Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
MADS
I come to in total darkness, my head throbbing like someone’s playing a death metal concert inside my skull. My mouth tastes like ass—remnants of the beer I chugged before everything went sideways.
My first coherent thought is: Pavel, you absolute fucking weasel.
I test my restraints, feeling the plastic zip ties biting into my wrists.
Classic. They’ve restrained my arms behind my back, and from the cold seeping into my ass and thighs, we’re on a concrete floor.
The hood over my head smells like burlap and motor oil—charming.
Does that mean our impromptu dungeon is in the back of some repo shop?
“Fucking hell,” I mutter, rolling my shoulders to ease the ache. Every motion sends lightning bolts of pain through my temples. Whatever they dosed us with, it wasn’t the premium stuff.
“Mads? You alive?” Moira’s voice comes from beside me, too loud in the silence.
“Unfortunately,” I respond, irritation flaring.
This is a goddamn nightmare. My perfectly orchestrated plan to get Moira to break up with Bane, keep her and Domhnall safe, and disappear back into the shadows has exploded spectacularly.
And now I’ve dragged Donny’s baby sister into my mess.
“Moira. You absolute disaster of a human being. This is one hundred percent your fault.”
It’s not, of course. It’s mine. All mine. But admitting that would be admitting weakness, and I need Moira angry, not weepy. I need her sharp and ready to fight.
She laughs, the sound harsh and slightly hysterical. “Oh, my fault? You were the one dragging me down the street like we were late for the fucking Oscars!”
“Yeah, because I was trying to save your life!” I hiss, the guilt grinding in my chest like broken glass.
I’d been so focused on my objective that I hadn’t even noticed we were being followed.
Rookie mistake. “Jesus Christ, I tell you to break up with your priest, and instead of listening like a reasonable person, you drop that little bombshell—Oh, by the way, we got married—and the next second, we’re getting thrown into a goddamn van! ”
I feel her shifting beside me, testing her restraints. Good girl. At least one of us is thinking practically.
“That had nothing to do with this!” she snaps back.
“Nobody even knows about that. He made sure the marriage certificate was confidential so it’s not a matter of public record.
” She pauses, then adds with venom, “Nobody would have even known I was with him. This is about that stupid paparazzi picture because you had to go smoke a stupid fucking cigarette when you knew there were fucking photographers around!”
I let out a strangled noise, partly from frustration, partly from the tension in my shoulders. “Oh, fuck you, Moira. Fuck. You. I should’ve left you there. I should’ve just walked away and let you handle your own goddamn mess.”
The words taste sour because they’re lies. I would never have left her. I might be a monster, but I’m not that kind of monster. Not with Domhnall’s sister. She’s the only thing he’s ever loved in this whole world besides—
Besides me.
She snorts. “Uh-huh. Because you were the one who got dragged into my bullshit, not the other way around?”
My heart stutters. If only she knew. If she knew the blood on my hands, the bodies I’ve left behind, the lives I’ve ruined. If she knew the bargains I’ve made with devils.
“Oh my god, I hate you,” I say instead. I need to assess our situation, figure out where we are, and then map out escape routes. I have to fix this. “Where even are we?”
She’s quiet for a moment, listening. “Warehouse, maybe? Basement? Definitely somewhere creepy and murder-y.”
I sigh, letting my head drop back. “Fabulous. Just how I wanted to spend my night. Tied up next to you in a discount horror movie set.”
My mind is racing through scenarios, calculating odds, and identifying potential weapons.
These aren’t amateurs we’re dealing with.
Pavel’s men are ex-military, mercenaries with body counts in the double digits.
The fact that we’re still alive means they want something.
Leverage, maybe. Information. Or we’re bait for bigger fish.
“Would you rather they knocked you out again?” Moira threatens. “Because I could start screaming and see if they come back.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I snap. The last thing I need is those goons returning before I have a plan.
“Then shut up and let me think.”
“Oh, great, Moira’s gonna think. This is already going so well,” I mutter, but my heart isn’t in the insult. I’m actually impressed with how calm she is, how she’s not breaking down in hysterics. Domhnall’s sister has a spine of steel. Who knew?
“Why didn’t you go running to my billionaire brother if we’re all in so much danger?” she asks suddenly. “Domhnall could have an entire army of mercs to protect him and you.”
The question hits like a sucker punch. I freeze, my throat tight.
Domhnall. My Donny. My anchor. My salvation. My doom.
