28. Cian
Chapter 28
Cian
“I’m going with them.” Riley’s voice is firm.
“Absolutely not.” Finn white-knuckles the steering wheel.
“She’s my sister.” Riley faces Finn. “And we need all the help we can get.”
Finn gives a gruff reply. “If you’re going with them, so am I.”
“Out of the question. You’re still recovering. Driving the getaway car is about the only thing you can do safely with that arm . ”
“Since when are you my supervisor?”
“Since I became your nurse.” Riley levels a stern glare at the heir to the Irish Kings. “I mean it, Finn Gallagher. If you try to fight before your arm’s better, I will shoot both your legs.”
“I love you.” Finn says it at such a low volume that no one overhears but me.
The words stab at my heart. A reminder of just what’s at stake.
“Eyes on the road.” Riley tangles her fingers with his as Finn flattens the pedal to the floor, and our armored caravan flies down the dark interstate.
Finn and Riley have been like this all day, tenderness interspersed with terse arguments. Eavesdropping on them is all I can do on this never-ending drive.
Meanwhile, I’m barely functioning.
I forgot how quickly my world could fall apart.
This has been the longest day of my life. Every second we don’t find her alive and breathing is agony. Guilt stalks my every thought. Rage shadows me, stalking my every move. But I’m numb.
My muscles are coiled so tight with tension, I might just combust. I’m so angry at myself, at the De Lucas, at the scum-ridden underworld we live in, that I don’t recognize myself.
I could kill the first person who crosses me with only my thumb and index finger.
And enjoy it.
Indestructible fury courses through me. Immortal. It won’t die until every De Luca operative, ally, and sympathizer is dead, until Harper is back in my arms safe and sound. Maybe not even then.
Every minute that my rage grows, my father cackles from within his coffin. If we don’t find Harper soon, I’ll snap. When that happens, there may be no survivors.
Optimism has long since deserted me, but I do have the facts.
After Enzo bluffed about having Harper, I spent weeks extensively and painstakingly researching the De Lucas’ real estate holdings across the country. I analyzed their purchase patterns and property preferences. To retrieve information about their growing underground network and sniff out details about Harper, I even stormed a few of the locations.
All that work was a rehearsal for this moment.
“We’re here.” Rory’s words drop an ominous shroud over the whole van. That’s my cue.
From the seat, I get to my knees and rip open the concealed weapon cabinet built into the floor of every King vehicle. I grab two submachine guns. A double holster. Extra magazines.
The road beneath us gets rough.
A moment later, bullets pepper the sides of our armored van like a percussive welcome song.
“Darren!” Finn shouts from the front seat, yanking the wheel to the right. The van shudders as Finn mows down one of the shooters, crushing the body beneath our giant wheels.
“One step ahead of you.” Darren’s already in position against one wall. He presses a button and opens a window the size of a Rubik’s Cube. Taking aim, he launches a tiny device of some sort at the nearest threat. “Punch it!”
Finn floors the gas, and the van lurches forward. A few seconds later, a small explosion rocks the night.
Darren loves his explosives.
Rory sighs as Darren picks up his sniper rifles and starts firing at any survivors. “So much for surprising them.”
“Give me a break. It’s not like they didn’t know we were coming.”
“Both of you, shut it and quit bickering.”
The barked command comes from Riley.
Even more surprising, the two of them listen.
More gunfire follows.
Rory hollers over the noise. “We’ll search the main compound first.”
“She won’t be in the main compound. Here.” In my hand, I hold a tablet with the blueprint Rory managed to pull. I point to a lone building on the back side of the property. “ That’s where Enzo would have her.”
Rory offers me a curt nod. “We’ll follow your lead then.” He climbs up to the front seat to give Finn directions.
I’ve been stalking Enzo De Luca for the past several weeks. I’ve analyzed his movements, documented his whereabouts, dug as far as I could into his mind.
As much as he disgusts me, I understand him. More than I want to.
Because Harper connects us.
Enzo wants her.
Maybe in the beginning this was about tormenting Finn or avenging his brother. But somewhere along the way, Enzo developed a sick fascination with Harper all his own. It’s easy to recognize the symptoms.
If abducting Harper were about Finn or revenge, Enzo would’ve already made his move. He would’ve called in a ransom to Shane—Harper is still a protected daughter—or at least flaunted the fact that he has her.
But we’ve heard nothing.
Enzo kidnapped Harper on his own. He didn’t tell anyone about it. He’s holding her as his personal captive instead of sending her to a generic De Luca facility for confinement or torture.
