Chapter 28 Annie
ANNIE
I'm in the middle of counting the bricks on one wall when I hear the sound of voices upstairs, and movement coming toward the staircase that leads down here.
Something's happening.
I straighten in the chair as much as I can with my wrists and ankles bound, straining to hear. The voices are muffled, but there are definitely more people in the house than there were before.
Has Desmond brought more men? Or is this—
Hope flares in my chest, dangerous and desperate, mingled with an icy terror.
Could it be Ronan? Or Elio? Could it be both of them?
If so, they might be able to save me. Or they might have walked right into Desmond’s trap.
The door opens, and Desmond steps in. "Sounds like we have company," he says with an eerie smile, and I flinch. "Right on schedule."
"What are you talking about?" I ask, my voice hoarse.
He steps into the light, and there's a gun in his hand. "Your brother. I sent him your location an hour ago, along with a photo of you tied to this chair. Told him if he wanted you back, he'd better come alone."
"He won't come alone." I force the words out with more confidence than I feel. "Ronan's not stupid."
"No, but he is predictable." Desmond checks his weapon, then looks at me with something like pity. "He loves you. And love makes people do incredibly stupid things. Like walking into obvious traps."
There’s a sound of breaking glass upstairs, sudden and sharp—and then gunfire. I flinch at the rapid percussion of shots, and Desmond smiles. "And there it is. Right on time."
"Let me go." I pull at the restraints. "Whatever you're planning, it won't work. Ronan will kill you—"
"Ronan is going to try." He walks to the stairs. "The question is whether he'll succeed before I kill him. And you get to watch the whole thing, sweetheart. Front row seat to your brother's death."
"No—" I cry out, my voice rising to a screeching pitch, but he's already climbing the stairs. The door at the top opens, and I hear the firefight more clearly now. Shouts. More gunfire. The heavy thud of bodies hitting the floor.
Someone's screaming.
I pull at the zip ties with renewed desperation, the plastic cutting deeper into my already raw wrists.
Please. I don't even know who I'm praying to. Please don't let Ronan die. Please let him be okay.
The gunshots seem to go on forever. I can't tell what’s happening, can't tell how many men are fighting. All I know is that if Desmond is telling the truth, somewhere above me, my brother is in danger. Maybe Elio, too.
And it's my fault.
If I'd never run, if I'd never gone to Elio, if I'd told Ronan the truth—none of this would be happening.
Ronan would be safe.
Elio would be safe.
The baby—
The baby wouldn’t even exist.
But that would be better, wouldn’t it? If things go the way Desmond has planned, the baby is going to die with me. We’re all going to die. Me and Elio and Ronan, in this awful tableau he has planned. All of this will be for nothing.
The gunfire intensifies, closer now. Whoever's fighting has moved toward the basement stairs.
I hear Desmond's voice, shouting orders. Then another voice—
Ronan.
"Where is she?" My brother's roar is unmistakable. "Where's my sister, you son of a bitch?"
"Come and find out! I’ve got her waiting for you. Ready for the show—" Desmond's response is followed by more gunfire.
I scream as loudly as I can. "Ronan! I'm down here! Ronan—"
The door at the top of the stairs bursts open, and someone comes tumbling down. Not falling—thrown. They hit the concrete floor hard and lie still.
One of Desmond's men, I realize. Dead or unconscious.
Then Ronan appears at the top of the stairs, and relief crashes through me so intensely it's painful.
He's alive. He's here.
"Annie!" He starts down the stairs, but Desmond appears behind him, gun raised.
"Ronan, behind you!" I scream.
Ronan spins just as Desmond fires at his shoulder. The shot goes wide, missing by inches, and Ronan returns fire. Desmond ducks back through the doorway, and suddenly they're both firing at each other, Ronan halfway down the stairs, Desmond at the top.
"Get down here!" I'm crying now, terrified. "Ronan, please—"
"Working on it!" He fires three more shots, forcing Desmond back, then rushes the rest of the way down the stairs. He crosses to me in two strides, pulling a knife from his belt. "Are you hurt? Did he touch you?"
"I'm okay." The lie comes automatically. "I'm okay, just get me out of—"
He's already cutting through the zip ties on my wrists. The moment my hands are free, I throw my arms around his neck, sobbing. "You came. You actually came."
"Of course I came." His voice is rough as he cuts the ties on my ankles. "You're my sister. Did you really think I'd leave you here?"
"I thought—I was so scared—"
"I know. I know." He helps me to my feet, and I sway, my legs not quite working after hours in the chair. He catches me, holding me steady. "Can you walk?"
"I think so." But when I try to take a step, my knees buckle.
"Okay, new plan." He sweeps me up into his arms. "Hold on tight."
More gunfire from upstairs, closer now. Ronan heads for the stairs, with me held against his chest with one arm, his gun in the other hand, moving fast despite my weight.
We're almost to the top when Desmond appears in the doorway again, blocking our path.
"Going somewhere?" He's bleeding from a wound on his shoulder, but the gun in his hand is steady. Pointed directly at Ronan's head. “Using your sister as a shield? I thought you were better than that, O’Malley.”
Ronan stops, and I can feel his body tense beneath me.
"Let us pass, Desmond." Ronan's voice is deadly calm. "This is over. My men will kill you if you don’t let us go. Or I will. Whatever you’re doing here, it’s done."
"Over?" Desmond laughs. "It's not over until you're dead. Until she watches you die. Until everyone who wronged me has paid. Until Siobhan is avenged, until I get what I fucking want for once in my fucking life—"
"The only one dying tonight is you." Ronan starts to raise his weapon, but Desmond's gun is already aimed.
