Oh to be loved

13

Hours passed in the cold, dim cellar as Amara sat by Malik's side, her fingers tracing the edge of the bandages wrapped around his torso. The blood had stopped seeping through the cloth, and the doctor Cillian had summoned-a stern, middle-aged man with cold hands and an even colder demeanor-had assured her Malik would recover, though slowly.

But Malik wasn't safe. Not here, not in this place under Cillian's control. And neither was she.

As her brother drifted in and out of sleep, weakened but breathing steadily, Amara's thoughts spiraled. Cillian's conditions had left her trapped in a moral web. She had agreed, for now, to cooperate in exchange for Malik's care. But every fiber of her being rebelled against the idea of yielding to Cillian's control. She couldn't trust him, not fully-not ever. But how long could she hold out? How long before she found herself pulled deeper into his world?

Her mind was already spinning with thoughts of escape. Malik would need to be strong enough to walk. She'd have to find a way out of the mansion, maybe through one of the less-guarded wings. But every idea seemed like a risk-a gamble with too many unknowns. Cillian was always a step ahead, watching her every move, reading her like a book.

The heavy wooden door creaked open, pulling her from her thoughts. Cillian stepped inside, his presence dominating the small, cold room. He was dressed in his usual dark suit, the very image of controlled power. His eyes flicked to Malik, who was still unconscious, then back to Amara.

"You've had time with your brother," Cillian said, his voice smooth but carrying an edge. "Now it's time for us to talk."

Amara's stomach twisted. "What more is there to say?"

Cillian raised an eyebrow, as if her question amused him. "I told you we had a deal. I've upheld my end of it. Now it's your turn."

Amara stood from her spot beside Malik, crossing her arms defensively. "I'm not going to try to escape. But don't think for a second that I'm okay with this. I'm only doing this for him."

Cillian's eyes darkened, but his expression remained calm. "You still think you have a choice, don't you?"

Amara's heart raced as he stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking with every slow, deliberate step. His presence felt suffocating, and yet, there was a magnetic pull that unsettled her-an undercurrent of tension she couldn't quite explain. It was fear, but it was also something else, something more dangerous.

"I always have a choice," she said, her voice firm despite the tremor in her chest.

Cillian stopped inches from her, his eyes cold and calculating as they bore into hers. "No, you don't. Not here."

He reached out, his hand brushing her cheek, and Amara flinched. His touch was soft, almost gentle, but it made her skin crawl. She wanted to pull away, but she held her ground, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her recoil.

"I told you I wouldn't hurt you, Amara," Cillian murmured, his fingers trailing down her cheek before falling back to his side. "But defiance has consequences."

Amara's breath hitched, but she forced herself to keep her voice steady. "I'm not defying you. I'm surviving. There's a difference."

Cillian's gaze hardened for a moment, his jaw clenching as if her words struck something deep within him. Then, just as quickly, his expression softened again into that unnerving calm.

"You'll learn in time," he said quietly. "But for now, I need your cooperation. Completely. No more half measures."

Amara's fists clenched at her sides. "What do you want from me, Cillian? You've already taken everything. What more could you possibly need?"

Cillian's eyes flicked back to Malik before returning to her. His voice, when he spoke again, was softer, but no less dangerous. "I need your loyalty. I need you to stop fighting me. Stop looking for ways out. If you do that, I can protect you both."

"Protect us?" Amara repeated, incredulous. "From what? You're the one we need protection from."

A flicker of something-anger, maybe frustration-passed through Cillian's eyes, but he quickly masked it. "There are forces at play that you don't understand, Amara. I'm not the only threat you should be worried about."

Amara frowned, confusion knitting her brow. "What are you talking about?"

Cillian studied her for a moment, as if weighing how much to reveal. Then he let out a quiet sigh, his gaze distant for the first time since she'd known him. "The Irish mob isn't a single entity. There are factions. Rivalries. I have enemies-people who wouldn't hesitate to use you or Malik as leverage to get to me."

Amara blinked, caught off guard by his words. Was this another manipulation, or was there truth in what he was saying? She knew little of the intricacies of Cillian's world, but she'd seen enough to know it was dangerous-far more dangerous than anything she had ever experienced before.

"And you think you're the solution to that?" she asked, skepticism lacing her voice. "You're the reason we're in danger in the first place."

Cillian's jaw tightened. "I never said I was innocent. But if you try to leave, if you defy me... others will come for you. They won't be as forgiving as I am."

Amara's breath caught. For a moment, she saw something behind his calm mask-a flicker of genuine concern, maybe even fear. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual cold control.

"Forgiving?" she scoffed, trying to push past the growing unease in her chest. "You call this forgiveness?"

Cillian's gaze hardened again, his patience clearly wearing thin. "You're alive, aren't you? So is Malik. That's more than some would offer."

Amara didn't respond. She couldn't. Because deep down, she knew he was right. As much as she hated him, as much as she wanted to deny it, Cillian was the only thing standing between her and something worse-something far more brutal than his controlled manipulation.

But that didn't mean she would give in. Not completely.

She straightened, lifting her chin in defiance. "I'll cooperate," she said finally, her voice steady. "But only for Malik. Don't expect me to trust you."

Cillian's lips curved into a small, humorless smile. "I don't need your trust, Amara. I just need your obedience."

The words sent a chill through her, but she didn't flinch. She couldn't afford to show weakness. Not now.

Cillian turned toward the door, but before leaving, he glanced back at her, his eyes darker than before. "You'll have more freedom in the house now. I'll allow you to see Malik whenever you like. But don't mistake that for leniency. This is still my world, and you still belong to me."

Amara's chest tightened, her hands trembling at her sides. "I don't belong to anyone."

Cillian's smile didn't reach his eyes. "We'll see."

He left the room, the heavy door closing behind him with a soft click, leaving Amara standing in the cold silence.

Her mind whirled with questions, fear, and anger. What was Cillian hiding from her? Who were these enemies he spoke of? And more importantly, how long could she play this dangerous game before it consumed her completely?

She looked back at Malik, his chest rising and falling slowly, his breathing still labored but steady. For now, that was all that mattered. She would play along-she would do whatever it took to keep him safe.

But she wasn't done fighting. Not by a long shot.

Cillian may have control over her world for now, but Amara knew that no prison, no matter how gilded, was impenetrable.

And she would find a way out.