In other words, vengeance against Finn isn’t his motivator.
He’s taking Harper someplace where they can avoid disturbances.
Somewhere private, detached, and difficult to find.
Like an isolation unit on the back of this property.
We explode out of the trees, driving deeper into a dark and lonely De Luca compound. Other than the welcoming committee, the place seems deserted. Those left of the bunch pursue us in vehicles of their own as Finn races down a dirt access road that leads around to the back of the property.
The compound is about the size of a neighborhood baseball field. Multiple buildings connected by covered walkways comprise the main structure. The property itself is divided by winding dirt roads and ten-foot walls. If I had to guess, this place was either a prison or a military school before the De Lucas bought it.
“I don’t get it. Why bring her here?” Darren shuts the tiny window and moves to the opposite side of the van, next to me. “This makes no sense.”
“Look alive,” Rory warns, retrieving a gun from the holster on his chest. “I think they’re expecting us.”
“ They should be .” I rip the van door open sideways the same second Finn stomps the brakes. Tires screech to a halt below. Darren and I fly out into the night, the woods engulfing the property and darkening our environment even more.
“Go! We’ll cover you!” Rory shouts at our backs as we pound the dirt. The rev of oncoming vehicles behind us rises through the air, followed by bullets spraying the back of the armored car.
The exchange of gunfire gets louder even as we sprint away from the action. My pulse, thundering in my ears, obscures almost every other noise.
All I can focus on is the isolation hut, its outline almost invisible against the night.
“Doesn’t this seem strange to you?” Darren roars behind me.
I’m not listening. Harper’s terrified eyes stare at me in my mind. In my memory, her arms are still around my neck. I refuse to let her die.
Darren keeps going. “Why would they keep her here?” We’re only a hundred feet from the shack when Darren inhales, big and sharp. “Cian, wait! I think this?—”
My ankle tears through a barely perceptible, microscopic thread.
A trip wire.
A sonic, subterranean boom .
Infernal heat. Splitting, splintering wood.
The force of the blast breaks the night. Stars watch from far above as Darren and I fly backward through the air.
We crash into the dirt, faces slick with sweat and smeared with earth.
Ears ringing. Head spinning. Ahead of me, the flames consuming the shack blaze up into the sky.
My world turns to silence and slow motion.
No!
Grief threatens to rip me in two.
Somehow, I stumble to my feet and half stagger, half sprint the rest of the way to the shack. I kick in the door and shoulder into the inferno beyond.
I’ll never believe Harper’s dead. Not unless I see her body, unless I find proof of?—
The inside of the shack is full of nothing but fire. The smoke’s too thick. I can’t see everything, but in this outhouse version of hell, I discern no human remains. I know what burning flesh smells like, and it isn’t this.
There’s nothing here.
Wait. There.
On the far wall. Nailed to the wood. It’s?—
Strong fingers stab into my back, grabbing a rough fistful of my shirt. Someone hauls me over the flaming threshold of the shack and back out into the night. I cough so hard, I retch a little. Didn’t realize how much oxygen I’d lost.
Rory shoves me farther away from the blazing structure, forcing me to run with what strength I have back toward the van.
Dead De Luca soldiers litter the path behind our vehicle.
Riley’s handiwork, I imagine. She’s helping Darren into the van, and once Rory and I climb inside, Finn yanks the vehicle into a U-turn. We tear toward the exit of the property like bats out of hell.
Riley and Rory kneel in front of me, bright neon concern painted on their faces, while I sit panting and dazed on the seat.
Rory gives me a once over. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just a little shaken up.”
“Good.” Without another word, he lifts his hand and smacks me upside the head. “What the hell did you think you were doing, running in there after the explosion before we cleared it, you dumbass?”
“Darren was right. It was a trap, but I had to know for sure,” I wheeze, still coughing out smoke. “Harper wasn’t there, but she’s…she’s not dead.”
Riley heaves a relieved breath, her eyes falling closed.
“How do you know?” Rory’s voice deepens in anger.
“Her hair.”
Riley’s eyes snap to my face. “What?”
“A lock was nailed to the wall in the shack.” The image is branded on my brain. “That bastard is taunting us.”
The mood grows sour, bitter, and darker than before.
“We got lucky.” Darren coughs, swiping dirt and gravel off his cheek. “But we also underestimated him.”
Finn unleashes a growl while slamming the steering wheel with his palm. “ Won’t happen again .”