59. Ravenna
Ravenna
B rendan and a small group of men, who I vaguely recognize, take Cian from his cell and cuff his hands behind his back. Discretely, I pluck a pin from my hair, hiding it in my palm. As expected, they handcuff me as well.
We’re brought out of the building to a couple of waiting SUVs. It’s night. A biting November wind chills my skin. I firmly hold onto the bobby pin. It’s my only chance for escape once the opportunity presents itself.
Cian’s shoved into the backseat of one vehicle, while I’m separated from him and deposited into the other car. Brendan follows me inside, occupying the seat next to me.
As we roll out of the compound, I wonder why Cian’s men turned on him. Is it all of them, or just some? Did Wolfe become a traitor too?
Knowing Brendan’s behind everything, I’m pretty sure my suspicions of Wolfe were misplaced. If that’s true, then where is he? I’d think Wolfe would be charging in here to rescue Cian. So far, no such luck.
“Where are you taking us?” I ask Brendan while staring straight ahead. I don’t want him to see the fear in my eyes. He’s the type of man to get off on that kind of power trip. Something about him reminds me too much of my brother.
He pulls me onto his lap. I struggle against him, but lose my balance with my hands secured behind my back. He steadies me by gripping my shoulders. One palm slides up the side of my neck and he cups my cheek. I glare daggers at him.
“You have so much fight in you, Ravenna.” His minty breath washes across my face. “You remind me of my sister. Fiona was so full of life before he took it all away from her. Don’t you see? All I want is revenge. You’d do the same if you were in my shoes.”
“I’d never do what you did to Cian. I’d never torture someone like that,” I spit at him.
“Yes, you would.” His nose brushes mine. “In fact, if you could, you’d do that to me. Wouldn’t you?”
I open my mouth to respond when his lips crash down on mine. A strangled protest leaves my throat, my eyes wide. Snarling, I bite his lip, satisfied when I taste a coppery tang.
Brendan jerks his head back. Blood trickles down his chin.
Wiping it away with the back of his hand, he grins. “We’re going to have so much fun together. But first, I need to make you a widow.”
Alarm shoots through me. “How are you going to do that?”
“Wait and see, little vixen.” He cocks his head to one side.
“Really, it shouldn’t make much difference to you.
You were arranged to marry the leader of this crew, to unite the Irish and Italians.
Nothing will change except you’re getting a new husband.
Me. I’m the new leader, and I’m Irish. But unlike O’Rourke, I know what a bitch like you is good for.
You’ll be pregnant with my child as soon as possible.
Then we’ll do it all over again, and again.
I’m going to keep you pregnant for years.
Seven, twelve, twenty children—I haven’t settled on a number yet. ”
I recoil on his lap. “You’ll never get close enough to me for that.”
“No? You should know that I have no qualms about rape. You can scream all you want, but I will fuck you. As soon as I do away with O’Rourke, we’re signing that marriage certificate, and you’ll be mine.
It’s your duty to spread your legs for me whenever I want.
Besides, there’s no such thing as rape in marriage. ”
Ew . What a disgusting asshole.
For probably the first time in my life, I keep my mouth shut. He’s told me everything I need to know for now. He’s going to murder Cian. I have to stop him. It’s as simple as that.
The SUV pulls into a deserted parking lot. Is this it? Is Brendan going to shoot Cian and leave his body here? Why not kill him at the compound where his death could be hidden? Unless Brendan wants the whole world to see what he’s about to do.
We get out of the vehicles. “Walk,” Brendan demands.
We’re both marched toward a bluff, then down several stairs to a walkway. Traffic hums below us. Moist, frigid air clings to my lungs.
The walkway emerges onto a long, narrow bridge with ancient pillar lights. It’s not built for vehicles, and this time of night there aren’t any pedestrians on it either. We’re all alone up here above what I recognize as the Harlem River.
We don’t have much time left, do we?
I remove the rubbery tip from my bobby pin with my nails, then insert one end halfway into the lock. I bend it to a ninety degree angle. Doing the same on the opposite side, I feel the shape of the pin, envisioning it in my mind’s eye, until I have the desired, sharp S-shape.
“Cut it here,” Brendan instructs his goons, and they get to work cutting away the chain-link safety fencing on one side of the bridge. Without it in place, only a short metal railing prevents a person from falling into the rushing current below.
Realizing what he’s going to do, I face my captor. “Please. You can’t?—”
“I can and I will.” He speaks up so everyone can hear him. “I’ve thought long and hard about an appropriate ending for you, O’Rourke. I considered all the usuals—gun, knife, strangulation, etc. Then it hit me. I want you to suffer like Fiona did. Suffocating, while you’re completely helpless.”
While he talks, I devote my attention to picking the handcuff lock. I only need one hand free. Just one.
The pin slips between my freezing fingers. I still. For a second, I think I’ve lost it, but it’s stuck in the cuff of Gin’s fur coat.
Deeply inhaling to steady my trembling hands, I patiently maneuver the pin until I apply just the right amount of pressure. Doing this behind my back messes with my head. Everything is upside down and backwards. I should have practiced this more.
“See you in hell, you fuck,” Cian snarls at him.
“You can bet on it.” Brendan grabs my arm and pulls me into his side, the jerky motion releases the locking mechanism.
I’m free. “Now we’re going to watch O’Rourke drown.
I can’t think of a worse way to go. The pain as your body fights for oxygen must be excruciating.
To know that there’s no way to save yourself must be even worse. Say goodbye.”
“Cian—” I start, but one of Brendan’s goons shoves my husband over the short railing. His hands are still cuffed behind his back. He’ll drown. “No!”
Punching Brendan in the balls, I free myself from his hold. He curses and doubles over.
So he does have a weak spot. I wish I’d tried that earlier.
As I sprint away from him, he reaches out and grabs my coat. I let the oversized garment peel away from my shoulders and down my arms.
One of the goons makes a grab for me, but I’m already mid-swan dive over the railing. Then I’m falling, falling, falling. The rushing water rises up to swallow me whole, knocking the air from my lungs.