Mag-log inCillian
I wake up before Elena does. That’s normal now. What isn’t normal is how long I stay still afterward. Just watching her. Morning light spills softly across the penthouse bedroom, painting gold across tangled dark hair and bare skin beneath my sheets. Elena sleeps curled against my chest, one hand resting near my ribs while her breathing brushes warm against my skin.
Peace. The word still feels foreign in my lif
Elena Sophia arrives with three bags of snacks, two bottles of sparkling juice, and the expression of a woman prepared for war. Maya follows behind her, carrying a blanket, a stack of movies, and one very serious-looking box of chocolate.I stare at them from the couch. “What is all this?”Sophia kicks the penthouse door shut with her heel. “Girls’ night.”Maya lifts the blanket proudly. “Non-negotiable.” I blink. Behind them, Liam appears silently, carrying two more grocery bags like he has been taken hostage.Sophia points at him without looking. “He volunteered.”Liam’s face stays blank. “I did not.”“He emotionally volunteered.” She retorts without looking at him.“That’s not a thing.”“It is now.” She says bluntly. A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. It pulls at my ribs a little, but not badly. Still, Cillian appears from his office doorway instantly. “What hurts?”I turn my head slowly toward him. “Nothing.”His eyes narrow. Sophia groans dramatically. “Oh my God, she lau
Cillian The second we walk back into the penthouse, I know I’m fucked. Not because of enemies. Not because of war. Not because the Russians are still somewhere out there waiting to become a problem. Because Elena is still wearing that dress. And she’s looking at me like she knows exactly what she’s doing.The penthouse doors close behind us softly, muting the sounds of the city below while warm golden light spills across marble floors and glass walls. Quiet. Private. Dangerous.Elena steps out of her heels near the entrance with a relieved sigh, one hand catching lightly against the wall for balance. My eyes lock onto the movement instantly. Always watching her now. Always checking. “You okay?”“There’s the voice again.”I shut the door slowly behind us. “Elena.”“I’m fine,” she says with a faint smile. “My feet just hate rich people's events.”A rough breath escapes me. Closest thing to laughter. She watches me carefully after that. Too carefully. Then slowly, deliberately, her eyes
Elena I haven’t worn a dress in weeks. Not since before the kidnapping. Before chains. Before bruises. Before learning how much blood Cillian was capable of spilling for me. The realization hits strangely as I stare at my reflection in the mirror of the penthouse bedroom. I almost don’t recognize myself. Not because I look different. Because I feel different.The woman staring back at me now knows too much. Knows what torture sounds like. Knows how fear tastes. Knows what it feels like to be carried out of hell in the arms of a man covered in blood. And somehow she still loves him.The black dress hugs my body softly, elegant without being overly dramatic, the fabric flowing around my legs while the neckline dips just enough to make heat flash through Cillian’s eyes every time he looks at me.Which has been constantly. I smooth my hands nervously over the material again. “You’re doing that thing.”I glance toward him. Cillian leans against the bedroom doorway, already dressed in a bl
Elena The city glows beneath us. Rain stopped sometime after midnight, leaving the windows of the penthouse streaked with water and gold reflections from the skyline of New York City. Everything feels quieter tonight. Softer. Not safe. I don’t think our lives will ever truly be safe again. But calmer. Like the world finally stopped trying to rip us apart long enough for us to breathe.I sit cross-legged near the end of the bed wearing one of Cillian’s black shirts again, my fingers turning the promise ring slowly beneath the dim bedside lamp. I still can’t stop looking at it. Not because of how expensive it probably is. Because of what it means. Family. Future. His. The thought sends warmth through my chest every single time.The bathroom door opens quietly. My eyes lift instantly. And my breath catches. Cillian walks out shirtless, dark sweatpants hanging low on his hips, tattoos disappearing beneath the waistband, while drops of water still slide slowly down his skin.God. The man
CillianI wake up before Elena does. That’s normal now. What isn’t normal is how long I stay still afterward. Just watching her. Morning light spills softly across the penthouse bedroom, painting gold across tangled dark hair and bare skin beneath my sheets. Elena sleeps curled against my chest, one hand resting near my ribs while her breathing brushes warm against my skin.Peace. The word still feels foreign in my life. Temporary. Dangerous. But real. At least with her. My hand drifts lower unconsciously, settling over her stomach again. Always there now. Protective instinct, I can’t turn off even when I sleep. The doctor says the baby is healthy. Strong.I’ve heard those words three times already this week and somehow still need to hear them again every few hours.Strong. Alive. Mine. The thought hits differently now. Less fear. More obsession. Elena shifts slightly against me with
ElenaThe bruises start fading before the fear does. That’s the strange part. My body heals faster than my mind. The cuts along my ribs are lighter now. The marks around my wrists have turned yellow instead of purple. I can finally walk around the room without feeling dizzy after three steps, and Sophia stopped hovering every time I breathe too hard.Progress. Apparently. But sometimes when I close my eyes too quickly, I still feel chains around my wrists. Sometimes I still wake up panicking because I think concrete walls are closing around me again. And every single time, Cillian is there. Always.I wake up tangled against his chest more often now than not, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist, one hand resting over my stomach like even asleep, he needs to reassure himself we’re both still alive.It does something dangerous to my heart. Makes me softer than I should be. Makes me believe impo
CillianI should stop. That thought is there. Clear. Sharp. Unavoidable. And I ignore it completely.My hand is still wrapped around her neck when she tries to pull away, her breath uneven, her lips still parted from the last kiss, her eyes flashing like she’s trying to gather herself back together
ElenaI don’t remember walking. I don’t remember leaving the dining room. All I remember is him. His hands. His mouth. The way everything inside me stopped making sense the second he pulled me against him like I belonged there.The world blurs around us as he carries me. My arms are still wrapped a
CillianI hear them before I see them. Heavy steps. Controlled. Familiar. Declan and Liam don’t enter a room quietly, not because they can’t, but because they don’t need to. Their presence speaks before they do. It always has. It always will.Ronan, on the other hand, is already grinning like a fuc
ElenaI don’t sleep. Not really.I close my eyes at some point, my body eventually giving in to exhaustion, but my mind never fully shuts off. Every sound feels too loud, every shift of light through the windows pulling me back to awareness like something is about to happen. I wake before I even kn







