora will protect you. You’ll be safe there.”
My mind races, trying to make sense of his sudden change of heart. The Queen Mother had seemed kind during our brief meeting, but seeking sanctuary from Logan’s grandmother feels like putting a simple bandage on a gaping wound.
“What about Logan?” I ask.
“I’ll deal with Logan.”
I step closer, searching his face. “And you? Are you coming with me?”
Something flickers across his features—regret, longing, resignation. He crosses the distance between us in two quick strides, his hands cupping my face with unexpected gentleness. Before I can react, his lips crash into mine.
The kiss is nothing like our previous ones. It is desperate, fierce, aching with emotions I can’t name. Through our bond, I feel a wave of sorrow so profound it steals my breath. When he pulls away, his eyes shine with unshed tears.
“I wish I could do more,” he whispers, his forehead resting against mine. “But turning them in to the Inquisitor is as much of a betrayal of Logan as the bond will allow.”
Ice floods my veins as his words register. I pull back, horror dawning as the pieces click into place.
My voice sounds strange to my own ears, strangled and distant. “Cillian, what exactly did you tell the Inquisitor?”
“Everything.” His expression hardens, resignation settling over his features like a shroud. “I’m sure they’ll be coming to arrest me next for designation fraud.”
The world tilts beneath my feet as realization crashes over me. Cillian betrayed Logan—betrayed all of them—to the Inquisitor. That’s why Poe and Ares were arrested. That’s why the king’s guards stormed the apartment.
And he has no idea what horror he has just unleashed.
A slow clapping sound breaks the silence, and we both whirl toward the doorway.
Dr. Sionis Thane stands there, his thin lips curved in a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Behind him loom several men I’ve never seen before—large, hard-faced figures who look nothing like palace guards. Mercenaries, hired muscle.
“Well done, Cillian,” the Inquisitor says, his clinical gaze shifting between us. “I must say, your timing is impeccable. I’d hoped to collect the matched set at once.”
Cillian steps in front of me, his body tensing. “What do you think you’re doing here?”
“Taking what I came here for, finally. The perfect specimens to advance my research. And without any pesky Alphas around to get in the way.” Thane gestures at the two men behind him, dressed as palace guards in ill-fitting uniforms, but obviously mercenaries. “Two Omegas bonded to each other. I can’t wait to see what pieces of you look like under a microscope.”
Cillian launches himself at the Inquisitor.
It’s ironic that the first time I get to see Cillian fight, the glory of his skill on full display, the contest is doomed from the start.
If he had weapons or was only concerned with getting himself away, then he might have stood a chance.
