42. Summer
Chapter 42
Summer
M y vision blurs as those words rip from my father’s mouth.
I try to move.
Try to yank myself away from the traitorous Callum.
He told me Kieran was in trouble—not wrong about that. His stoic exterior when I ran into him unnerved me, but he said he’d help me. He said he’d help Kieran. Bastard.
Kieran’s growl stretches over the room, and that’s when they prickle behind my eyes—the tears. They pool, releasing down my face as I scowl at my father.
There’s no question. I love Aoife. Never in a million years would I fail to do everything possible to ensure her health and safety.
Luna’s decision to come for me, to give herself up for me all those years ago, assaults me. She willingly gave herself up to EV to protect me because she loved me. In this moment, I understand. It hits me like a tidal wave and drowns my chest. I’d give up everything without hesitation for Aoife and Kieran. They’re my life. My future.
My stomach churns with anger, and the guilt I’ve been carrying around for all these years crumbles. I’d never want Kieran or Aoife to feel guilty I’m making the choice to go back to New York. Because even if it takes my last ounce of strength, my last breath, I’ll make sure they’re safe.
The door opens and Riku runs in, hands on his holstered weapon.
“Salvatore, how many guards do you have here? There are five armored SUVs sitting outside. You’re drawing too much attention.”
Salvatore looks up from his phone playing the video of Aoife trying to get her mermaid kite into the air.
She told me why mermaids were her favorite. She said because it’s the best of both worlds. The mystery of the ocean’s depths and the adventure of life on the surface. Of course, at almost five, her words stopped there, but I mulled it over some more. How mermaids captivate the human imagination because they live at the boundary between two worlds—the allure of the unknown and the longing for freedom. No words have ever felt more true or applicable to me. The struggle between the desire of the heart and demands of reality.
A sickening pop has me glancing to where Riku digs into Kieran’s protruding shoulder. The side is drooping, a noticeable bulge where the normal shoulder joint should be. He cries out in pain.
“Stop! Stop! Please!” I yank forward only to be met with my father’s hand around my throat.
“Who’s here, O’Donnell? You call the feds?” Riku shouts.
He rears back and lands an uppercut underneath Kieran’s jaw and the scream that erupts out of the back of my throat is feral.
“Stop! You bastard! Stop!” My father wraps his arms around me as I claw and scratch him. My fingernails rip into flesh as I struggle to get toward Kieran, my ire finding Riku. “I’ll kill you. Touch him again, and I will kill you!” Then glancing at my father, I add. “Both of you.”
I allow several years of pent-up rage and obsessive fear to smear across my expression. And, for a moment, my father is taken aback. The smirk on his face dies and his brows furrow.
But as quickly as it comes, it disappears. “What’ll it be, O’Donnell?”
Riku strolls behind the chair, pulling Kieran’s head into a headlock and squeezing. Kieran’s eyes, already bloodshot and red, pop wide.
“It’s not even a question! I’ll go! I’ll go with you … please don’t touch Aoife.” My father’s arms slacken.
There’s pounding on the door, followed by a loud bang, as if a body was thrown against the metal on the other side.
Kieran’s voice tries and fails to speak. Finally, Riku releases him, shoving his head to the side and I wince.
“Ye’re dead. All of ye are?—”
The world slows as the gunshot rings out, splitting the air. Kieran’s body snaps back with the shot to his chest, the force of the close-range bullet sending the metal chair he’s strapped to tipping back and hitting the floor with a bone-shattering thud.
I don’t realize I’ve screamed until my throat burns in agony, raw from the sound of his name wailing from my lips.
My heart stops, suspended with the agonizing realization—Oh my god.
Blood blooms across his chest, dark and currant-red, spreading through the white of his shirt. Stinging tears come hot and sudden, welling up and spilling over. My breath is caught somewhere between a sob and a scream—God, the pain—what do I do? How can I?—
Strong hands grip my waist, lifting me, as the creak of the door opening sends a wave of disbelief and utter terror through me, choking me.
They’re taking me away. He’s dying and I … I need to go to him. How can I tell Aoife her father is gone?
I buck, pulling my legs up and kicking behind me. The world spins while the sound of the gunshot still echoes in my ears. It’s as if it wakes me up out of this slow-motion dream, because I scream. I scream for Kieran. For me. For Aoife.
“Let me go!” I wiggle and squirm, but it’s no use. Bulky arms surround me, crushing me the more I try to dodge his grasp. The doorframe passes by, and I scream again.
Through the hair sticking to my sweaty forehead, I catch sight of people running. And that’s when I hear it. More gunshots. More screams.
