Chapter 66 Do it. I dare you.
DO IT. I DARE YOU.
brIAR
I go home.
I go home because I have a child, and I can’t just head for the fucking hills after the Irish Devil King threatens my life.
“We have to go!” I shout, nearly incoherent, into the phone as I lose time navigating the fucking subway system. I’d get a rideshare, but I don’t have any money.
I don’t have any money.
“What happened?” Lily asks on the other end of the phone, her tone instantly serious.
“He knows,” I half sob. “Koen knows about Gio.”
“Fuck,” Lily breathes.
“Pack what you can; I’ll be home in ten.”
Bolting through the door fifteen minutes later, I quickly secure the locks and race for my room.
I rip the backpack out from under my bed, and start tearing through drawers, stuffing the bag with what I think are the essentials. Underwear, right? I’ll need clean underwear for my life on the run from a fucking mob boss.
I’m sure Giovanni and his men will find out I tipped off the Irish, if Koen can actually warn Liam in time. So, we can add them to the list of people hunting me down… you know, for funsies.
I sense Lily before I see her standing in my doorway.
I sniff, struggling to keep in the absolute devastation that’s ripping through me. “Koen knows I betrayed him.”
She pales.
“We have to get out of the city. Tonight. It’s not safe.”
She nods solemnly. “I’m going with you.”
I freeze, looking her way. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking, I’m telling.”
“Lily—” I start.
“Briar Elizabeth Ralston, if you think for one second I’m going to leave you and that precious little angel baby to face the Irish Devil on your own, you’ve got another thing coming!”
I almost smile, despite myself. “Fine.”
God, if anything happens to Lily because of me, I will never forgive myself. She can’t stay here either; someone will probably hurt her to get to me.
“Grab what you can. I can get us a car,” she shouts, darting between the bathroom and my room, grabbing stuff.
My head shoots up in her direction. “A car? From who?”
Lily just shakes her head. “A friend. Just be ready to go when I get back.” She’s halfway out the door before she adds, “My backpack’s on my bed but…
pack me some clean underwear, will ya? I forgot.
And it’s a road trip, baby! Don’t forget the snacks!
” She hollers as she runs down the hall, and I hear the door slam shut behind her.
I roll my eyes, laughing through my tears, tearing open my bottom drawer to grab an extra pair of leggings. Only Lily could find the fun in running for your life.
Ten minutes later, I’ve got one backpack for me, one for Lily, and another one filled to the brim for Remi. I’ve also left the suitcases full of clean laundry (thanks to Lily’s mom) that we still haven’t fully unpacked, to take as well.
Remi is still sleeping the night away, blissfully unaware that her entire life is about to be upended.
The plan is that when Lily gets back with the car, we’ll load it up first, and then I’ll grab Remi. She’s a heavy sleeper, so once we get her into the car and start driving, Lily and I can figure out what the fuck the rest of the plan is.
I take a minute to use the bathroom, not knowing how long we’ll have to drive before it’s safe to stop. After that’s done, I decide to do one more pass over my room to make sure I've packed everything important.
My handgun is already tucked safely into my backpack, loaded and ready to go. Extra bullets in the side pocket.
I make it two feet into my room before I freeze. Literally. My eyes go right to the broken window in the now cold, but empty, room.
One of the first things I did when I got home was seal up that stupid window latch with duct tape. It should have prevented him from running his knife through and flipping it open, but I didn’t consider he could just break it…
A chill, that has nothing to do with the cold air, runs the length of my spine.
The gun.
It’s in my backpack, sitting just beside the kitchen island by the door.
Slowly, I turn back around, walking on leaden feet towards the kitchen.
I step into the room, stopping the second I see him.
Looking every bit the dangerous mafia king that he is, Koen waits in the darkest corner of the living room.
I know it’s him, despite the mask obscuring his face.
His dark eyes are on me, and he’s leaning far too casually against the back wall.
My eyes drop to the blade he’s playing with in his hands.