She doesn’t get it—can’t possibly understand what it would mean to pull him into this. To watch these animals tear him apart. To see the light go out in his eyes as he realizes exactly what kind of monster he’s been sleeping beside all these years.
“Oh shit,” Moira whispers, realization dawning in her voice. “This is too big for even Domhnall to fix, isn’t it? But at least he could’ve tried.”
That breaks something in me. “And ended up with us all dead if any little thing got fucked up? No! I won’t risk him.” The fear and rage I’ve been holding back come flooding out. “You’re the idiot who fucked the son of the richest man in the world. So fuck you.”
“Took the words right out of my mouth,” she shoots back.
I groan, trying to rein in my emotions. This isn’t helping. We need to work together if we’re going to survive. “Okay, well, whatever your big plan is, I assume it involves some level of stupidity?”
“Oh, absolutely,” she says, and there’s a new resolve in her voice that makes me pay attention.
“Of course it does,” I mutter automatically, but my mind is already shifting gears.
She has a plan. Good. Wait, is that good?
She’s as nuts as I am. “This is really working out great for both of us. Just stellar planning all around. I love being tied up in a murder basement with you, of all people. Best day ever.”
She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she takes a deep breath. “Okay. This is gonna suck.”
Something in her tone raises every red flag in my system. “What?” I demand.
“I’m dislocating my thumb.”
Holy shit. This girl has bigger balls than half the men I’ve worked with. “The fuck you are!”
“Too late!” she grunts, and I hear the sickening pop of bone moving where it shouldn’t, followed by her strained voice. “Oh, motherfucker—”
My stomach lurches. “Oh my god, I think I’m gonna puke,” I gag, not entirely faking it. “What the fuck, Moira?!”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you have a better idea?” she hisses through what must be excruciating pain. “Or do you just wanna keep lying here like a useless sack of shit?”
“You’re insane,” I say, but there’s a note of admiration I can’t quite hide.
“That’s rich coming from you, Splitzy. And look, I’m the only one escaping.”
I hear her working her hand through the zip tie, the soft grunts of effort, the sharp exhale of pain. Then—snap.
She’s free.
Relief washes through me. This is perfect. Better than I could have planned. If she can get out, she can get help. She can disappear before Pavel or his boss—whoever the fuck that is—can use her to get to Bane. To get to me and Domhnall. She can break it off with the priest, vanish, and live.
Meanwhile, I can stay. I can face Pavel, play his game, and buy her time to run. I can protect Domhnall by keeping these animals focused on me.
I hear the rustle of fabric as she removes her hood, then her footsteps as she moves toward me.
“I hate you,” I say, but with less heat than before. “I hate everything about you. I hope you get tetanus from this floor.”
“Noted,” she says, and I feel her hands on my zip ties.
Panic flares through me. “No,” I say sharply.
“Moira, no. You can’t free me. If I go with you, they’ll think I helped you escape.
I’m fucked if that happens.” This isn’t a lie.
If Pavel thinks I helped Moira escape, he’ll make sure Domhnall pays the price.
“You can still stop all this. You need to run to that priest, break it off, and then disappear. If I stay, I can make sure Domhnall stays safe. I won’t do anything that puts him in danger. ”
I can feel her hesitation. “Mads—”
“No.” I make my voice as hard as steel. “I mean it. You know me. You know I’m not bluffing. Domhnall’s everything to me, and I’ll play their game if it keeps him alive. But you have to go. Just break up with the priest, for fuck’s sake! It’s the only way any of us makes it out of this alive.”
She hesitates, and I wonder if she’s going to argue. “This is stupid,” she finally says.
“Oh yeah? Well, so is love, but here we fucking are,” I reply, surprised by how raw my voice sounds. “Now get the hell out of here before they catch you, or I swear I’ll start screaming.”
Footsteps echo in the hallway. Fuck. We’re out of time.
“You better not die,” she whispers fiercely, “Because Domhnall will so fucking kill me if you die.”
A smile tugs at my lips despite everything. “I’ve got more lives than a cat,” I whisper back, meaning it. I’ve survived worse than this. Far worse. “Now get the fuck out of here!”
She hesitates—just for a second—and then she’s gone, her footsteps fading down what must be some auxiliary corridor or service passage.
I slip the hood back on, sitting exactly as they left me, zip ties still tight on my wrists. The relief I feel knowing Moira’s free is almost dizzying. One less complication. One less innocent caught in the crossfire of my fucked-up life.
The door bangs open, heavy footsteps crossing the floor.