Chapter 14
SLOAN
The spinal tap was one of the worst things I’d ever witnessed.
Not because of the large needle that doctors stuck into Conall’s spine, but because they were doing it to my pet.
A protest sat heavy on my tongue, but I shoved it down.
If Goodheart said this needed to be done, then I trusted him.
At least Conall was sedated. It was only me who witnessed it.
Once they were done and rushed the results to determine he did have fungal meningitis, they started him on IV antifungals.
Then, all I could do was wait. I paced the floor of the VIP room, fingers twitchy and teeth clenched for half an hour.
I texted on my phone, giving out orders to Daire and our men for another hour.
At one point, I’d tried to turn on the TV, but nothing on the screen held my attention.
And finally, I found myself in a chair at Conall’s side, my fingers threaded in his. I hadn’t spent nearly a month in jail only to lose him. I wouldn’t allow it.
I tightened my hold on his hand and raised it to my lips, laying a kiss on his cool skin.
It didn’t matter how many times I did it, I would keep doing it.
I needed him to know I was here. Waiting.
He was paler than usual and his eyelids twitched, caught in whatever nightmare he was having.
It couldn’t have been worse than how I felt right now, watching my pet struggle against an infection that poisoned him from the inside.
A sense of helplessness settled over me like my own version of venom, blanketing me with anxiety that clawed at my already shredded lungs and ate at my soul.
My father once taught me feelings were weaknesses disguised as humanity and to bury them deep down, where they’d never see the light of day.
That emotional detachment had allowed me to become the boss, but the walls I’d built and locked those emotions in had crumbled.
Conall was the first person to take a pickaxe to them, and little by little, he destroyed them until I was his, completely.
Now I could lose him. I wouldn’t allow it.
If death took him, I wouldn’t be far behind.
Without Conall, I ceased to exist. I didn’t know how I’d breathed before I met him.
Maybe that was the point. I wasn’t living.
Pet after pet, they came and went, and none of them had any real meaning.
A hole to use and a person to control. Then, Conall had entered my world and everything had changed.
He’d destroyed those walls and burrowed into my chest, taking ownership of my heart.
When Conall died, it would be when he was old and gray, and if I had it my way, we’d die together, lying in our bed with our arms wrapped around each other.
A foolish dream, but one that I thought about often.
I was older than Conall, I should hope he died a long time after me, but I was selfish.
If I died, I wanted him right next to me, leaving this world with me because he needed me like I needed him.
We belonged to each other in life and death.
Nothing would come between us, not even a grave.
No. His passion and love and commitment belonged to me.
Doctors and nurses came into his room, taking notes, checking his IV, and giving him medication.
“What were you doing?” I demanded, guarding Conall’s bed. I didn’t trust anyone to take care of him the way he deserved.
A kind, older lady with green cat-eye glasses gave me a gentle smile. I knew her, but I couldn’t remember her name. She had gray hair pulled back into a tight bun. “We’re noting his vitals, Mr. Killough. It’s very important.”
I gnashed my molars. “And what were you giving him?” I nodded at the other nurse who was injecting his IV.
The older nurse shifted closer to me. “They’re giving him IV antibiotics. They’ll fight the infection. You need to trust us to help Mr. Morrissey.”
It wasn’t that easy. Unease prickled over my skin.
The door opened and one of the men guarding the hallways peeked inside. “Everything all right, Boss?”
I nodded sharply. “Fine. Nobody without credentials gets in this room, am I clear?”
The soldier nodded before he was gone again.
Lorcan had sent men after Conall and Fionn.
He’d finally crossed the line and betrayed me in a way I’d make sure he regretted.
My nostrils flared, ideas of torture filling my head.
I’d already begun imagining what I’d do to him, all the gruesome ways I’d make him pay, and the thoughts soothed some of the tension.
“He’ll be out for a while longer,” the nurse said, dragging me out of my thoughts.
I glanced down at her friendly smile again.
“And I see you have men guarding the doors. Maybe you should take a break, sir.” Her voice was low and kind.
I thought she was one of the nurses Daire liked, but I wasn’t sure.
As if reading my mind, or maybe the expression on my face, she spoke again.
“I’m not sure if you remember me, sir. My name is Meredith.