"I wouldn't." Desmond's finger tightens on the trigger. "Drop it, or I'll paint the walls with your brain. And Annie gets to watch. I wanted to do this slowly, but I can make compromises."
Ronan hesitates, then slowly lowers his gun. Set it on the stairs.
"Good." Desmond smiles. "Now come up here. Nice and slow."
Ronan carries me up the stairs, each step measured and careful. I can feel his heart pounding against my side, can see the muscle working in his jaw. He's looking for an opening. A way out. Waiting for whoever he brought with him to get through the fray and come to help.
But Desmond's gun never wavers. There’s no opening. No moment where he can get past him, get the jump on him. Desmond might be insane, but he’s come up with a plan, and so far it’s going his way.
We reach the top of the stairs, and Desmond backs up, keeping the weapon trained on us. "Into the main room. Now."
Ronan carries me through the doorway, and I see the carnage. There are bodies everywhere—Desmond's men, some of Ronan's. Blood on the walls, the floor, the furniture. The house reeks of gunpowder and death.
How many people have died tonight because of me? My eyes burn, and my throat is tight. I want to sob, but if I let myself cry now, I don’t know how I’m ever going to stop.
"Set her down," Desmond orders, gesturing with the gun.
Ronan lowers me carefully to a chair, his hands lingering on my arms. "It's going to be okay," he murmurs. "Trust me."
I nod, even though I'm not sure I believe him. I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this. Where are the rest of Ronan’s men? I hear more shots from outside, and I have to hope they’re coming. That we still have a chance.
"There's no justice in revenge." Ronan takes a small step forward.
"You kill me, you kill Annie—it won't bring back what you lost. It won’t fix that Siobhan is gone.
All it'll do is make you a murderer." He holds his hands out placatingly. “I’m sorry for what happened, Desmond. Sorrier than you know.”
“It’s not enough,” Desmond hisses. “How long did it take you to marry someone else? Weeks, after she was in the ground? You hated her. You never loved her. You were glad she was dead.”
“She hated me, too,” Ronan says slowly. “We made a lot of mistakes in our marriage. It was a bad one, from the start. But no, Desmond. I was never glad she was dead. And I would have kept my vows to her.” His voice stays calm.
"It doesn't have to be this way. We can end this.
Right now. You walk away, disappear, and I'll let you go.
No revenge, no retaliation. Just… over."
I don’t know if Ronan’s telling the truth. But I see Desmond’s expression waver. For a moment, I think it might actually work. Think Desmond might actually take the offer.
Then his expression hardens. "You think I'm stupid enough to trust an O'Malley promise? After what, your vows to my sister ended up as? No. This ends with your death. And hers. I wanted her lover to be here, too, but I can take my time with him later. I’m tired of hearing your fucking voice, O’Malley. "
He raises the gun, aiming at Ronan's chest.
"No!" I lunge forward, trying to put myself between them, but Ronan pushes me back.
"Stay behind me—"
The gunshot is deafening in the enclosed space. My ears ring, and I scream, twisting toward Ronan, expecting to see blood, a wound—
But the shot didn’t come from Desmond's gun.
Desmond stumbles forward, his eyes going wide with shock. He looks down at his side, where blood is spreading across his shirt. Then he turns, slowly, to see who shot him.
Elio stands in the doorway, gun raised.
My heart feels like it might stop in my chest.
"Drop it," Elio says, his voice cold and dead. "Now."
Desmond's gun falls from his fingers and clatters to the floor. He sways on his feet, pressing his hand to the wound. "You..."
"Me." Elio steps into the room, his weapon never wavering. "Ronan, get Annie out of here."
"Elio!" I cry his name and try to go to him, but Ronan is already pulling me toward the door.
"Come on. Now." His voice is cold and hard, and my breath catches in my lungs as I realize what that must mean. What Ronan must know.
I resist, trying to look back at Elio, my heart pounding. He came. He’s here. "I need to talk to him—"
"Later." Ronan's grip is iron. "Right now, we need to move."
He sweeps me into his arms and carries me through the house, past more bodies, more destruction. There are men outside—Ronan's men—securing the perimeter. One of them tries to hand a blanket to me, but I shove it away.
"I need to see Elio. I need to—"
"Annie, stop." Ronan turns me to face him, his hands on my shoulders. "Are you hurt? Did Desmond hurt you? The baby—"
He knows. I swallow hard, my heart pounding. "I'm okay." My hand goes to my stomach instinctively. "We're okay. But Elio—I need to talk to him. I need to tell him—"
“You’re not going to say anything to him.” Ronan’s voice is hard. “After what he did to you—”
“What he did to me?” My voice rises, a shocked squawk. “Ronan, he just saved your life! And he didn’t do anything to me! Not anything that I didn’t want—”
“I don’t want to hear this.” Ronan turns away, motioning to one of his men. “We need first aid. Her wrists are cut up. Where’s Desmond?”
I see Elio emerging from the house. He has a gun trained on Desmond, marching him out of the house, four other guards flanking him. “I need help!” he shouts. “He’s going to bleed out, so if you want to fucking question him—”
Ronan reaches for my shoulders, steering me toward an SUV. “We’re going to make sure Desmond is secure, and then you’re going to see a doctor. No questions. Come on, Annie. You need to get out of the cold.”
“But—” I try to protest, but Ronan is gently but firmly ushering me into the car.
He’s in full older-brother mode, making sure I’m safe, getting me warm, getting me inside, and I know I should be grateful for it.
But all I can think is that I need to get to Elio.
I need to talk to him, before Ronan wreaks whatever vengeance he has in mind for everything Elio kept from him.
I’m safe. The baby is safe.
But nothing is going to be okay until I know that Elio will be, too.