Ruthless Reign

Chapter 18

I didn’t know whether Toby and Kate would be there, but I knew I couldn’t go to Hardin and Kaleb’s place right now and I didn’t have anywhere else to go.

I’dbeen ignoring the missed calls and texts from AvaJade and the Crows that started about twenty minutes ago. There still wasn’t anything from Hardin, but I did get a message from Damien as I parked on the street outside the apartment building.

Damien

Kaleb’s out of surgery. Looks like he’s going to make it, but they won’t let us see him yet. Are the Crows driving you back? I want to send my men to escort you in when you cross the territory borderline.

I’malready here.

Ifelt numb. I was so grateful Kaleb was going to pull through that I’d started crying on the spot as I read those words, but it was like someone else was feeling that emotion. Not me. Not really. I was the girl who just beat an unarmed man with a tire iron in his own home and then left before the authorities could arrive.

It’dfelt…good. And terrible.

Real. And fiction.

Powerful. And cowardly for not being able to take his life when he was so willing to take Kaleb’s. Whether he ‘missed on purpose’ or not. How the hell could I believe that bullshit?

Stopthinking about it.

Itook the stairs up to the top of the building, slugging through every step on dead legs. I didn’t want to see anyone. Didn’t want to speak.

Please don’t be home,I repeated the words like a mantra as I dug through my purse for my keys.

Ijust needed a fucking minute.

Ajoint from Toby’s stash that I would replace asap. A hot shower to bring life back into my numb limbs. And then I’d go to the hospital. They weren’t letting anyone in to see Kaleb yet anyway and I doubted he’d be awake for hours.

Itotally wasn’t avoiding seeing Hardin.

Whatcould I even say to him?

Howcould I explain myself in a way that he would understand?

Ina way that Iwould even understand?

Thosewere shower thought problems. Joint first, then I would think.

Ihalf expected the door to be unlocked—both Toby and Kate were notorious for forgetting to lock it—but the handle stuck under my fingers and I sighed, relieved they’d heeded the warnings from Hardin and Kaleb about being extra cautious.

Inside, it was dark and quiet as I stepped in. Even though dawn had broken on the drive over, they had all the blinds flipped to block out the light save for the sliver of bright orange sunlight where one of the slats was missing.

“Shit!” I cursed, bending over to calm my nervous system as the spike in my pulse had the black spots clawing back. “Fuck, Tobes. You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing sitting there in the dark?”

Istood back up and tossed my purse and keys on the counter, going into the kitchen to get some water. Trying to play it cool. Like shit hadn’t imploded over the last twenty-four hours. Everything was fine. Don’t cry, I internally berated myself as my eyes burned. Don’t you dare fucking cry or you won’t be able to stop.

Atleast he wasn’t rushing over to hug me. That would make it harder to keep my shit together.

Isniffled, opening the cupboard to find a glass. “Were you out late last night or something?”

Tobyrose to his feet slowly and that perfect bar of orange light stole over his eyes. Eyes that didn’t match. One looked devoid of color entirely while the other stood out in bold near-black contrast. They watched me with a wicked curiosity and I knew…

Iwasn’t sure how I knew but this was him.

Theleader of the Sons of O’Sullivan.

Inmy fucking living room.

Wherewas Toby? Kate?

Thetaste of bile filled my mouth as my stomach filled with the burn of acid, dropping out through my toes. Sweat crept over my shoulders like frost, dripped down my back like ice water.

“Becca. Isn’t it?” he asked, cocking his head to one side. “It’s about time, love. I’ve been here nearly an hour. Was starting to think you might not show after leaving my son’s little place down the way.”

Myteeth clenched behind my lips, fear and fury warring against one another for dominance as I shook.

You.

Hewas the reason Kaleb was in the hospital. The man who killed Damien’s best friend and had everyone within a hundred mile radius under his poisonous thumb.

“What are you doing here?”

Ihardly recognized my own voice. The rage in it. I could have choked on it. I was surprised it didn’t suffocate me as I curled my hands into fists, remembering the gun in my purse.

Tothe right of the sink. One long step away.

Onestep, one click of the safety, and one press of the trigger and I could erase this stain off the face of the earth. I could end this. I just couldn’t miss.

Ididn’t want to think about what would happen if I did.

“I came for a chat, that’s all.”

Achat?

Keephim talking, Becks.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

Igrabbed a glass out of the cupboard and turned to the sink, running the tap to fill it with water. It went against every instinct in my body to turn my back on him, but I needed him to think I wasn’t afraid. That his presence didn’t faze me.

Spinningback around, I leaned on the counter, sipping the cool liquid as I placed my hand next to my purse.

“A few questions, and then I’ll be out of your hair. It’ll be much easier if you give me what I’m looking for.”

Ididn’t want to know what the hard way looked like.

