21. Declan
21
DECLAN
M y eyes search the crowd angrily as I stalk over to Lochlan. I see the whiskey in his hand, and before I can stop myself, I smack it away. It falls to the ground, spilling and shattering the glass, and he jerks his head up and glares at me as I press my chest into his and push him backward a few steps.
"Where is she, you eejit?" My push is a little too hard. He stumbles backward and comes back at me with both fists. Ronan stands beside me, and the shadow of his presence is the only thing that keeps Lochlan from putting a fist to my face.
"She went to the toilet. Christ almighty." Lochlan straightens his tie and takes a step back, glaring at the mess on the walk beneath my feet. They crunch in the glass as I rake a hand through my hair and glower at him.
"You let her go to the toilet alone?" I ask, seething. "Did you not see how she almost ran off during the fecking ceremony?" My brother is an imbecile, though I see it's the alcohol that's in charge right now. He probably started drinking hours ago. His words are slurred and he can't stand straight. I've been so out of my mind with trying to make sure everything went perfect that I didn't see it.
"She didn't go alone," he slurs. "Maeve went with her… They just went in there. Put the banshee on a leash if you're so worried about it." He gestures at the house as one of Ronan's men hands him a new glass.
"Just go," Ro tells me. He tightens his tie, and I turn away before I smack my other brother silly.
A few heads turn away abruptly as I stalk toward the house. They've been staring at the commotion and I’m not even ashamed of it. Almost everyone here knows how important this moment is. The security alone should be enough to discern that.
Inside the house, I fight against the flow of foot traffic, the scurry of waiters carrying trays, women ushering the last few centerpieces out, and a slew of already-drunken guests milling about. I hear Ronan drawing more attention toward Lochlan, probably for being so foolish, and ignore it. Things got substantially less dangerous the moment Isla said, "I do," but letting her go unguarded even inside this house is risky.
I know how badly she wants to flee. While I don't think any of Sebastian O’Reilly's men are brazen enough to crash this wedding, I do fear Isla will get smart and try to run off. The nervousness I saw in her eyes at that altar discouraged me. She still really doesn't want this, even after the moment we shared last night. I know she wants me. Deep down, she needs me. But she won't allow herself to believe that, and I hate it.
"Aisling, dear…" I call out, searching the hall. The closest bathroom to the door is the powder room down the side hallway. When the team carrying the cake appears at the head of the hall, I duck into the closet so they can squeeze past with mumbles of their thanks.
I force a smile and wait for them to pass, then duck back into the dim hallway and continue on. When I round the corner and see the train of Isla's wedding gown lying on the floor with buttons on the wood around it, my heart freezes. A few things happen simultaneously that have my head spinning.
I hear Maeve screaming, banging on the door to the toilet. The knob's been busted off.
Then I hear gunshots and tires squealing.
A commotion out back behind me makes the hairs on my arms rise to attention. I lift a foot, shouting, "Move back!" before kicking the door open. Maeve rushes out in a puddle of mascara and tears.
"She ran… Oh, God… she ran out the door," Maeve blurts out, and I turn and run too. Her shoes are here, just inside the door that swings in the breeze.
I dart into the garden, finding women's footprints in the mud along the side of the house, and I've got my weapon drawn as I hear more gunfire coming from the front of the house. My feet can't move fast enough. My heart is pounding against my chest at the thought that she's out there now, somewhere vulnerable, somewhere scared.
As I crest the property, racing onto the sidewalk, I see Aiden and Nicholas with their guns raised, firing on a car that is racing away. From the side door of the car I see a long white swatch of material shut in the door. They've got her.
"Feck!" I scream, pointing my gun at the car, but there is traffic, and so many of our guests have their cars lining both sides of the street. The car is too far away and there's a chance my bullet could hit Isla. I can't take the shot. "Get the car!" I scream to Nicholas, but the car is parked in, covered in ribbons with tins tied to them, the words Just Married scrawled on the back window in white soap.
I feel a hand on my shoulder as a dozen men take to the street, and Ronan says into my ear, "We'll get her. Come on… We have to deal with guests before this gets out of hand. Mick will raise hell."
It takes every ounce of my will to turn away from that street and let our men chase them down, but Ro is right. Damage control is the first priority. Aiden and Nicholas will chase, and when things here are controlled, I'll go out too. I won't let Sebastian get away with this. His blood will be mine.