“Move. Move!” My father’s voice is loud in my ear. Two more guards rush over, forming a protective barrier around him and the man holding me. Each guard grips a brawny firearm, the barrels swiveling as they scan every angle. Their fingers hover over the triggers, ready for any threat.
“Summer!” The voice is familiar, and I catch Cormac fighting a crowd of running people. Behind him, Finn raises his gun at my father.
“He’s in the training room!” I try to yell above the shots and screams. “He’s shot! Cormac you have to get to him!”
Several shots ring out behind Cormac and Finn. Riku and his men have pulled their weapons firing at?—
More thunderous shots, loud and unrelenting, fill the air. Pings of bullets ricochet off the concrete walls in exploding booms. It’s chaos. Utter chaos and devolving by the second.
Through the barrage of shots, bodies dive for cover behind the few open training room doors, while some people pour back into the arena.
It’s madness.
I try to keep up with Cormac and Finn, but I lose them and can only hope they’ll make it to Kieran.
Kieran. Desperate tears fall down my face as I try to escape my father’s men during the distraction of the firefight. One man guarding us goes down, a shot to the leg. Blood splatters ahead of me as a young blonde’s skull is blown off in a single disorienting shot.
With another shot, the man carrying me pitches forward and I bite the concrete with a hiss. My elbows take the brunt of the fall. For a minute, the wild violence warps into a sludgy slow, and the man carrying me groans in pain with a gunshot wound to his side next to me.
Pushing up, I reach over and rip the pistol from his side holster while hands above me fumble to gather me again.
I shout, turning over and aiming the gun at the man standing above me. My father’s guard lifts his hands while my father ducks down to my level. I scramble back, sit up, and use one hand to aim the gun back and forth between them both.
“You … you killed him,” I rasp out, tears streaming down my face.
My father glares at me. “I did not. Riku did. Enough with this nonsense, we need to go.”
No. No, there’s no way I’m going.
Loud thuds of synced footsteps echo in the hallway. My hands shake as I fumble with the gun.
My father looks up at a group of men as they approach.
No, not more guards, please.
He smirks, glancing down to where I grip the gun.
“Come on, Isabella. You don’t even know how to hold it properly. It’s time to go.”
I glance behind me. A few scattered bodies lie on the floor, but most of the underground area has cleared out. The gunshots have subsided, and all I can think about is getting back to Kieran. I’ll crawl if I have to. I need to know if he’s going to make it.
Please make it. Aoife needs her father. I need him.
“Stay with me, please,” I whisper the words, my voice trembling into the void, hoping that somehow, he’ll hear them.
“Well, it’s about time you showed up. Didn’t realize you’d be supporting tonight, but your loyalty to the Cosa Nostra won’t be forgotten.” My father’s voice is gleeful, and it infuriates me.
“Well, when a Buscetta calls …”
I draw in a deep breath, my heart racing. Not in fear, but drumming with a surge of energy.
Glancing to my left, Marco stands there. Black tactical gear with a thick heavy-duty vest that covers his torso, and a chunky utility belt loaded with weapons around his waist. I stare at his tightly laced combat boots, my gaze trailing upward along his imposing figure until it reaches the sharp knowing glint in his expression.
Those words were meant for me.
“Let me help you up, Miss Buscetta.” Marco’s men, the group probably more than ten, surround where I am. My father and the remaining uninjured guards lower their defenses and weapons.
Marco reaches down, offering me his hand. Now, this man, who I hated for trying to use me to get back in the Cosa Nostra has just become, quite literally, my lifesaver.
When I’m hauled up, my father’s guard holds out his hand for the gun, but I raise it on him instead. And when he responds with his own, Marco’s men all train their weapons on my father.
Salvatore Buscetta, my father, falters.
His smug expression of a prize won slackens as he glances at all the men behind me pointing their weapons at him. “What is the meaning of this?”
Though the thoughts tumbling through my mind are of Kieran and Aoife, wanting to make sure they’re safe, I can’t help the mirage of memories that pour in.
The day my father forced my sister into marriage. Drowning in drugs and alcohol to escape my jailed life. My father’s decision to let my sister die for the sake of his alliance. His promise to marry me into the Cartel. His use of Aoife to barter for me back … and he … he stood there while Riku shot Kieran. My Kieran.
No more. It’s time I upheld my end of the bargain.
Tears rip down my cheeks, cold and callous—like they carry some portion of my soul with them as I give it away.
“You’re not the only Buscetta who can secure an alliance,” I say.
Then, I fire.