Inodded. “Fine. Get it over with.”

Whywas it so fucking dark in here? My eyes were adjusting to the dimness, but it would make aiming that much harder.

“First, I must ask what you were doing at my son’s house. It seems you went in with a weapon. And shortly after you left, a paramedic arrived.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He’s close. Barely fifteen feet away.

Itwould be harder to miss than it would be to hit him.

Icleared my throat, slipping my hand closer to my bag. “He shot Kaleb.”

“Ah. Yes. On my order. Actually, it was you I’d been hoping to take from Damien but my men weren’t able to get their hands on you. The younger St. Vincent son was a secondary choice, but a good alternative considering.”

Ichoked on his admission. Me. It should’ve been me.

Ifthey’d just let me go with them, it would’ve been.

WouldAodhán have shot me at his father’s command, too?

Icould see the sleek metal barrel of my gun.

Justa few more inches.

“Too bad he isn’t dead yet,” Séamas said with false sincerity and I moved, his words a vicious whip against my hesitation.

Ireached for the gun, drawing it out in one quick motion, clicking off the safety, aiming?—

Buthe wasn’t in the living room.

Mylegs went out from under me and the gun was wrenched from my grip as I went down, my back hitting the tile floor hard with his weight atop me. I gasped as every ounce of air was knocked from my lungs. I hiccupped, taking tiny sips of precious oxygen as my ears rang and my vision swam.

“I only wanted to talk, little Saint,” Séamas hissed at me through his teeth, his eyes wide and focused with the sort of intent only a madman could possess as he lifted me.

“This could’ve been easy,” he grunted, dragging me into the small dining area. I kicked, but with lungs still fighting for air and my head pounding and ears ringing it was like fighting through sensory deprivation, and I didn’t catch a full breath until my ass hit the hard wood of a dining chair.

Iswung out with a closed fist, and he caught it with ease, wrenching it behind my back.

Icried out at the harsh burn in my shoulder but it was the cinching of thin, hard plastic around my wrist that threw me into a real panic.

“Get off me,” I shouted, kicking against him. He coughed when my heeled shoe connected with his stomach and a sharp crack rang in my ears before I felt the sting on the side of my cheek. Tasted the tang of blood on my tongue.

Everythingwas dark and faraway for what felt like only a second and when I came back, the sting in my cheek ached like a motherfucker.

Fuckingow.

Mymouth tasted like death.

Mypulse skyrocketed when I went to feel the wound there and couldn’t move my hands. Either of them. Or my feet. My limbs fought against the zip ties binding them to the chair back and chair legs, but I couldn’t get them free and struggling only made the plastic bite into my wrists and ankles until I felt the skin tear.

“There’s really no sense in struggling,” Séamas said calmly and I whipped my head up, panting, to find him seated in a matching chair, unbound, so close that I pressed my spine flat against the back of my chair to put more distance between us.

“Now, are you going to be a good little Saint and give me what I came for or shall I carve it out of you?”

Hetwisted a blade between his fingers, grinning at me.

Mythroat went dry, watching the light flicker off the sharp edge with every rotation.

He’s going to kill you,I thought. Whether you give him whatever information he wants or not, he’s going to kill you.

IfI screamed, would someone hear me? Send help?

Iswallowed hard and inhaled deeply, ready to let out the loudest siren scream I’d ever let pass my lips, but Séamas’ hand clamped around my throat, squeezing off the sound. My air. Everything.

Hesqueezed hard enough to bruise until I saw stars, allowing me only enough air to remain conscious as I twisted against his hold, futile trying to escape.

“This visit is purely transactional. Damien has already been punished for his disobedience. I’m a fair man, MissHart. If you give me what I came for, I won’t harm you. At least not today. IfDamien makes another mistake,” he shrugged. “Well, I make no promises.”

Don’tbelieve him.

Hereleased me, and I coughed, my throat aching.

“Now, I’m going to need you to tell me what you know about Gilligan’sFinch.”

Mybrows drew together and Séamas didn’t miss my confusion, his rotations of the blade between his fingers stopped.

Gilligan’sFinch.

Noone knew I was there. Aodhán made sure of it.

“Why would I know anything about that?”

Theblade snapped out so fast I didn’t have time to react before it sliced along my right cheekbone. I barely felt it at first, until the warmth of my own blood started to drip down to my chin and the sting of the air on the fresh cut made me suck air in through my teeth.

Séamaslifted the blade into the slant of sunlight, watching it drip down the gleaming silver edge like he thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“You see, little Saint, I find it difficult to believe it a coincidence that all in one night?—”

Heheld up a finger.

“I learned two of my men were stealing from me.”

Heheld up a second digit.

“My son played judge, jury, and executioner, killing them both before I gave him the order.”

Heheld up a third.