Let me know if you need anything. Maybe you should get something to eat. ”
“No.” I fell back down on the seat next to Conall, eyeing the nurses as they worked. “I’m staying right here until he wakes.”
A couple of hours later, when all was quiet and night had truly fallen, Conall groaned, jerking me out of a half sleep. He shifted in bed and whimpered.
I stood, leaning over him with my thumb caressing his cheek. “Pet?”
His lashes fluttered and hope bloomed in my chest.
“Are you with me?” I whispered, stroking my fingers down his chin and neck.
He blinked awake and his mouth curled softly, a smile drifting over his lips. His eyes opened and he turned his head toward me. When his gaze landed on me, warmth spread through my chest . . . until fear replaced the gentle expression on his face. His eyes widened and he reared back with a gasp.
“Pet?” I threw myself to my feet as he flinched. “Conall, what’s—”
“Stay away from me!” he shouted, voice packed with terror and confusion. He cowered against the head of the bed and the IV line pulled tight.
Panic punched me firmly in the chest, replacing whatever warmth I’d felt about seeing him wake, and I floundered, mind spinning in a million different directions. What had I done to make him scared of me?
“Pet, you’re going to hurt yourself! Stop!” The authority I tried to instill in my voice failed, leaving a wavering concern that made me feel weak and small.
“Get away,” he yelled, yanking at the IV line until he’d managed to tear it from his arm. He scrambled out of the bed and retreated from me until his back was pressed against the wall, face tight in horror. “I said get away! Leave me alone!”
I faltered. Hand outstretched. Heart cracking into pieces where it lay broken in my chest. Was this how I died? From heartbreak? Certainly felt like it.
I focused on the door and raised my voice. “Goodheart! Someone get in here now.”
Conall slid down the wall, his entire body trembling as tears trailed down his cheeks.
He sobbed in a way I’d never heard from him, and he buried his face in his knees as he started rocking.
Blood oozed from his arm where he’d yanked out the IV line and the sight made my stomach churn and bile rise in my throat.
He held out a palm. “Please, go away. Leave me alone. Leave me the fuck alone. I don’t want you here.”
“Conall,” I whispered, desperation thick in the one word. I stepped forward, and he sobbed harder. “Pet, it’s me.”
“Lies. You’re lying.” His rocking grew more intense. “It’s not Sloan. It’s not. Dad’s here. He wants to kill me. Finish the job.” He pounded his fists against his knees, his hospital gown riding up his thighs. “I don’t want to die. I don’t. I want Sloan. I want my boss.”
I gritted my teeth and reached for him, but he flinched away from me again. “Pet, I’m right here. Look at me.”
“No, no, no, no.” He slammed the heels of his palms against his head again and again. I jerked forward to grab his wrists so he didn’t hurt himself. He screamed louder as two nurses and Goodheart ran into the room.
“Let me go!” Conall kicked me in the leg, and my knee gave out, nearly forcing me to the floor, but I managed to catch myself in time.
The nurses rushed forward, grabbing his arms while Goodheart threw out orders for them to hold him as he opened a drawer on a silver medical cart beside the bed to pull out a needle and full vial.
He fed the liquid into the syringe, then hurried over to Conall and stabbed the sharp end into the muscle of his arm.
He pressed down the plunger, emptying whatever meds he had inside.
Agony lanced through me, the feeling of being powerless driving a blade into my heart. I did this. If I’d been at home, I could’ve made sure Conall saw someone earlier.
Conall went limp, his breathing evening out as his head flopped to the side. When the nurses went to move him, I snarled at them. They froze as I shoved them out of the way and hooked one arm beneath Conall’s knees and one under his back so I could lift him.
He groaned, and I shushed him quietly as I laid him back on the bed. I pressed a kiss to his forehead, and he shivered, mumbling, “No, don’t kill me.”
“I’ll never hurt you, Pet. Never.” Once I had him situated, I pulled up the blankets.
One of the nurses cleared her throat. “May I please reinsert his IV, sir?”
I gave her a curt nod, grinding my teeth as I stepped back to give her room.
Rage coiled tight inside my stomach and the wall I’d built to keep my emotions in check fractured and splintered until my control snapped.
I spun toward Goodheart and grasped his neck, shoving his back against the wall where Conall had been.
