Chapter 38
Ronan
I don’t want Colton here for this, any of this.
But if he says he needs it, then that’s what he gets.
When Colton punched his father, it was a little shocking.
I didn’t expect him to react physically.
I can’t blame him; it’s what I would have done.
But then again, I’m sure my family’s actions and mine are not the norm.
He’s emotionally numb right now. His brain is not processing what’s happening.
He needs to step away before the effect is too much for him.
That thought pulls me up short in my thinking.
I’ve never cared how anything affects another person before.
But suddenly it’s all that matters to me.
I want to protect him, and that means mentally as well as physically.
“Colton, look at me.”
The side of his face is resting against my hands. He’s gripping them tightly between his own. His soft, smooth cheek rubs against my knuckles, but he makes no move to lift his head.
“A stór, look at me,” I say gently. He turns his face to mine.
“It’s enough. You got your answers as fucked up as they are.
Be done with this. Please.” That last word comes out of my mouth with a plea.
I need him whole, and he being a part of this will break him.
He may not realize it, but it will. He turned away when I was working on his parents, but he heard the screams. He watched as Jeremiah’s life was ended. He doesn’t need more in his head.
“I want to see it through,” he whispers. Before I can argue with him, he adds. “But you’re right, I need to be done with this. They don’t matter anymore.”
My body relaxes as I wrap my arms around him.
Colton will never have such a weight on him again.
Not as long as I’m alive. He’s come so far by himself.
I’ve always had the backing of my family, so the fact that he has done everything alone makes him strong.
All the data should add up to his failure, but it doesn’t.
“I want to go home.” He says quietly. “I want to forget all of this.”
“Home?” I ask.
“Your place. I want to go back to your apartment. I want us to have dinner with Ollie, read him a story, and watch him fall asleep. Then I want to crawl into bed with your arms wrapped around me.”
“We can do that. Go back upstairs and wait for me. I’ll be there in a minute.”
He looks at me, and I can see it in his eyes that he wants me to go with him now. It hasn’t been that long ago that I needed him to tell me what he was thinking. Now I am starting to read him, not in everything, mainly in the big emotions.
“I need to finish this for you and Ollie. Go wait for me.”
He nods, and after placing a soft kiss on my lips, he heads back upstairs. I watch him leave. I expected his body language to be defeated, but he holds his head up, and his shoulders are back. Good.
I open the door to the room that holds his fucking shit parents for the last time. Rebecca’s head rolls from side to side. I can see how dilated her pupils are from here. Daniel is not in any better shape.
“I had to give him the shot as well. He thought it was nap time.” Duncan tells me from the chair by the door.
“I need to end this and get Colton home.” I walk to the cart and pick up the gun. Its weight in my hand reminds me of the finality of what is about to take place. I would rather make this last for days. To hear them both scream for mercy, knowing there wouldn’t be any for them.
Daniel swings his gaze up to mine and then at the gun. “You’ll burn in hell for this.”
“See you there. I’ll spend the rest of eternity making you suffer.” The bullet hits its mark. A stream of blood flowed from the hole in his forehead. I repeated the shot with Rebecca.
“It isn’t over yet, Ronan,” Duncan says as he walks to my side.
“I know. I’m taking Colton and Ollie home.
Let me know when Conor and Finn have them.
” I leave the room. Uncle Duncan will see to the cleanup and disposal of the trash.
I quicken my step wanting to get to Colton now.
Leaving him alone for too long would give him time to think, and he shouldn’t be alone for that.
He’s sitting on the bench near the front door. His head leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. His finger moves slowly back and forth across the hem of his t-shirt, fingers shaking slightly.
“Colton,” I wait for him to look at me. He doesn’t. I kneel in front of him and place my hands on his thighs. “It’s over. You never have to think about them again.”
He opens his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Do you think I’m weak because I left?”
“No.”
“Everyone in your family, including your Mom, would have done it themselves. I walked away.” His voice is so quiet when he says it that I have to lean closer to hear him.
“You’re not weak. You took Ollie and ran. You saved your brother.” I raise my voice just enough to stop whatever he is going to say. “And because of you, the kids that were sold will be saved. No other kids will be taken. You did that alone. You are one of the bravest people I know.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.”
“It will. Processes this complicated take time. Let’s go get Ollie and go home.” I take his hands in mine and stand, pulling him up with me. His arms wrap around my waist before I can lead us to the door. Goosebumps rise on my skin from his breathe ghosting over my neck as he nuzzles in.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I told you before I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”
He pulls back to look at me, but tightens his hold on me.
A small smile crosses his lips right before he presses them to mine.
As I kiss him back, the positive feeling intensifies.
A tingle in my belly turns to a burn in my chest. This man is mine, and fuck anyone who tries to take him from me. He gives me one last gentle kiss.
“Let’s go.”
I take his hand and lead him to the car.
The drive back to my parents’ house is silent.
I drive with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh.
Every so often, he squeezes my hand. Should I ask him if he wants to talk about it?
Or should I just let him decide when he wants to?
His body language is relaxed but not in the usual way.
This is more in line with exhaustion. The last couple of days have been hell for him.
Held at gunpoint, watching someone get shot, and then the elimination of his parents and abuser.
I shouldn’t have let him stay in the room.
I should have protected him more than I did.
Leather creaks when my hand tightens on the steering wheel. I failed him again.