The Insiders by Tijan

FIFTY-SEVEN

Everything happened as Kash had warned me.

Chrissy fussed.

Torie was my guard dog, complete with her own drool.

Matthew couldn’t sit still. He kept going in circles around the room.

Peter was a mess. He was sniping at Matt, then bickering with Chrissy, then asking Kash questions in a serious voice. He’d stop, stare at me, and his mouth would tremble before he’d bark something at Matt and the cycle would start around again.

The detectives were nice. I’d expected gruff and impatient, but the session with them was just long. The lawyers intervened at times, but not much. Everyone wanted the same thing: to make sure Quinn paid for what she did.

Quinn. Man.

Over the next two weeks, I didn’t really let myself think of her.

The day the detectives finally got my statement, once I wasn’t a blubbering mess, I stuck to the facts. If they needed more detail, I gave it to them. They were surprised at how much I did remember, until Peter said I had his photographic memory. Their eyes got big, and I swear their ears perked up after that. That just meant more questions, though, and it was a long time later that night when they finally left.

Kash told me the next day that my father had found enough damning evidence—text messages, emails Quinn thought she’d deleted, burner phones, fake accounts, and so much more—to put the picture together. Piecing it together with what she’d said to me, it turned out that Quinn thought Peter had always been in love with my mother, even back then despite what she said to me. She thought her days were numbered if Chrissy or I came back into his life, and she was desperate enough to reach out and then hire the Arcane team.

Peter confessed that he might have exaggerated his fondness for Chrissy when he talked to Quinn about the past. He didn’t elaborate on why he did this, or if it was true presently or not, and when I asked Chrissy what she thought, I was given a pat on the arm and told that I needed rest.

That’s the answer I had gotten for most things over the last two weeks.

In that time, a therapist came to Kash’s new loft, which is where we were the first night I woke after the attack. He had moved out of his last place because the media knew his address, so this one was more secret. Even I didn’t know where we were, because I hadn’t left his place. Not once.

Everyone agreed that I should take my time, rest, seek counseling for almost being kidnapped and then finding out that they were going to kill me, but the truth is that I was hiding. I was late in starting graduate school. Kash said the school understood and gave me an extension. If I couldn’t start before midterms, then I’d have to wait for the second semester. That was their final timeline.

I wasn’t doing that. Hell no. Did no one realize how much work I would be behind by that time? Not to mention, who wants to be the student who starts a semester after everyone? No one, that’s who. I know how graduate programs work. You start with a group of students and they become your ride-or-die through projects and speeches. I needed that support, so I waited until my last counseling session to inform the counselor it was my last session.

She blinked at me a moment, crossed her arms over her lap. “Excuse me?”

“It’s time I rejoin the world, starting here. I’m fine. I don’t need any more sessions.”

She sputtered. She protested. She fixed her bun.

None of it mattered.

I wasn’t the scarred girl everyone was treating me as, and while I had indulged and hid away, I knew it was time. Face the day. Feel the sunshine on your face. Smell the coffee. All of those sentiments. I had to get on with my life. Quinn took two weeks from me. I wasn’t letting her take any more, and I really wasn’t as traumatized as everyone thought I was.

Theywere traumatized.

Theywere the ones who saw me being lifted out of that van, who saw all the guys bloodied on the floor. All that pounding I heard when I was drugged? I thought it’d been people running for us. No. The running had already happened. That pounding sound was actual pounding, from Kash.

He said Victoria kept insisting on an emergency, said a water valve had broken in one of the bedrooms. Yeah. Shit liar. Kash stopped halfway to the room and came back for me.

He saw me being put in the van.

He made one radio call, notifying the guards, and then he was on them.

He was an animal, taking on three of them. A guard got there after, helping, but Kash took out the last one. It’d been a sight to see, as Matt told me during one of his visits.

I had seen Kash’s hands since. Took four days for the swelling to go down. Cracked and bruised. I thought they were broken, but he had them looked at. They were fine.

Still. I was traumatized at seeing his hands, but everyone else had been affected by seeing me that night. I was wrapped in a tarp, my breathing already slowing enough that they worried I was dead. It’d been a side effect from the drug Quinn gave me, but it wasn’t one she intended. She wanted me killed later, not by her actual hand, but I had a bad reaction to her drug.

I laughed so hard at that. A bad reaction to the drug that she used so that she could eventually have me killed. No shit, a bad reaction.

No one else thought it was funny, but come on. The whole thing was a bad reaction. But now they were worried about what other drugs I might be allergic to. I just thought a good way to avoid them was to not be drugged again. Solved.

No one thought that was funny, either.

But back to my current obstacle: Kash.

There was no more danger. The Arcane team was going away. No bail. Nothing. They were going to a prison that even other prisons didn’t hear about. And even Kash’s grandfather wasn’t a scare anymore. Why he had been in Chicago and in our area, no one knew. The rumors that he was here were proved wrong by footage of him in New York. It was reported that he had flown to Dubai.

And it wasn’t the counselor. She left, a disapproving pinch to her mouth, but I didn’t care. I shooed her out, thanked her for her services, and shut the door when she started to repeat how she didn’t agree with me.

Like I cared.

What I cared about was seeing Cyclone and Seraphina again, in person. We had FaceTimed together. They both started crying when they saw me, but I cracked a joke. That helped. Seraphina was giggling not long later, and Cyclone was asking me questions about a robot ninja. The rabbit was old news. A woman passed behind them, and I had a slight heart attack. I thought it was Quinn.