The red glow of the neon sign outside glints off of the hard steel, and I inch closer to my backpack. It’s only a few feet away…
“Is Liam okay?”
It’s a dangerous question to ask, but I ask it anyway. Koen is nearly impossible to read at the best of times, and I need to know what I’m walking into.
Koen’s eyes glint in the dark, which is no comfort. “He’s downstairs.”
I let out a breath of relief and feel a bit of tension release from my shoulders.
Liam’s okay. He’s okay.
“And he’s just as eager as I am to find out why the fuck you set him up,” he says, his eyes reflecting red like the knife in his hand.
I open my mouth to refute his statement, but no sound comes out, because after he speaks, he steps forward, into the kitchen light.
Blood.
He’s covered in it. Both hands are stained crimson, with smears of it all over his clothes, neck, and on the mask itself.
There’s a wild look in his eyes that has me moving closer toward the kitchen.
The way his head tilts is predatory; the way he’s watching me has me fighting an overwhelming urge to scream in terror.
“What’s the matter, Briar? Surprised to see me?” His voice is so cold, so dark, he barely even sounds like himself.
I freeze. Holding up both of my hands, I attempt to reason with him.
“Koen… wait, you don’t understand,” I say, shaking my head. I can’t move; his icy stare alone has me frozen in place.
“Oh, I think I understand perfectly, little Rose. I was just a payday to you. A job,” he snarls at me, and I wince. The knife is still in his hand, and he just continuously runs his finger up and down the blade while glaring at me. “But I thought you understood the rules—no one touches family.”
I swallow, and the tiny movement is enough to snap the cord between us. He lunges for me just as I make a dive for my bag. It’s still open, and my fingers close around the rough grip, just as Koen’s hand closes around me.
He quickly redirects me, slamming my back up against the kitchen wall, and holding me there by my throat.
The knife pressed against my jugular doesn’t even waver when I cock the gun in my hand. I press it just under his chin, and click off the safety with shaking fingers.
Koen laughs, tipping back his head.
“There are those thorns.” His gaze drops back to me, ice cold, no trace of amusement left in his eyes when he leans in, burying the barrel of my gun deeper into his chin.
“Do it.”
I stare up at him with wide eyes, hating how my hand shakes, hating how the scent of him is both a comfort and a terror; the metallic scent of the blood he’s drenched in has my stomach in knots.
“You want to kill me, Briar Rose? Fucking do it!” he half shouts. “Or do you need me to turn around first so you can get a clear shot at my back?”
I wince, and he leans in even closer until his mouth is just over my ear, and his voice drops to a whisper, “Do it. I dare you.”
My grip on the gun tightens, and I let out a whimper of frustration. I can’t. I can’t do it. He’s going to kill me, but yet I can’t pull the fucking trigger.
I’m shaking, crying now, tears once again stain my cheeks. “I can’t.” Exhaling in both surprise and resignation, I lower the gun.
“Should’ve taken the dare.” Koen tilts his head; his eyes look almost—disappointed?
A sharp prick in the soft skin of my neck is a surprise. I’d been so preoccupied with the gun, and with him, I didn’t notice he’d swapped out his knife for a… needle. Fear unlike anything I’ve known before fills me, as my body immediately goes weak; the edges of my vision are already darkening.
There’s pity in Koen’s eyes as I tremble under him; his grip on my throat is all that keeps me upright. He plucks the gun out of my hands easily, taking his eyes off of me for a second to study it.
“No,” I breathe out, my eyes locked on him. My panic alone is all that’s keeping me from going under.
“Koen, don’t—“
His dark eyes slide back to meet mine, and he cocks his head. His fractured eyes reveal a fractured soul. “Don’t what, little Rose? Don’t hurt you? Don’t kill you?” he mocks. “I hate to break it to you, darling, but—“
My eyes dart to the hallway and back. I can’t fight it any longer. I can feel the powerful pull of whatever he injected me with dragging me under.
“Don’t leave her alone!” I shout. The words spilling out of me just before it all goes dark.