Chapter 31
Dervla
The last of the students dissipate as evening now falls into night. Troy won’t be too far away now, and we can end him once and for all. I stand by the window in my office and watch the last of the daylight bleed out over campus stone.
The grounds look almost peaceful from up here.
That is the danger of old places. They know how to wear innocence over rot.
“We need him inside,” Aidan says. “Not on the grounds. Not out in the open.”
“I know.”
Declan stops pacing. “Then where?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “He will die before he’s got two feet onto the campus.”
“You want to go out?” Cormac asks.
“Yes. Standing here waiting for him to roll up is just stupid and annoying.”
“Fuck, I love you,” he murmurs, pulling me closer. “Got a change of clothes?”
I shake my head. “We go back to the house, and I’ll change.”
“Let’s go,” Aidan says. “Quickly, if you expect this maniac plan to work.”
“It will work,” I say confidently and turn from the window, leading the guys out of the office and down the stairs.
We cross campus quickly in the dark, alert to all sounds and movement.
Nothing jumps out at us, and we make it back to the house in record time.
I run upstairs, stripping as I go and drag on leggings, a sports bra that avoids the worst of the cuts and a tight tee for easy movement.
I pull on my boots and stash Henrietta and the gun that I lifted from Ronan, which is now mine, in the back of my leggings and bolt back downstairs, tying my hair up into a bun.
Declan’s hazel eyes give me a once-over, and then he gives an approving nod.
We head back out into the night, at a slower pace this time. Headlights flash, and a car turns onto the road behind us. We turn to see another two follow.
“Okay. Are you sure this was the wisest plan?” Aidan asks.
“You armed?” I ask, instead.
He scoffs. “Always.”
“Then quit whining and start aiming.”
The first car brakes hard enough to make the tyres squeal.
The second stops behind it. The third angles across the lane, trying to box the space.
The front passenger door of the lead car opens. A man in a dark coat gets out first, scanning the road. Another follows from the rear. Both armed. Both careful.
Then Troy steps out.
He shuts the car door with his good hand and looks straight at me across the road like we arranged a date instead of an execution.
“Well,” he calls. “This is flattering.”
I draw my gun and level it at his chest. “You made good time. Traffic light?”
“What is with you and small talk?” Delcan mutters.
“It’s atmospheric,” I state.
Aidan shifts to my right. Declan to my left. Cormac stays half a step in front of me.
Troy’s men spread. Not rushing. Not stupid. Two more get out of the second car. Another pair from the third.
Eight.
Maybe more still inside.
Troy glances at the four of us and smiles. “I expected a building full of defenders,” he says.
“Fuck off,” I say, and fire. The shot cracks through the dark. Troy moves fast, ducking back as one of his men shouts. Chaos detonates all at once.
“You were saying?” I shout to Declan as we scatter, using the shrubbery and old oaks as cover.
“Jesus, Dervla!” Aidan shouts back. “A bit of a warning would’ve been nice!”
Gunfire tears up the quiet road. Bark bursts off a tree trunk near my head as I dive behind a massive tree. Dirt spits up over my boots.
Troy’s men are disciplined. That is the first problem.
The second is that Troy himself is gone from sight.
“Left side,” Cormac barks.
I risk a glance and catch movement by the second car.
One of the men is advancing low with a handgun, and another has taken position by the open rear door, using it as cover.
I fire twice. The first shot goes wide. The second takes the man at the door in the throat, which was pure luck on my part.
He drops fast, hands flying up too late.
“Nice,” Declan shouts from somewhere to my left, then his gun starts up in brutal, controlled bursts.
Aidan is quieter. More precise. One shot. Pause. Another. Somebody grunts.
“Where the hell did Troy go?” I mutter to myself and then spot him, running around the perimeter of the gunfight. This isn’t going to last much longer. The Gardaí will be here because someone would have called them the second they looked out of the window and heard the shots.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it. I get the gut feeling it’s Séamus, and I don’t need the distraction of his questions right now. Another shot cracks past me and bites into the tree.
“Move,” Cormac says, diving into view.
I break cover and sprint low across the grass verge, boots skidding on damp earth. More shots rip through the dark. One of the car windows explodes. Somebody is shouting. Somebody else is choking.
Troy is still moving.
That is all I care about.
I cut towards the side path that runs between the old stone wall and the stand of trees, trying to get ahead of him. He is fast. Faster than I gave him credit for. He keeps low, uses the shadows, keeps his head. Not panicking. Not flailing. Deliberate.