One of the nurses gasped, but I ignored her as I tightened my fingers around Goodheart’s throat, causing a choked breath to escape his parted lips.
“Why isn’t he better?” I growled out angrily. “He’s getting sicker, Goodheart. You told me you’d fix him.”
Goodheart gagged as I pressed my fingers into his windpipe, unbridled anger boiling my blood and making me see red.
The door to Conall’s room flung open, and I jerked my gaze toward it, ready to fight anyone else who came near Conall.
Fionn stepped in with Daire at his back. He gaped at me.
“Uncle Sloan, stop.” It wasn’t an order, rather a request said in a calm tone. I was the one who’d taught him to speak with confidence and refinement, yet I couldn’t control the urge to kill anyone who hurt Conall, who couldn’t make him healthy again.
“Sloan . . . .” Daire stepped forward, not close enough to touch me but still beside me. “Killing Goodheart won’t help, sir.”
I disagreed. His death would certainly make me feel better.
“Sloan.” Conall’s soft voice filled the room, pleading. “Sloan, I want Sloan.”
I released Goodheart immediately, and he slid to the floor, coughing. I crossed to the bed, pushing one of the nurses out of the way. Sitting on the edge, I brushed a piece of his dark hair off his face, taking in his fluttering eyelashes that struggled to stay open.
“I’m right here, Pet. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Sloan,” Conall mumbled, blindly reaching for me. I clutched his hand and held on to it tight, laying a fierce kiss on it. “Love you.”
My fractured walls all but crashed and burned, and I grated my teeth to stop myself from saying anything too sweet around anyone but my pet. I wouldn’t let my reputation be completely destroyed by my unrestrained emotions.
“I love you, too, Pet.” Another kiss to his hand. “Always.” And another on his forehead. “I won’t let anything happen to you again.”
Goodheart coughed a few more times before allowing Daire to help him stand. He straightened, emotional mask once again slipping across his facial expression as he inclined his head.
“It will take him a few days to get better, sir. Most of his symptoms will continue for weeks up to months, even with treatment. I’m hoping his hallucinations will subside while in the hospital.”
I exhaled heavily. I didn’t let myself feel regret for how I’d acted, enough weakness had been exuded already. Instead, I turned my head fully in his direction and stared him down. “Thank you, Goodheart. I’ll send a bonus package for you and your nurses for the work you’ve done here.”
And to keep your mouth shut. But they knew what my words meant.
Goodheart’s gaze flicked to the nurses, and they left the room. “He’s been sedated and should sleep for a few hours. I’ll come back and check him again soon. From what I’ve seen on his stats, his fever is going down.” With that, he disappeared out the door.
I sighed and squeezed the bridge of my nose. Damn it.
“Uncle?” Fionn shifted farther into the room, his expression drawn. “Are you okay?”
Was I? No. I was coming undone, and I couldn’t let myself. I had to stay alert. For Conall. For me. For Fionn. If I failed, there wouldn’t be a company for Fionn to inherit.
I didn’t answer Fionn, choosing to focus on Conall, who’d finally closed his eyes and fallen into a restful sleep. That was something. I never wanted him to be scared.
Daire moved to stand beside Fionn. “Sir, what do you want us to do about the men who threatened Conall?”
I inhaled. There were no second chances. Seeing Conall like this—tired and sore and sick—triggered a new anger to surface. If they hadn’t been making waves, Conall would’ve seen a doctor earlier.
“I’ve decided what to do with them.” I glanced toward him with a steely look.
Rage bubbled and stirred, sending tingles for revenge to the tips of my fingers.
If Conall wasn’t here, I’d be out there doing the dirty work.
“Kill their families and make them watch if you can. Then, hunt them down like rodents and exterminate them. It’s time to remind this city who’s really in charge.
I want them terrified, begging for their lives.
Make it hurt, Daire. Give the people something to whisper about.
The Killough Company doesn’t tolerate traitors. ”
The corner of Daire’s mouth curled in a sign of his approval. “Yes, sir.”
If they wanted to test my strength, I’d take the challenge and make them regret it. I would burn down this city for Conall. They’d messed with the wrong person, and now they were going to learn what going up against me meant.
Fionn walked to my side and laid his hand on my shoulder. “He’ll be fine, Uncle Sloan. He’s a fighter.”
“I know he is. He’s my pet.”