Chapter 3: Did you cry for me?
Catherine stared at the man before her, her heart hammering against her ribs. The dim light accentuated the sharpness of his features, but it wasn’t just time that had etched the harshness into his face—it was something far darker. His scarred eye felt like a warning that this man wasn’t the same Kieran she’d once known.
And yet, it was him.
Her lips parted, but no words came out. Every breath felt like a struggle as she tried to reconcile the man standing before her with the one she’d loved so deeply in the past. His once warm, protective gaze was now piercing and cold, devoid of the tenderness she remembered.
“Kieran,” she whispered again, her voice barely audible.
He didn’t move. His broad shoulders were rigid, his jaw set. The silence stretched between them, suffocating.
“Is it really you?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
His lips twisted into something resembling a smirk, but there was no humor in it. “You sound surprised.”
Her legs threatened to give way beneath her, and she sank back onto the edge of the cot she’d been sitting on. “You were dead.”
“Dead?” he repeated, his tone bitter. “Not quite.”
Her eyes widened, the weight of his words settling over her. “You betrayed us. You sold us out to the Valentes. That’s why…” Her voice faltered as she recalled the night he’d disappeared.
“That’s why I was ambushed,” he finished for her, his voice razor-sharp. He stepped closer, his presence suffocating. “And what did you do, Catherine? Did you cry for me? Did you apologize to your daddy for fucking your bodyguard and promised to walk the line?”
Her throat tightened, and she looked away.
His laugh was cold and humorless. “Of course, you did. That’s what good daughters do, isn’t it? Obey their father without question…”
The venom in his voice stung, and her head snapped up. “That’s not fair,” she shot back, though her voice wavered.
“Fair?” His voice rose, and he took another step closer, his scarred eye glinting in the faint light. “Was it fair when they handed me over to the Valentes like a sacrificial lamb? Was it fair when I was left to die?”
Her lips trembled as tears welled in her eyes. “Kieran, I didn’t know—”
“Stop,” he cut her off, his tone sharp enough to slice through steel. “Save your tears for someone who cares.”
His words struck her like a physical blow, and she recoiled. The room spun as she tried to process what he was saying, but all she could feel was the ache in her chest, a dull, throbbing pain that threatened to consume her.
She wanted to scream, to tell him he was wrong, that she’d never stopped mourning him. But as she looked into his cold, unfeeling eyes, she wondered if the Kieran she’d loved truly was gone.
Five years ago…
Kieran glanced at his phone, re-reading the message that had summoned him here. It was short, cryptic, but supposedly urgent.
They’re coming for Catherine. You need to stop them.
The Santoros had enemies everywhere. Kieran’s instincts told him to keep Catherine close, to protect her at all costs, but he couldn’t ignore the warning. If there was even a chance she was in danger, he had to act. He made her go back inside the house and drew his gun.
The first shot came out of nowhere.
It grazed his shoulder, and he spun around, his gun drawn in an instant. Shadows moved in the periphery, and he realized too late that he was surrounded.
“Drop it,” a voice barked from the darkness.
Kieran’s grip on his weapon tightened. “Not a chance.”
Another shot rang out, this one hitting the ground near his feet.
Slowly, he lowered his gun, his jaw clenched. Three men emerged from the shadows, their faces obscured by masks, their weapons trained on him.
“What’s this about?” he demanded, his voice low and steady despite the chaos inside him.
One of the men stepped forward. “The Santoros don’t need you anymore, Karakatsanis. Consider this your severance package.”
Kieran’s blood ran cold as the realization hit him. This wasn’t just an ambush—it was a betrayal.
Before he could respond, one of the men struck him from behind, and everything went black.
When he woke, his body ached, and his vision blurred. He was in a dark room, bound and bleeding. The faint hum of voices reached his ears, but he couldn’t make out the words.
“Is this him?”
“Yes. Kieran Karakatsanis, Santoro’s loyal dog.”
The voice was unfamiliar, but the malice in it was unmistakable.
“You’re in Valente territory now,” the man continued, his tone dripping with contempt. “Your boss sold you out, and now you’re ours.”
Kieran’s mind raced, his thoughts splintering between anger and despair. Sold out? It didn’t make sense. The Santoros were like family to him—Catherine was his family.
