Chapter 29

Boris heads to the shower, and I snuggle into Cillian's chest. It feels strange to have everything I ever wanted in the same house as me. For so long, I thought a home was a place where families hid secrets from each other, but not here. Now I know that it is so much more than that. It's comfort and love and peace .

Cillian sucks in a sharp breath as my fingers trail a path down his abs.

"Sweetheart, keep doing that and we are about to be doing a whole lot more than just cuddling."

I groan at his sexy, gruff morning voice. "What if more than cuddles is what I want?"

He leans back, looking me directly in the eye. "I want to give you whatever you want, but please don't ask me to risk hurting you right now."

It's a soft plea that makes me want him all the more. But I hold back because I know my body feels the worst in the morning after staying so still all night.

I need to get up and do my morning stretches and the physical therapy the nurses mapped out for me. Yet, laying here in his arms is just too good right now.

"Okay, Killer. I'll make you a deal. I will stop teasing if you tell me something."

He shifts us so that we are laying face to face, then kisses my nose before saying, "Anything."

"I think I remembered something. You know, from our time in that cell together."

His brows crease, but I can feel his body stiffen. I don't know if he wanted me to remember or if it was just the story of a man who believed we were both about to die, but I need to know.

"Alright, what do you remember?"

I can't look at him when I ask, so instead I focus on the freckles along his collarbone that are almost visible through his tattoos. I don't think anyone would notice unless they knew exactly where they were before the ink. But I know. I know every inch of him just as he knows every inch of me.

"You said you were always there." Working up the courage, I look up at him. "What did you mean by that?"

"I meant exactly what I said. I was always there."

I roll on my side, propping my head up with my hand as I stare at his body.

"Like a stalker?"

"Yes." He finally moves his arm and mirrors my position. "And a protector."

"When did you protect me?"

I have a feeling I already know the answer to this, but I want him to say it. I feel cheated out of all the times he was able to watch my pain, yet everything about him was lost to me. His eyes glance down as if he is ashamed.

"I killed countless Reapers as I worked up the ranks in the Shades. Anyone I could get away with taking out who dared lay a hand on you, I did. I used them to learn torture methods to hone my craft."

He looks up at me as if afraid I will fear him because of his admission, but instead, all I feel is pride. I may not have been strong enough or in the right position to put down the men who worked for my father, but he was and he did.

"Before I left, I was innocent."

He reaches out and tucks some hair behind my ear before trailing his fingers down my cheek and over my lips.

"But when I saw that you needed a real killer by your side, that was who I was determined to be."

I never wanted that life for him; I wouldn't have wished it on anyone. Yet, now that he's here, after everything, I'm thankful. He fought for me even when I thought I was alone.

"Why did you never let me know you were there? Especially after Enya."

"Because I failed both of you." His eyes glass over but tears never fall. "I couldn't come to terms with it for the longest time. The Celtic knot is for you, but it's red for Enya."

A lump forms in my throat as I realize why.

"Because she always burned so bright? You would call her a little flame when she went after something she wanted."

"She was a path of beautiful destruction," he says, his voice strained. "And she died because I couldn't pull the trigger fast enough."

I shake my head, taking his hand in mine and pressing it to my lips as I tell him something only a few people know.

"She died trying to save me. She went to Ronan so I wouldn't have to."

He wipes away a tear that I hadn't realized had fallen. "It's not your fault, Ness."

I close my eyes because he doesn't know that I secretly hoped it would have worked. I would have gotten her away from him, but I was terrified of that man. I knew the second he had me, I would be locked away for the rest of my life.

"You could have come to me," I choke out. "I would have run with you if you had asked."

His thumb grazes my chin, moving back and forth. "I was waiting for the day when you would take everything from your father. I could see it in you, right beneath the surface. You were always stronger than him, and I think he knew it and didn't know what to do."

"I thought about it many times but chickened out every chance I got."

I feel weak every time I admit it, but it's the truth. There were so many moments when I could have taken his throne from him, but instead, I continued being his willing little punching bag.

"I knew you would one day, and I would be there to witness it. I wanted you to grow from a girl who was kind and loving, to a machine that was as violent as I felt. You began to thrive on bloody knuckles and mayhem, and I loved that about you. It made my chest ache just as much as it turned me on."

I look into his eyes, seeing the truth in his admission.

