29. Gleb

Ididn't feel the blow Fedor landed to my gut during the fight, or the burning pain in my shoulders from the pressure my half-brothers applied to my arms behind my back. Or the humiliation of being brought to my knees—even if they outnumbered me four to one.

All I can feel is the sting of Mel's words. The second she uttered them, all the air was sucked from my chest. And right now, I'm having a hard time believing it will ever come back. That I'll ever be able to draw another breath.

Hearing that Mel doesn't care for me, that she would rather marry a man who would throw his money at her than be with me, cuts me to the bone. It reinforces all the times she's insisted she doesn't want me, all the times she's run from me, all the hesitancy she's shown in accepting my help. How many times did she tell me, but I was too blind to see?

I've been deluding myself this whole time, thinking she wants me.

Every sliver of encouragement she fed me was probably fabricated to get me to lose interest and leave.

And all the while, she kept telling me.

But I kept pushing.

So, she used the best defense mechanism she has in her arsenal.

What else could I expect of a woman who's been taught that her sexuality is the only thing men understand?

Anytime she felt desperate, she turned on her charms. She made me feel alive, so I would hear her. The connection I thought we had was a weapon she used against me, a defensive technique—it wasn't love.

Fuck, it wasn't even lust.

It was survival.

And suddenly, the message is ringing loud and clear.

That gut instinct that told me something was wrong?I misread it completely. It was warning me that I should heed Sascha's advice. That Mel's just like Val, speaking out of both sides of her mouth to suit her own needs. Choosing whichever master will give her the best offer.

Of course, she doesn't want to be a dancer all her life.

But she doesn't want me either.

She wants a real opportunity. Security. Freedom through money.

And the moment Keoghan Kelly's cousin offered it up, she could turn her back on me.

What I hate more than anything is dishonesty. People who don't hold to their integrity. I thought Mel had that, but I should have read the signs.

How many times has Mel lied to me? Kept the truth for her own benefit?

She didn't even bother to tell me about her daughter until she thought I might actually help her out of this situation. I'm such an idiot.

At least I'm the only one who's gotten hurt this time. At least I didn't get countless men slaughtered by keeping quiet or misreading the signs. I might be a slow learner, but I'm learning.

"I won't be a problem anymore," I state, my voice heavy with defeat as I look up at the Irishman who beat me far too easily. "You two can live your lives in peace. Let me go, and I'll leave. Right now. Tonight. I swear you'll never see me again."

"How noble of you," he sneers. "But that doesn't fix the fact that you nearly broke my nose, you piece of shit."

"Please, Vinny," Mel says behind me, her voice soft and sickeningly enticing.

The sound of his name on her lips is like a stake through the heart. Like it was always meant to be there, a whispered caress that says she'll do anything he wants for a pair of Jimmy Choos.

My blood runs cold when I think about them together. To think of his hands all over her perfect body, using her for whatever twisted pleasures he enjoys. I can see it in his eyes, the insanity. He'll use her up and spit her out. Every precious inch of her.

The idea of Mel selling her soul for a few jewels and a comfy home fills me with agony. I wonder if she knows that he's just as likely to kill her when he gets tired of her five, ten years down the road.

The Kellys are known for that.

Because they don't believe in divorce.

They're proper Irish Catholics.

It's one of the many reasons I left Boston in the first place.

But I can't bring myself to warn Mel. Not when it feels like she's punched a hole through my chest. It took four men trained by the same man who taught me everything I know to restrain me. It took three words from Mel to bring me to my knees.

I let my emotions get the best of me. And now here I am, locked in the hold of two brothers who never beat me on their best day when we were growing up—even if they're years older than I am.

Behind me, she gives a cheeky giggle, breaking the tense silence. "Come on, Vinny. Just think of it as a wedding present to me. I'd rather not watch some guy bleed out on the carpet. Spare me the grizzly visual?"

Vinnyhums his amusement and gestures to my brothers to let me go.

And because he's a Kelly, they do, shoving me roughly forward. My arms scream in protest as I catch myself before my face meets the carpet. Pulse pounding in my head, I climb slowly to my feet, assessing the aftermath of our fight.

The room's a complete disaster.

Blood already stains the plush carpet from Harper's and Hans's injuries. They both scowl at me with renewed hatred as they clasp their open wounds. No love lost between my brothers and me. If they weren't heartless killing machines in the first place, my leaving Boston certainly didn't help our relationship any. And tonight's fight surely sealed the deal.

Fuck them. They're as sick and twisted in the head as my old man, as far as I'm concerned.

I give Vinny a nod of acknowledgment, even as it puts a bitter taste in my mouth.

And though it feels like walking barefoot across broken glass, I keep my gaze fixed in front of me as I stalk toward the door. Never looking back.

I can't let myself take one last glance.

Because I know my weakness.

And if I see Mel standing in that glass cage right now, it will surely break me.

I can't look into her fathomless onyx eyes and wonder if I'm failing her.

If I'm losing her.

She was never mine to lose in the first place.

Wrenching open the ravaged door to my private room, I storm down the hall toward the emergency exit of Pearl's. I fling it open and step out into the brisk night air. It feels good to have the cold breeze bring me back to reality. The dark night reminding me of where I belong.

Vik stands to my left, guarding the side entrance where Mel came and went from, and he scowls as soon as he sees me exit. "Why is it I keep finding you where you don't belong?" he demands, stepping toward me with an air of warning.

I wish I still had my knives on me because, right about now, I'm ready to stab someone. Lucky for him, I left in too big a hurry. So they're still inside that private room I never should have entered. I'll cut my losses and consider myself lucky.

I dodged more than one bullet tonight.

"Fuck off, Vik. I'm leaving," I snarl, shoving past him.

He turns to watch me go, cussing me out in Russian all the way.

When I round the corner of Pearl's, I find my black Triumph Daytona sitting on the curb, waiting for me. Slinging my leg over the bike, I settle it between my thighs, flick up the kickstand, and dig in my pocket for my cell phone.

Sascha answers on the first ring this time. "You dead, or what?" he asks, his tone flat with sarcasm.

"Or what," I answer darkly.

"So, the girl's not coming with us?"

"No."

A long silence stretches over the phone, Sascha's dry humor needing no words to say, I told you so. "You want to talk about it?" he asks after a beat.

"I'd rather kill something right about now, so can we just drop it? Let's get on the road."

"Right. I'll meet you in the parking lot by Fenway. You know the spot." Sascha hangs up without confirmation.

Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I rev the motor of my sportbike and take one last look down the dark alley beside Pearl's.

I know she's not coming.

She made her choice.

But that doesn't make the pain any more tolerable.