Yearning for Her

Chapter Three

Ava's POV

"I don't want to hurt Ava, too. But I will if it will help you to survive.”

Though the words come out chilly, I realize they are not a threat. Though Killian is not the kind to toss empty threats about, it does not stop the chill running down my spine. Standing on opposite sides of the room, split by more than just a few feet of distance, the air between us buzzes with conflict. It reminds me of an ocean, a whole universe of unheard words and broken pledges.

Every pulse in my chest reminds me of what is at risk; my heart thunders.

"You already hurt me, Killian," I murmured, my voice like a whisper. "In ways I am unable to even start to articulate. One cannot simply waltz back into my life and hope everything will be fine.”

His face gets tense; the shame flickers in his eyes before he hides it with his customary icy indifference. "I didn't come back to hurt you, Ava; I realize I made mistakes. I came back to save you.”

With hands closed at my sides, I forward. "Save me? Killian, from what? Out of the mess you produced? From the lies you have been feeding me all this lifetime?”

His jaw closes, and for a second I see the wall he constructed around himself starting to crack. I actually never stopped loving him. Part of me still hurts for the man I believed he was, even after all the treachery and everything else that has happened.

That does not change the truth that I mistrust him nonetheless. Not anymore.

"I never meant for it to happen like this," he continues, his voice low and strained. "I didn't ask for any of these, Ava. You really have to believe me.”

I fight the tears that try to pour by shaking my head. "I find it difficult to believe now."

Every bit of me longs to reach out and touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin against mine, to recall how it felt when everything was easy and we were simply two people in love. But I'm not able to. Not when lies, secrets, and treachery contaminate every recollection of him now.

"Why did you leave, Killian?" Raw and hurting, the question spills out before I can stop it. I have to get the truth. "What was so vital that you had to leave everything behind?"

His eyes flutter with something I cannot quite understand, but it passed before I could make sense of it. “I left to protect you.” Though his voice has an edge of doubt, his words are strong.

"Protect me." I say again, incredulity tinging my voice. “You left me with only a broken heart and a lifetime of unresolved questions. In what ways is that protecting me?”

Though I can see the suffering in his eyes, I no longer give a damn. I have nothing to care about. Not when the man in front of me differs greatly from the one I used to know; the man I adored. This is the man who split my universe apart.

"Ava..." His voice softens, and for the shortest of times I believe he will be moving toward me. Nevertheless, he does not. Rather, he freezes, as a man accepting his fate.

“You believe you could just stroll in here and make things right? Like nothing had happened?” I snap and my voice gets angry. "Do you even know what you have done to me?"

Killian doesn't hesitate. Quietly, he continues, "I didn't come back to fix everything," his eyes fixed nowhere. "I returned because, Ava, I needed you. I have always depended on you. And this mess; it is not just mine. That is ours.”

I shook my head and laughed angrily. "Ours? Killian, you are not here to make it ours anymore. That was given up the instant you turned away.”

Between us, a quiet dense and oppressive spread. The weight of the words hanging in the air—the gravity of what has been lost—breaks through. As I struggle to keep the tears at distance, my chest gets constricted.

With a harsh voice, "Ava, please," he asks. "You are not the only one suffering here.”

I say nothing. What is the point? The hurt does not change anything. not anymore.

His voice rough with desperation, he says, "I came back because I need your help. Ava, there is danger here; a menace more than one of us could ever pose”

I cannot dispute the draw between us. With all that has transpired, even now, I can still sense the flutter of something—something hazardous, something that appeals to me. I despise it. That my heart still beats for him bothers me. But I am not trusting him once more. Not after these events.

"I'm not getting involved in your mess, Killian," I respond, my voice firm even though the war inside me is raging. I have had enough.

But then he approaches just a trifle, and I sense the heat of his presence as if it were an electric charge hovering above. His voice low and sincere, "I'm not asking you to get involved in my mess, Ava," he continues. "I'm asking you to save us both."