"There is beauty in pain," I say quietly.

"And yours is the most beautiful agony I have ever witnessed."

Cillian leans in, and just when I think he is going to kiss me, he instead licks the tears from my face. It startles me but also makes my body light up with pleasure.

Grabbing his face, I pull him to me, our lips colliding and our tongues tangling together. That piercing teases me with the promise of more as Cillian skillfully strokes inside my mouth.

It's slow and sensual, but when our kiss breaks and his dark eyes meet mine, everything begins to make sense.

It's then that I realize that while Cillian might be a villain, he has always been my avenging angel, guarding me from what I could not see. His wings may be black, but his heart is still as pure and innocent as the day I met him. He might not see that side of himself, but I do. It's the part of him that can love even when the pain feels like too much.

"What do you feel for me now? After all of that?"

We are sleeping in the same bed, doing things together. I need to know this means as much to him as it does to me.

A soft smile touches his lips. One that makes him look as dangerously unhinged as it does adorable. "I think I feel the same way for you as you do for the old man."

I poke at his chest with a giggle. "Are you jealous, Killer?" I squeeze his bicep so he knows I'm just messing with him.

"Nah," he says, waving a hand in the air. "I can take him."

My grip turns punishing though. "Hurt him and I'll kill you."

That grin on his face only grows to one that could rival the insanity of the Joker. Cillian pulls my hand, bringing us close until our noses are almost touching. "Is that a threat, Sweetheart? You know those turn me on."

As if to punctuate his words, he presses my hand into his very hard erection. I almost lose my train of thought thinking about the mess he made between us last night as I rocked my hips on top of him. Almost.

Leaning in, I brush my nose over his lightly and whisper, "It's a promise, Killer."

Cillian shudders as he pulls back and relents teasingly. "Fine. I guess the old man is growing on me."

"I don't want to be anywhere on you," Boris says, walking out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, all of his beautiful muscles on display.

I can't help the laugh that bubbles out of me. It hurts a little bit, but it's so worth it. Everything has felt so serious recently, especially when they can see my injuries. But right now, it just feels like we're a family as Cillian taunts Boris about secretly wanting him.

They can both see it's a joke, but they play into it. Their banter has been my favorite thing from the moment Cillian walked through our door, and I don't think that will ever change.

???

A gentle knock sounds at our bedroom door, and I sit up in the bed. I asked the guys to give me some space to talk through things with Dr. K. I don't want to have to worry about their feelings while I try to find a way to manage my own.

"Come in," I say as a familiar redheaded woman pokes her head around the door.

"Nessa," she greets with a smile and I smile back.

"Hey, Dr. K. Long time, no talk."

It has been a little bit since we talked, but not that long.

"I see your life has changed a bit in the past few weeks if the two men downstairs are anything to go by," she adds with a soft chuckle.

My cheeks flame as I nod. "The two of them have made life very interesting, that's for sure."

Getting out of bed, I carefully move to the sitting area near the windows. I choose the loveseat so I can prop myself up with the pillows there, and Dr. K takes a seat in the large chair. I chew my bottom lip as she gets her tablet out and begins typing something. When she looks up at me, a fog I can't describe begins to fill the room.

"Why are you looking at me like I'm the boogeyman, Nessa?"

Her head tilts to the side ever so slightly, and I take a deep breath.

"Don't feel pressured to talk about anything you are not ready to talk about yet. I can be here as often as you need."

I nod, her reassurance helping to take some of the weight off my shoulders I wasn't aware of.

"What would you like to talk about today?" she asks.

I look around the room, trying to find the right words.

"Everything, maybe?" I respond with a shrug.

Dr. K lets out a small hum of contemplation. "Everything is quite a big topic for one day."

"I guess my biggest problem right now is that I feel too needy. When I wake up, I find that I need Boris and Cillian there. If they aren't, I begin to panic."

"I see. Do you know what started that?"

I think back to the cell I was held in, but realize that maybe this started before that.

"Boris tried to leave me. To walk away from us because of Cillian."

Her eyes grow wide, and I raise my hands in the air, showing my shock of the situation as well.

"It was surprising but also not. Cillian and Boris banter a lot, and it led to Boris telling Cillian to have his way with me."

I don't go into detail because Dr. K is like a mother figure to all of us and the last thing I would ever talk to my mother about is sex.