I stop, level the gun, aim somewhere in his direction and fire.
The bullet whizzes over his head, and he ducks further, but keeps moving. He is headed for somewhere very specific, and his guys are the distraction. “Move!” I roar at them and take after Troy like I’m bulletproof.
My guys follow me without question. They leave the distraction team floundering as we all move after Troy. He ducks around the back of the library, fortunately for everyone involved, away from the chapel. I’ve seen that place more times than I’d like to in the last month.
The library looms to my right, with old stone and shut windows, the path narrowing as Troy cuts behind it. He is not running blind. He knows where he’s going. That pisses me off more than the shooting.
“He’s heading for the service road,” Aidan snaps behind me.
“No shit,” I fire back, lungs burning as I sprint harder.
My boots hammer the path. Henrietta digs into my lower back. The gun is slick in my hand from sweat and rain. I tighten my hold and keep moving.
Troy glances back once.
That one look tells me everything.
He is not escaping.
He is drawing us.
“Stop,” I bark.
Too late.
A van tears around the side road with its headlights off and then swings hard across the path ahead, blocking the way. The side door is already open.
“Down!” Cormac roars.
I throw myself sideways just as automatic gunfire rips from the van. Stone chips explode off the library wall. A window blows out above us. Glass rains down. I hit the ground hard, shoulder first, and roll behind a low stone planter at the edge of the path.
My elbow slams into the stone. Pain shoots up my arm. I keep the gun and drag myself tighter behind cover as more rounds chew into the planter and the gravel around it.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
Cormac drops in behind the next bit of wall, close enough for me to hear him breathe. Aidan hits the ground behind an old bench base. Declan disappears somewhere to my left and then fires back, fast and ugly, forcing the gunman in the van to duck.
Troy is nowhere in sight.
Of course he fucking isn’t.
I push up enough to look. Bad idea. A bullet punches through the stone lip above my head and showers grit into my hair. I drop back at once, heart slamming hard against my ribs.
Automatic fire. Van. Extra men. A blocked path.
“We need to move,” Cormac says.
“Where?”
“Back. Sideways. Anywhere that isn’t directly in front of that fucking van.”
Declan pops up from behind a tree and empties his handgun towards the van, shouting, “Move your arses!”
I don’t need telling twice.
I shove up from behind the planter and sprint low towards the library wall.
Gunfire tears the gravel apart behind me.
A round smacks into stone inches from my leg.
Another whines past my ear. Cormac is suddenly there, a wall of dark violence at my side, covering me as I dive behind a jut of old masonry where the library extension meets the main building.
Aidan slides in on my other side a second later, breath hard, face set.
Declan crashes in behind a tree across the path and fires again, keeping the van team pinned for one more second. One more second is all Troy needs to disappear completely.
“No,” I hiss, peering around the edge of the wall.
The van blocks the path, side door open, muzzle flashes bursting from the dark inside. Two men outside. One by the bonnet. One half behind the open door. I cannot see Troy anywhere.
Which means he is exactly where he wants to be.
“He’s gone around,” I say.
Cormac’s eyes cut to me. “Don’t.”
“He has. This is cover for something else. He wants us fixed here while he gets into the building.”
Declan fires again from his tree, forcing the man at the bonnet back.
I look along the library wall. Old stone. Narrow maintenance strip. A gate further down that opens towards the rear quad if it is not locked. If it is locked, I shoot the chain or climb the bastard.
“We split,” I say.
“No,” Cormac says at once, probably having expected it.
“Yes. You three keep these fuckers busy. I cut around and go after Troy.”
“The fuck you do.”
I turn on him, fury slicing straight through the gunfire. “If we all stay here, he gets what he wants. If we all go, they shoot us in the back. I’m the fastest route to him because he’s expecting one of you to stop me.”
“That is not an argument I enjoy hearing,” Aidan says.
“Good. Cover me anyway.”
Another burst tears into the stone above us. Chips hit my cheek. I flinch and wipe grit away with the back of my hand.
Declan shouts, “Any time now, sweetheart.”
I point down the wall. “There’s a gate. I get through. You two push fire at the van. Aidan, watch the flank in case more come round. Declan, keep being a complete psycho. Cormac, count to three and then let me go.”
Cormac stares at me like he is deciding whether to knock me unconscious instead.
“Absolutely not.”
“Then Troy gets away.”