Kash said it was their aunt. She had flown in from California to help Chrissy and Marie take care of them. My mother had moved back to the estate, once she realized I didn’t need her doting on me because I just wanted to jump Kash’s bones all the time, which he didn’t let me. He waited until my visible bruises had faded, and only then did he gently move inside of me. It was the most frustrating sex I’d had with him. There was no loss of control. It was as if he was scared he’d hurt me, but him being so tender and loving and restrained was what was hurting me.

I wanted him to growl, do his own firm pounding in me, swear. I wanted him rough and passionate. I hadn’t seen that side of him since before the party. That’s what I needed to move on and get over what happened. I needed him, just him.

So, after kicking the counselor to the curb, I was ready to complete my second task.

Make Kash Lose Control.

I met him at the door when he came home from a meeting.

He stepped inside, and a slight breeze grazed me before he shut the door.

He saw me, then stopped. A grin curved up. “What is this?”

I was standing in the entryway, holding a letter for him.

The air was turning hot again, sizzling. His eyes darkened the farther he got in the letter, until the end, and then he groaned. “Jesus Christ, Bailey.”

I knew what words he’d just read, and my throat was feeling raw.

I could only get a whisper out. “I mean it, every word of it.”

He was shaking his head even as he stepped toward me. “You have no idea.”

I countered with, “I might, actually.”

Another head shake, but another step. “No, you don’t. You don’t know how you looked in that van.”

I wet my lips. “So tell me. You have other things to tell me, too.”

I didn’t even care what he said. I just needed him to talk. And after a moment of silence, I thought he would ignore me. I thought it was like all the other times. He would reach for me, distract me, shut me out. But he didn’t.

He started slow at first, but he talked.

He talked about others. About me. About the event. About the aftermath. About what I should expect. But not about him. He never said a word.

“I can’t.” He looked away, his hands forming fists.

“Yes! You told me you had things to say to me, but you never did. You have to tell me. You have to let me in, too.”

I’d been aching for those words. He had no idea. There was a wall around him. He kept it in place between him and everyone, the world. I needed a peek behind it. I was desperate for it. If he lifted it up, or curled back a corner, I could do the rest. I would do the rest. I’d get in there, be my own Cyclone, and tear the rest of that wall down. I just needed an inch.

So I was going to force an inch now.

Stepping to him, closing the distance, my hand came to his chest. “Let me in, Kash.”

His chest shook under my touch, his breath sucking in, holding, then coming out in a sudden rush. Then he shoved away, turning, giving me his back.

He spoke, but he wouldn’t look at me.

“You want to know how I feel?” he bit out.

Why would he spit those words?

He started, harsh. “I fell in love with you before you even knew me. When your father asked me to watch you. After we found out Arcane was targeting you. It was then, during all of that time that you became mine. You just didn’t know.”

Those words should’ve been said beautifully. They weren’t.

He kept on, “I thought about walking away. I did.” His shoulders bunched under his shirt, stretching the material out. “It’s why I left, once you got to my villa. I had you somewhere safe—or I thought you were safe. I knew that what we were about to head into was going to be bad. It would be bad and there would be nothing I could do to shield you from it. Nothing.” He spun. His face was rigid. His hands in fists. His jaw was clenching. “You want to know what’s been eating me up every fucking night I’m inside of you, every morning when I see you sleeping, every time you send me a text that makes me laugh? Me. I am. I am leading you into a storm, and I will be lucky if you come out even half alive.”

He stepped toward me, his eyes burning and fierce.

“Because I won’t be. Because my grandfather is coming and he will kill me. Maybe not my body, but he will do what he did to my mother. And if you stay with me, stay here, then all that dark shit will come on you, too. I will destroy you. You might not know it. I might not even catch it, not at first. It might be slow, but it’ll be there. It’ll be gradual, until one day you wake up hating me.” His nostrils flared. “That’s what’s going on inside of me, every fucking time I want to tell you that I am completely in love with you.”

He spat it out. “Death. Darkness. Hatred. You stay with me, that’s what will happen to you.”

He stopped, looking down at me. His eyes were black, clouded over.

I reached up without thinking.

I cupped the side of his face.

“The world is already fascinated with you.” Those were my words. More came out. “And whatever comes our way, I will handle it. I’m here. I’m with you. And, my God, Kash. If you try to leave me, I won’t have it. You got that?”

I could speak just as harshly.

He didn’t say anything. Neither did I.

We were glaring at each other.

The room was shrinking in on us, and then the doorbell rang.

Kash cursed, his eyes closing. His head tipped back, but it rang again. And again.

Stalking over, he pressed the button, then went stock-still.

Blood drained from his face.

Every hair on my body stood straight up.

I was standing at the end of the hall, and I stepped toward him, out of instinct. “Kash?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t look at me.

Whoever it was, they’d gotten past the front desk. They were on our floor, just on the other side of our door.

Cursing, he wrenched open the door and faced off against whoever was on the other side.

“Get. Gone!”

Their response was quieter, calmer. “Hello, Kash.” A man. An older man.

Ice ran down my spine. I was moving faster, hurrying to be at his side, because this time Kash needed me. Then Kash was moving. He blocked me, holding me back. He slammed the door shut, engaging all of the locks. He flicked off the security camera feed so I couldn’t see, then hit the buzzer. “Call the police. Now.”

He held me back until we heard the elevator open, close, and travel down.

I stepped away from him, getting a glimpse of what a cornered feral animal might look like. Unease traced through me. They were whispering at me, in the back of my mind, riding down my spine.

I asked, “Who was that?”

He didn’t look me in the eye, but his hand tightened over mine.

“My grandfather.”