“WHY DOES everyone keep deciding for me?”
Lily’s voice cracked through the sitting room like glass snapping under pressure.
Ronan stood near the fireplace, arms crossed, his shoulders rigid beneath his leather cut. The fire behind him cast restless shadows across his face, sharpening the lines of tension that had not left since Jeremiah had been thrown out of the house.
“You are not listening,” Ronan said. His tone was firm, controlled, but Lily knew him well enough to hear the fear underneath. “I am trying to keep you alive.”
Lily laughed once, sharp and humorless. “By locking me down like a child?”
Ronan turned toward her fully now. “By keeping you away from men who drag danger to your feet.”
Her hands curled at her sides. “You mean Jeremiah.”
Ronan did not deny it. “Yes. Jeremiah