"I see," she says. "So Boris tried to leave, and then you were kidnapped. Were you kept separate?"

I lower my head. "Yes, but I could see them. I couldn't feel them, but I could hear them."

I hate thinking about how cold that room felt and how all I wanted was to be pressed against one of them. Maybe even both of them.

"And that is why you crave them to be close when you wake up. I would deduce that your mind is trying to find a tangible way to wake up with the belief that you're safe. Feeling their heat or body pressed against yours likely helps you wake in a calm state."

Scoffing, I shake my head at myself.

"But that's no way to live. I can't ask them to be there every single time I wake up to prevent a panic attack. I won't ask that of them. That is no way for any of us to live. I refuse to be dependent on another person like that."

"Nessa, I have a question for you." She tilts her head in that therapist way, the move they make right before they drop a bomb on you by putting your thoughts in a realistic order.

"If you fell and broke both of your arms, would you refuse their help?"

My brow pinches. "No." I would literally need them to do almost anything.

"Then why is this any different?"

I raise my arms. "Because I am fully capable of using these."

I can see her trying to hold back a laugh.

"Do you think that mental scars are not as traumatic or valid as physical scars?"

I look down at my arms and the scabs that are nearly healed over. Then I think about my friends, my family, and everything we have endured in our lives.

"I would almost argue that it's the opposite," I admit.

Dr. K waves her tablet pen at me.

"Exactly. It is okay to have help while you heal. Let them be there to comfort you. Let them bring you assurance. It's the same as letting them help you eat if you broke an arm, or get into a car if you broke your foot. It's okay to ask for help. This feeling is temporary. Your body will begin to adjust to the changes soon, and the less fresh the trauma is, the easier it will be to stay in the present."

What she is saying makes sense. "So how do I stop the anxiety for now?"

She thinks for a minute. "Does anything help you pause or come back to yourself that you're aware of?"

I try to focus on each time I woke up and didn't feel them there.

"When they touch me or breathe with me."

Smiling at me, she nods. "Physical touch and breathing techniques are some of the best ways to bring the present into focus. It sounds like you have a good support system."

I do. I'm very lucky. Yet, what do I do when they aren't here? Will I need to call Dr. K each time I feel like I am losing myself?

"Where are you going in that head of yours, Nessa?"

I didn't even realize that I had fully zoned out. With a sigh, I slowly lean into the arm of the couch. "I just want to know I can be resilient without them having to be here."

Dr. K reaches out and pats my arm.

"Resiliency is learned the same way that we teach ourselves patience. Do you want to know the number one factor in what helps us create resilience?"

I nod, my eyes beginning to burn. I don't want to cry.

"A supportive partner or parent. They're what helps someone build real resilience. You only set yourself back when you isolate or force yourself to face your fears without the support of those that love you surrounding you. Having someone by your side to remind you that fear isn't everything will help you build those blocks of resilience back up. Validation, along with comfort, tells your mind that you are safe. It trusts that you will survive even when you are afraid because you have others you can rely on."

"So you're saying that in order to become independent again, I should rely on the people around me until my brain believes it's safe?" I ask, trying to understand.

"What would the alternative be?"

I hate when she turns the question around on me. It's such a therapist thing to do. Rolling my eyes, I avoid her gaze.

"I don't know. Force myself to be uncomfortable until my mind is tricked into thinking it's not really that bad?" I cringe slightly, realizing how dumb it sounds when I say it out loud.

Dr. K sits back in her seat as she reads the epiphany on my face.

"You cannot heal in the same environment that hurt you. You cannot grow when you are around those who cut you down. Forcing yourself into those situations does not make you stronger. It only hurts you ."

"What do people do who don't have anyone to rely on then?"

What if my men do leave and I'm forced to deal with it on my own. I know it isn't likely, but I need to know.

Dr. K lets out a long sigh. "It is much harder. That road is paved with blood, sweat, and tears. As a therapist, I would advise anyone going through a hard time to find a partner to help them. It could be a friend that they talk to, or just someone they see daily who can check in with them."

I can feel my heartbeat pounding in my chest. Learning to rely on others is a difficult thing to accept. You never know when they will leave.

"At the end of the day, we're social creatures. We're not meant to live our lives alone and in the dark. Sometimes, the key to healing is simply to realize that and come out of your cave mentally or physically. Other times, it takes work and perseverance."

