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I sit back, temporarily mollified. Torin holds my gaze. “The Boston Irish planted evidence to keep me inside longer.” A pause. “They'll pay for that. For my captivity and yours.”

I nod. I have to admit, the glint of pure malice in Torin’s gaze, along with his family’s promise of vengeance, is immensely satisfying. I sit taller. Fire burns in my veins.

I matter.

“Why don't we step away for a bit,” Seamus says to the room. “Give them some space.”

“We’ve had plenty of privacy,” I quip, but they all just quietly file out.

And that's how I find myself alone with Torin in a room full of the things his family left behind—half-empty glasses and a fire burning low.

Torin doesn't fill the silence with pleasantries. Neither do I. He sits back in the chair.

I finally decide that I want to speak on my own terms.

“What did you miss?” I ask him. I don't know why I'm quizzing him. “In prison.”

He thinks before he answers. I like that about him. “The ability to move around freely,” he says, leaning forward. His muscles bulge, a reminder of barely contained power. I swallow hard when his gaze flicks to mine. “You?”

I shrug. “Everything. A long, hot bath. My bed. Good food.” I clear my throat. “I’ll get that all back eventually. Right?”

“Of course.” But the look he’s giving me is as if he's taking inventory of something he's still making up his mind about. My skin prickles under it. I don't look away, and I don't know why.

Then Caitlin walks in with a large tray of food, and my stomach rumbles with hunger.

“Christ, that looks good.” His voice turns almost boyish and wistful. “It’s good to see you eating, lass.”

I laugh. “You want me to gain weight?”

“No. I want you to feel safe.” I don’t know how, but I’m getting there.

“You know I didn't trust the food they brought me,” I remind him.

“Smart,” he says quietly. “I wouldn't have either.”

“I ate something the first night they brought me in, and I don't think I woke up for two days.”

He curses under his breath in Gaelic, and his eyes go murderous. “Did they assault you?”

I nod. I don't trust my voice.

“How?”

I swallow.

“I don’t know what they did to me when I was drugged. But you know I was tested for my virginity.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “They wanted to. The first night, one of them came in.” I pause. “He had his hands on me before I could get mine on him. I broke two of his fingers. Got a backhand with his other hand for that, but someone dragged him away before he could hurt me worse. He didn't come back.”

I take a deep breath.

“After that, they were careful. Hands, mostly. When they thought I was asleep. Or when they wanted me to know I couldn't stop them if they decided to.” I look at the table. “I could always stop them. But I let them think otherwise. It was more useful.”

He growls. I remind myself I'm not anything to him.

“Which one?”

I nod again. “Shamrock.”

“Right,” Torin says quietly. A beat passes before he nods toward the board—cheese, crackers, something with honey, and wedges of bread. “Help yourself.”