“And when he went to collect the payment that was due from the Kents later that same evening, the sad little pub had gone up in smoke…with every Kent still inside.”

Hedropped his hand, leaning over his knees conspiratorially.

“WhatI find even stranger,” he whispered. “Is that the graves my son dug for my men were empty.”

Hewaited for me to fill in the blanks for him, but I wasn’t there.

Hehad to believe I wasn’t ever there.

“If you think it was the Saints, you should’ve tied one of them to a chair to interrogate. I don’t know shit.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” he crooned, reaching across the gap between us to run the flat edge of the blade down my cheek. I recoiled back, but when the tip reached my chin, he used the sharp point to lift it back to face him. “Iknow the Saints were involved. You’ve said as much with your eyes. WhatI’m much more interested in is why my son would lie to me. Andthat, I think you might know something about.”

Myface must’ve betrayed something I’d been trying to keep hidden because his eyes sparked with life, widening infinitesimally before his expression darkened, twisting. The knife sliced cruelly into the tiny cleft in my chin as he withdrew the blade and stood, throwing an angry fist through his hair.

Thenjust as quickly as he stood, he sat back down, drawing the chair closer to me. Close enough to rest his hands on my knees.

Mystomach lurched at his touch.

“I found it odd,” he said, his mismatched eyes tracking across my face, across the floor as he thought through something I was oblivious to. “My son never misses. But my men tell me the St. Vincent boy lives. In fact, I’m told he may make a full recovery. Very odd.”

Thiswasn’t about Damien at all. Or about the Saints.

Hewasn’t looking for intel on their operations or their movements, he fucking knew every single one of them without any help from me. This was about Aodhán.

Séamasthought his son was compromised.

Atraitorous ache spiked into my chest, crushing something there that had no business existing.

Ishouldn’t care what Séamas would do to Aodhán if he thought him a traitor.

Ididn’t care.

“Why?” he asked, but I could tell the question wasn’t for me as he considered the reasons himself.

Somethingoccurred to Séamas and his gaze met mine again, this time with scrutiny as he looked into my damn soul.

“It’s you, isn’t it? Were you there at Gilligan’sFinch that night?” A pause. A narrowing of the eyes. “Does my son care for you, little Saint?”

“He’s a liar and murderer. Just like you. He doesn’t have a fucking heart.”

Séamassmiled and it was the ugliest thing I’d ever seen. “As much as I tried to teach him the disadvantages of keeping it, I’m afraid he still does.”

Asharp prick in my thigh made me jerk my head down in time to see Séamas push the blade in. I screamed at the pressure, the all-consuming agony of it ricocheting through every nerve ending in my body as the knife tip hit bone and dragged.

Ifelt my body sag as he withdrew it, the blackness of unconsciousness ready to take me. ButSéamas slapped me, bringing me back.

“Stay with me, little Saint,” he snarled. “I’m not finished.”

Hehit me again and this time my head snapped back. My right eye burned as blood leaked into it from a split brow.

Iknew he was a liar. He was never going to let me live.

“Fuck you,” I spluttered out. “I hope you rot in hell when the Saints are finished mounting your head on a fucking spike.”

Ispat at him and his upper lip curled.

Thedistinct sound of a key turning in a lock was like a death knell in my ears and I craned my neck to see, shouting as loudly as I could. “Don’t open it!”

ButToby stepped through, cursing at his stuck key before jumping at the sound of my voice.

Ididn’t want to know what horror he saw when he looked at me, but I knew I would never get the look on his face out of my head. Then he noticed Séamas and I felt a hard sob grow in my chest, silencing me.

“Who the hell are you? What are you doing in our apartment?”

“Toby,” I bawled through the tears. “Go! Go! Get out of here.”

Butthrough the saltwater in my eyes, I could see him make the decision and I couldn’t do anything to stop him as his face twisted and he lifted the baseball bat from beside the door to race into the room.

“No!”

Thesilenced gunshot snapped in the air like a muffled crack of lightning.

Tobytoppled over, his slack form hitting the hardwood so hard he slid another two feet, coming to a stop next to my chair.

Wide, vacant eyes stared at nothing as the bullet hole in the exact center of his forehead began to leak, a delicate curl of smoke evaporating from the wound.

Mystomach heaved and I almost wasn’t fast enough to turn my head before burning bile passed my lips, my body wringing itself dry as I fought for breath through the sobs and convulsions.

Toby.

Theair turned to sludge and I struggled to breathe, drowning in it, being sucked down.

Hedidn’t do anything wrong.

Nothim.

“Ope, looks like you’re expecting more company shortly. I suppose I best be on my way.”

Tobywasn’t a part of this.

No.

No. no. no.

“I appreciate your time, little Saint. It’s been…most enlightening,” Séamas said, the words warping and distorting as the darkness finally took me.