"I feel like we keep taking on battles only to be stuck in another war right when we've reached the end."

I hang my head and close my eyes. I don't want to fight another battle.

"Have you ever heard the term survivor?" Dr. K asks, leaning forwards so I have to look at her.

"Yes." Who hasn't?

"I think the biggest insult we can give those who have lived with trauma is to call them a survivor because that implies that they already won the war."

She reaches out and places a hand on my knee.

"Life is a constant war. You will face battles every day no matter who you are. For some, it's a battle to get up every morning and choose to live. For others, it's a problem at work, or just the mental struggle to choose what is going to be for dinner."

She isn't wrong. I hate having to pick what we have for a meal.

"The goal is not to just survive, Nessa. It is to thrive ."

"So if we aren't survivors, then what are we?"

Dr. K has this way of changing my perspective on life in profound ways, and I can feel that she is about to do it again.

"You're a fighter, Nessa—you, Evie, Laney, everyone around you. All of you are fighters because you choose to keep going. You choose perseverance and strength. You don't simply survive life, you find a way to thrive in every situation you're challenged with. Just as I know you will do with this one."

My mouth nearly drops open at her words. I feel like this is something I have needed to hear my entire life. When I would blame myself at night for not standing up to my father or telling him no.

All the times that I would mentally beat myself up and surround myself with people who only did the same thing in an attempt to weaken their effect on me. I could never figure out why I couldn't just rise above it all.

But now it makes sense. If I want to change, and believe that what I have been given is something I am worthy of, I need to surround myself with people who believe that for me until I can do the same for myself.

"So how do I start?"

She clears her throat. "You need to talk with Boris and ask him to reassure you that when he does leave, he will be coming back. That will help rewire your brain to believe that he's not leaving for good. Let them touch you and help you when they can, but also work on these things yourself. Start with the mindset that you are capable and supported. Just remind yourself of that."

I think I can do that. She takes notes for both of us and says she'll also send me what we discussed so I don't forget. I'm thankful because I feel like I just ran a marathon. I am so tired that I know I won't remember everything.

"Before you go," I say while she puts her tablet back into her bag, "I have a question."

"Alright." She straightens in her chair, giving me all of her attention.

"They caught the men that did this to me." I gesture to the healing wounds, my sore feet, and really just everything.

"And you want to make them pay?" She assumes.

I shake my head, confused as to how I feel about this. "Part of me wants that, but I think I am afraid doing anything to them will trigger me. What do you think?"

Dr. K sighs, rubbing her temples with her fingers. "When I went to school to become a therapist, we were told that murder was wrong to encourage."

I giggle at that. "And yet you work for the mafia."

She nods her head in disbelief. "Yes. So, it's because of who I work for that I will give you this advice. This isn't grounded in research, mind you. But I've been working here a while, and this is something I've come to believe."

I prepare myself for her to say that we need to let these men go. And as much as I appreciate her helping us, that isn't something I can do. They have to be put down. The underworld has to govern itself or too many people get hurt.

So imagine my shock when she sighs and looks at me to say, "Make it quick."

It takes a second for my brain to catch up with what she just said. That was the last thing I expected.

"What?"

She laughs at my dumbfoundedness.

"Shocking, right? But here's the thing. I've worked with many people and heard many stories that I never thought I would have to hear in order to help people process. This world is different. No one will sleep better at night if you let these men go. Quite the opposite, in fact."

A heavy sigh leaves her lips.

"However, for your mental health, I would advise that you make it quick. Drawing out torture has no point other than taking away energy from you that you could be using to heal. The end result will be the same, they will be dead. If you draw it out, you will always question if you made them pay enough. You will wonder in the moment you take back the power, did the person who hurt you truly regret their choice. If they do or don't, it doesn't matter. It won't change the past, and it won't affect the future."

"So, just kill them and be done with it?" It's not a bad idea, really. She isn't wrong. And if hell is real, their suffering will be better than anything I could do to them here. Might as well send them to their damnation sooner.

"No, kill them and move on . That's the point after all, correct? Take their life so that yours can continue without fear of them coming back to hurt you."

She's right. Dammit, we're lucky to have her. Cillian joked that a mafia with a shrink was unheard of, but maybe Dr. K is exactly what our world needs.