Chapter 10

Boris went to pick up Nessa after finding out just how skuttered she was. The two of us listened to her complain about not wanting to leave her car at Evie's until Alexi offered to drive it back.

Her emotional attachment to that vehicle is unhealthy.

And we know that means a lot coming from me.

The front door bangs open, and Nessa laughs uncontrollably. I round the corner to find her lying on the foyer floor with Boris' jacket wrapped around her legs.

"I told you to go slow," Boris says, chuckling as he helps her to her feet.

I'm already ready for bed, so I wait there in black sweatpants and a white tank while watching them together.

When Evie first suggested I find a way to make things work between the three of us, I was worried that I would feel loads of jealousy. However, when I see the two of them together now, it's not like that at all.

Nessa spent so many years under her father's thumb, and I always took it as my job to find a way to bring her joy during that time. I would joke, insisting weeds were flowers and things of such. I would dance any chance I got just to see her laugh at me.

There was nothing I wasn't willing to do to put a smile on her face. And it seems Boris feels the same.

Although we do things differently for her, at the end of the day, she is happy. I can't help but remember the day she saved me. The same day I vowed I would do anything for this woman until my dying breath.

We are moving, I can feel it. The back of the truck is large, but the mass of stacked crates shrinks the space down until I feel trapped. Looking around, I see the faces of five scared children from our village, all varying in age.

Even my young brain can tell that this has something to do with the mafia that has grown exponentially in our town. It never used to be quiet or safe, but I never thought I would be dragged out of my bed in the middle of the night.

Yet, that's what happened.

I try to take a deep breath, but it keeps getting caught in my lungs. The car hits a bump, causing the kids to scream as they are jostled around. My bound hands scramble to hold on to the wooden crate next to me, as I feel terror sinking into my bones.

As my breathing kicks up, a small girl crawls to my side. Something about her is different. She can't be much older than six or seven to my eleven-year-old self. Light auburn hair that sweeps in front of her face almost hides away her expression.

But I see it. She isn't scared.

"Hey," she says quietly.

I watch her for a minute before slowly releasing the bar as she presses herself to my side.

"Hey."

A shy smile touches her lips. "You're Cillian, right?"

"How do you know me?"

She shrugs. "I know most of the people in our town. My father wants me to be a scout, and that means I have to know the names of everyone around me."

She has so much confidence for such a young girl, and it somehow calms some of my nerves.

"So, you know everyone here?"

She nods. "Yeah, no one will talk to me though. They think this is all my fault."

I balk at her. "How could this be your fault?"

Her little nose wrinkles. "I don't know. But most people like to blame things on my father, and when he isn't in the room, then they blame me."

"O'Neil?" I ask, putting two and two together. It's only now that I notice the resemblance to the mafia leader.

"Yeah," she sighs. "Bet you want me to leave you alone now too, huh?"

I shake my head, grinning at her. If there is one thing I have learned in this world, it's that those who hold power also create targets for those around them.

I don't know how, but I can tell that this girl deserves someone to see her for her.

"You know my name is Cillian, but what's yours?"

"Enya." She smiles at me as the freckles on her face become noticeable.

"Well, Enya, let's stick together. What do you say?"

Tiny arms wrap around my neck. I would return the gesture, but my hands are bound.

"I have a feeling someone will be here to save us soon. Don't worry Cil." She sits back, bracing herself on the side of the truck as we hit bump after bump.

I usually hate when my name is shortened, but her sweet little voice makes me not hate it as much.

"Oh, let me help you with that." She points to the tape around my wrists. I hold them up for her as her small fingers pry away the tape bit by bit.

I am just about to thank her as I rub my wrists together when, out of nowhere, our bodies are lifted into the air.

My shoulders smack into the metal over and over and I reach for Enya, trying to shield her from being rolled around in this metal death trap as best I can. Screaming ensues all around us, and the back doors open abruptly and aggressively.

The other kids take off, holding their arms and crying. A pair of hands grab me, but I fight, jumping from their hold as I search for Enya.

Then I see her hair. Her small body is trapped under one of the crates that was stacked at the front of the truck bed.

"Enya," I call for her.

Smoke swirls around us, thickening the air as the smell of gasoline strengthens the closer I get to her, but I push through. I have to be fast.

Heaving the crate from her body, she blinks up at me. Her body is scraped up, but no limbs look out of place. Fire licks the walls around us, threatening to consume everything in its wake.

The shadow of a body appears behind me, and I lunge through the flames at the man. "Enya, run!"

She scrambles upright as the man I am pushing away from her yells at me. "I'm on your side. Get out of here."

My brain catches on that this is a rescue mission and we dart out of the back together, just as the engine of the vehicle bursts into flames.

One of the crates from the back tumbles out from the explosion and falls on me. My feet stumble and my body hits the dirt as flames race toward me, threatening to burn me alive.

That's when I see it. Ginger hair and a face as bright and beautiful as the sun. A hand a little smaller than mine reaches out, pulling me from the debris.

She grabs some of the dirt around us, tossing it over my socks which I now realize are engulfed in flames. My skin is screaming as I watch her, but maybe shock has settled into me because I don't react. I heard the term when my mother was watching some medical drama, how you freeze even when you're in pain. That sounds like what's happening now.