The words hang in the air between us, weighted with all the unspoken. For a single second, I forget all—the lies, the treachery, the suffering—and experience something I haven't felt in so long—Desire.

I hear a subdued click. I halt; in my chest my heart stumbles.

"What was that?" I whisper, my voice hardly heard.

Killian's eyes hardened, and before I could respond he advanced faster than I could follow, dragging me behind him, his body protecting mine.

"Stay down," he says, his voice low and urgent. “Go to the back door. Now!”

As I battle to keep my feet, my mind racing, I can feel the chilly grip of anxiety rising in my throat.

This is not the time for questions; not the time to stop and think either.

I go toward the back of the room as directed, but the door smashes open before I get to it.

Unreadable on their faces, a group of masked guys charges into the room with lifted rifles pointed toward Killian.

One of them replies, his voice tinged with resentment, "You should've stayed out of this, Cross."

My pulse picks up surges. My breath freezes in my throat as I understand—this is not chance.

Killian is not only a guy in danger. He is the objective. And just now, so am I.

"Go, Ava!" Killian yells and pushes me toward the door. Runs!

One of the men steps forward, though, obstructing my path before I can get going. "Not so fast, sweetheart," he says, his hand clenching around my arm.

I gasp, struggling to free, but his hold is relentless.

"You are nowhere at all."

And thus, every bit of power I knew falls through my fingers.

"Let go of me!." I struggle against the man's tight grip, gasping. As I fight to free from his grasp, my heart thumps in my chest, each pulse more frenzied than the next. But he pulls me back, dragging me away from the door, away from the safety just within grasp, his fingers like steel.

I glance over my shoulder at Killian, who is facing down the line of men, his posture unwavering in face of peril. He is delaying, but I know it is only a matter of time before they close.

"Ava, leave this place!!" His voice is keen and desperate. Still, he seems to be in a weird calm, as though he already knows what might happen. “Don't turn around. Go!”

I open my lips to object, but the man carrying me draws me in against him, the icy barrel of a revolver squeezing into my side. He sneers, "I said you're not going anywhere," with hot, foul breath against my ear. "Not unless we state otherwise."

My mind racing, terror claws at my insides as I battle to remain cool. Killian's eyes fix on mine, and for a split second everything fades. Like the world we live in, it seems as though nothing else counts; it seems as though just me and him exist. I want to think he can pull us out of this. I want to hope he will somehow save us.

But I understand precisely how far this rabbit hole stretches at that instant as the group of men gets closer.

The man hisses in my ear, clenching his hold, "No one's coming for you, sweetheart."

"You believe you have control?" I back off, my words coming out more boldly than I feel. "You have no idea with whom you are dealing.”

The man laughs softly and scornfully. "You are simply a pawn, Ava. Nobody is showing up to save you. Except for him, maybe none else exists. Cross used to be someone else, though.”

A cold rushes down my back. “What the hell is that meant to imply? What are you speaking of?" I demand, trying to escape.

"You'll find out soon enough," he adds with a chilly, knowing smile that shakes me. By then, though, it will be too late.

All of a sudden the air changes. Noise emanates from behind me, a succession of quick footsteps. Just in time, I turn to watch the door fall open once more—this time, it is not a bunch of masked men. I know this person; I never would have imagined seeing again.

A tall man enters the room; their shadow black against the strong light. Their voice shrill and uncompromising, "Let her go," they demand.

Though I cannot identify the voice, my heart pauses the moment I hear it.

"Who the devil are you?," one of the guys sneers, turns around, raises a rifle.

The person moves deliberately and with smoothness; they are not slow. They knock the rifle from the man's grasp and tug something from their jacket in a whirl of motion—a sleek, black gadget I can't quite see.

“You will have to pass through me if you wish for her.”

But the words hang in the air like a challenge, and I realize in that instant everything I thought I knew—everything—has just been thrown into anarchy.