No. He couldn’t believe it. There had to be a mistake.
But as the days turned into weeks, and the torture became routine, the truth became undeniable. The Santoros had betrayed him. The girl he’d given everything to was gone, unreachable.
Kieran’s heart hardened with each passing day, his resolve growing stronger. He would survive this. He would rise above it. And one day, he would make them pay.
Present day
“Get up,” Kieran ordered, his voice sharp and unrelenting.
She flinched, her fear spiking as she struggled to her feet, her legs weak beneath her. He was close now, too close. She could feel the heat of his body behind her, his presence pressing down on her like a weight she couldn’t escape.
“Please,” she choked, daring to glance at him.
His lips twisted into a humorless smile. “Shut up, princess.”
Her breath hitched. “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his towering frame enveloping hers, his hand reaching out to grip her chin. His touch wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t cruel either—it was firm, commanding. He tilted her face upward, forcing her teary eyes to meet his.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” he said, his voice low, rough, and filled with a cold kind of rage.
She shuddered beneath his grip, her fear mingling with something she couldn’t name. His eyes—so familiar yet so foreign—burned into hers, full of unspoken fury and something darker.
“Kieran,” she whispered again, testing the name, hoping to find a trace of the man she’d once loved. “If you’re still you, the man I…”
He let out a bitter laugh, releasing her abruptly, and she stumbled back a step. “Don’t say my name like that,” he growled. “Not after what you did.”
Catherine froze, his words slicing through her like a blade. “What are you talking about?”
Kieran leaned in again, his breath brushing against her ear. “Your father betrayed me,” he said, his tone laced with venom. “He left me for dead. All because you sold me out. For what? Another mansion? A new jet? Whatever your daddy gave you for betraying me, I hope it was worth it.”
Her stomach twisted violently. “No... no, I didn’t—”
“You didn’t what?” he interrupted, his voice rising slightly, sharp and accusatory. “You didn’t sell me out? Didn’t stand by while your father put a target on my back?”
Catherine shook her head vehemently, her tears spilling anew. “I didn’t know! I didn’t—”
His hand shot out again, gripping her wrist this time, silencing her with his touch. The intensity in his eyes made her breath catch, the proximity of his body leaving her overwhelmed and conflicted.
“You’ll say anything to save yourself, won’t you?” he murmured, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
“I’m telling the truth,” she insisted, her voice trembling.
Kieran’s gaze lingered on her face, his jaw tight as if waging an internal war. Then his lips curled into a cold, dangerous smile. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Truth, lies—it’s all the same. You’re mine now, Catherine. And you’ll stay mine until I’ve made your father pay for every single thing he’s done.”
Her knees threatened to give way beneath her as his words settled over her like a death sentence. “You can’t do this,” she whispered, her voice weak, barely audible.
“Oh, I can,” he replied, his tone almost mocking. “And I will.”
The room spun around her, her fear suffocating as he dragged her forward, his grip unyielding. Despite the chill in his demeanor, his touch sent an unwanted jolt through her—a twisted, traitorous reaction to the proximity of the man who had once held her so tenderly.
But this wasn’t that man.
As they reached the exit, she finally found her voice again. “Kieran, please… you don’t have to do this.”
He stopped abruptly, turning to face her, his face inches from hers. His eyes burned with rage, but beneath the surface, she thought she saw a flicker of something else—something broken, wounded.
“Don’t beg me, Catherine,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “I’m not the man you remember. That man died five years ago. And if you think you can change anything… You’re wrong.”
Her heart ached at his words, but fear quickly overshadowed any other emotion as he opened the door to a waiting car. She wanted to run, to scream, but there was no escape. Not from him.
Kieran gestured for her to get inside, his expression cold. When she hesitated, he leaned in close, his voice a quiet warning. “Do as you’re told, Catherine. I’m not in the mood to play games. Not right now, at least.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks as she obeyed, sliding into the car. As the door slammed shut behind her, she glanced out the window at the dark mansion looming in the distance.
Whatever awaited her inside, she knew one thing for certain: the Kieran she had loved was gone, and this man—the ruthless, merciless ghost of him—was all that remained.