"You saved my sister," she says, pulling me in for a hug. "Thank you."

I don't respond, I just wrap my arms around her. A sense of home and freedom tugs at my heart. I don't miss my parents right here, I don't want to run home. All I want is to stay right here with her.

Then the pain starts to kick in and I hiss. She jumps back, pulling my feet from the dirt, causing me to nearly cry out.

"Shite, Papa!" The man I've always known to fear comes to my side, concern laced in his features.

"He saved Enya. Can we help him?"

The man takes a minute to stare at me before nodding.

"I will call the doctor. Enya says all of the others are accounted for. We will be taking her to the hospital. We can take him as well."

"Thank you," I say as he stands. Immediately, I want to take it back as he pulls me to my feet. It feels like every square inch of them is burnt to a crisp.

I think actually walking on liquid lava would hurt less than the trek to the car, but the girl stays with me the whole way. When we get to the running vehicle, Enya is in the back. She quickly makes room, and her sister pushes in beside me while her father and another man take up the front seat.

"Thank you, Cil," Enya says with tears in her eyes.

"Anytime, little one." I wrap an arm around her as her sister stares at us. She has these golden eyes that seem to shine even brighter with the light of the flames outside.

"I'm Nessa," she says quietly, her eyes flitting to her father before returning to me.

"Cillian," I say with a nod as Enya separates herself from my side. "Thank you for saving me."

Nessa is in blacked-out gear, her hair tied up on her head. She looks to be about the same age as I am, but you can tell that she has had to grow up much quicker. Her sister too.

There is a heaviness to their stare that I have a feeling is due to the man sitting in front of me. He is not someone to be messed with, but I already dislike him simply for the way his daughters look at him. It is as if they fear him as much as they want to be accepted by him.

For some reason I can't explain, my hand reaches for Nessa's, and our fingers tangle together as if we were created for each other. This need to protect her and her sister rises fiercely within me.

Nessa saved me, so no matter what I need to do, I will find a way to save her too. Even if I have to grow up and take on the leader of the Irish mafia himself.

"Let's go shower," Boris says with a laugh.

"Noooooo. I want some of that bread you were making with Cillian."

"I'll get some for her," I offer. She looks up at me as the sweetest smile touches her face.

"Killer, you're here."

I look at Boris with a snort. "How much did they drink?"

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," Nessa mumbles, but we do exactly that.

"Alexi found a bottle of vodka and two bottles of wine completely empty by the pool."

I whistle, reaching out for Nessa to help steady her. She leans nearly all of her body weight on me immediately.

"Well, I'll feed her and get something into her system if you want to shower," I offer. "I don't think she will be able to stand on her own. Plus, the heat might make her pass out with how drunk she is."

Boris looks between the two of us, and I hope he sees I'm trying to help. It has been difficult not to play tug-of-war with her, but I have done my best to not try and make him jealous or to outright take time away from the two of them.

I may or may not have bought a book on how to make polyamory work. I also may or may not have read it in a day.

But it insisted that in order for there to be ‘harmony' within any relationship, creating jealousy or competition would only impede that goal.

So I have tried to act my best.

I mean, I might have continued to call him old man just to goad him a bit, but that's part of who I am. He's gotta learn to deal with it.

"Alright," he says after a beat. "I'll be back shortly."

He kisses Nessa on the temple, then turns to head towards the bathroom to shower. Once he's around the corner, I bend and lift Nessa into my arms.

"Wow, such a gentleman," she says as I carry her to the kitchen.

"Only with you," I whisper. "Let's keep it our little secret though. Can't let the world think I've gone soft or anything."

I swipe some of the bread from the cabinet and cut a few slices for her. She watches me carefully, and I can't tell if it's because she needs something to focus on or if she is remembering all of the nights we would sneak into her mother's cupboards and eat the bread.

"I missed you." Her words are so quiet I barely hear them.

But my hand freezes midway between the cutting board and the plate. I look up at her, emotions swirling in my mind.

Pain, loss, grief, but also the sort of happiness I'm sure only the authors of fairy tales can imagine.

"I missed you too, Sweetheart."

After adding a generous amount of bread to the plate, I pass it to her. She eagerly eats every single slice before pleading eyes beg me for more. I oblige, holding in a chuckle. This woman can eat bread like no one I have ever known.

Her eyes start to droop as she finishes. I contemplate taking her to her room, but I have less than zero percent interest in accidentally seeing Boris naked.

Instead, I sweep her into my arms again and head for the living room. Her nose presses into my neck and she inhales.

"Still smells like you."

"I'm still me, Sweetheart. Just a little more unhinged and a lot more fun."

She snorts, her arms wrapping around my neck as I sit us on the couch. I know I should sit her next to me and be the gentleman she claimed I was, but I don't have it in me to let her go.

She sighs, her body subconsciously beginning to trust me again as she leans in. Her warmth feels like something I didn't know was missing.

She feels like home.

My fingers trace the length of her back as she falls asleep in my arms. I have no idea how I am going to keep her in my life, but tonight only solidifies for me that I have to try.

Boris comes in only a few minutes after she falls asleep. He doesn't say anything though, just takes her from my arms with a nod and carries her to bed.

One day soon, I vow to be joining them instead of heading to my room to sleep alone.