Chapter 25
Aran
This goes against every fucking instinct I have, makes me want to tear this fucking house apart with my bare hands and burn what’s left, but instead I swallow that violence and build walls around her so thick that even death would need my permission to touch her.
“Did you hear me?” she murmurs.
“Yes, I heard you. I don’t deserve it.”
“No,” she says quietly. “Probably not. But I do.”
That hits harder than it should.
I catch the back of her neck and kiss her once. Hard. Not gentle. Not sweet either. Just enough to put something real between us before I ruin it by speaking again.
Pulling back, I grab the jacket from the bannister where I dumped it and shove it into her hands again. This time, she takes it properly. I move past her and up the stairs, grab the gun where I left it, check the mag, rack it, and tuck it into the back of my jeans.
“We go now?” she asks as I come back down.
I nod. “Last chance to back out.” The look she gives me is scathing, and it makes me smile. “Had to offer, sweetheart.”
I don’t wait for another argument. If I give either of us time, I’ll change my mind and lock her in the bathroom. Aoife has put on the jacket and twisted her hair up to shove under the cap.
I unlock a drawer in the sitting room and pull out a third weapon. Smaller. Easier to handle. I check it, engage the safety, then turn to her.
Her eyes drop straight to the gun. “No.”
“Yes.”
“I literally told you I don’t know how to use one.”
“You also told me you’d figure it out if it was them or you.” I step in close and put it in her hand anyway. “So I’m helping you figure it out.”
She stares at it like it might insult her. “This feels like a bad idea.”
“Most things with you do.” I wrap my hand around hers, adjusting her grip. “Finger stays off the trigger unless you’re firing. You point it where you mean it.”
She nods, taking it in.
I turn her wrist a fraction, fix the angle, then take her other hand and place it under the grip. “Two hands if you’ve got time. One if you don’t. If someone comes at you, you don’t warn them. You don’t hesitate. You shoot until they stop moving.”
Her face pales slightly, but she nods.
“Say it back.”
Her eyes stay on mine. “I shoot until they stop moving.”
“Good girl.”
She glares. “Still hate that.”
“Still using it.” I take the gun back long enough to show her the safety. “This stays on until I tell you otherwise, unless you need it. Then it comes off with your thumb. Like this.” I demonstrate once, then put it back in her hand. “Try.”
She fumbles the first time, swears under her breath, then gets it the second.
“That’ll do.” I take the gun from her again, engage the safety, and hand it back one last time. “Tuck it into your jacket pocket. Not your waistband. You fumble under pressure, you’ll shoot your own ass.”
“That would be a shit end to the day. Literally.”
Trying not to laugh and destroy the seriousness I’m trying to project, I grab my keys and my phone from the hall table. “Come.”
I set the alarm, lock up, and take her through the garage. She stays glued to my side without me having to tell her, one hand in her jacket pocket like she’s checking the weight of the gun every two seconds.
I open the passenger door for her and wait until she gets in. Before I shut it, I dip my head and look right at her. “Seatbelt off when I say. Not before.”
She nods. “Got it.”
I shut the door and circle round, already scanning the street through the garage opening as it lifts. Still clear. Doesn’t mean shit.
I get in, reverse out, and take us away from the house.
The silence in the car is thick for the first minute. I can feel her nerves beside me like a live current. My own aren’t exactly fucking calm. Granville sent enough proof to make this real. A voice note. A video clip.
It’s enough to convince me that Nessa and her mother are up to their necks in this.
“What do I do when we get there?” Aoife asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“Nothing. You don’t speak, you don’t make eye contact. You be the opposite of Aoife.”
“I can do that.”
“Really?” I drawl.
“I can do that when the alternative is chatting with someone who blows things up for a living.”
“I can respect that.”
“I’m serious,” she says. “So I come with you, stick to your side, allow you to shove me around, and I keep my mouth shut and my eyes down.”
“That’s about the size of it, yeah.”
“Got it.” She gives a decisive nod as if this settles it.
Deep down, I’m terrified this is going to end up with her hurt, or worse.
If I start saying the things in my head out loud, she’ll hear too much of it. How close I came to locking her in the fucking house. How badly I want to turn the car around right now. How every junction feels like a bad one when she’s in the seat beside me.
Instead, I drive.
Granville’s text with the meeting location sits on my phone. Underground car park beneath a half-finished office block on the south side. Concrete, blind spots, limited exits.
I change route twice.
Then twice more.
No tails that I can see. Doesn’t mean there aren’t any.
“You’re doing the circling thing again,” Aoife says quietly.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I glance at her.
She’s pale under the cap, mouth set, one hand still in her jacket pocket near the gun. She catches me looking and lifts her chin like she dares her fear to show itself properly.
I pull into the access road for the office block and leave the headlights off before we hit the ramp.
“Seatbelt off,” I say.
I hear the click beside me straight away.
The place is dead. Half-built glass front above us, dark floors, scaffold still up one side. The ramp drops underground into a concrete throat with strip lights every few meters, some dead, some flickering. I hate it on sight.
“Last reminder,” I say, taking the turn slowly. “You stay in the car unless I drag you out myself.”
“I know.”
“If I put my hand on your head, get down.”
She nods once.
I drive to level minus two and spot the car immediately. Dark gray car tucked near the back wall, engine off, driver’s door open. No Granville in sight.
I keep rolling, not too close, scanning pillars, stairwell door, lift core, blind corners. One camera over the exit barrier. Another by the lift. Shit angles. Useless for me, useful for anyone setting this up.
I stop twenty feet away, angled for a fast reverse.
“Aoife.”
“Yeah.”
“Look at me.”
She does.
“Can you drive?”
“Yes.”
“Swap seats with me. If this goes wrong, you don’t wait for me.”
Her face tightens. “Aran—”
“You don’t wait. You drive if you have to. Put it in reverse and fucking go.”
“I can’t just leave you.”
“You can if I tell you.” I hold her eyes until she stops trying to argue with me. “You can,” I say. “You just won’t want to.”
Her throat works. For a second, I think she’s going to fight me anyway, but then she nods once. Tight. Angry. Scared. “Okay.”
“Good.”
I get out first and circle the hood fast, scanning the levels again. Concrete pillars, oil stains, a shopping trolley on its side by the far wall. No movement. No voices. No second car. Doesn’t mean shit.
I open her door. “Out.”
She moves fast. I put my hand on her hip and steer her around the front of the car, blocking her while she gets behind the wheel. She’s breathing too fast, but her hands are steady enough when they hit the wheel.
I leave my door cracked and watch the gray car. A figure steps out from behind it.
Sean Granville. Alone.
He lifts both hands to show me they’re empty of a deadman’s switch. I’m a fool if I believe he doesn’t have one on him.
I draw my gun and keep it low by my thigh. “Turn around.”
He gives me a look as if I’ve insulted him, then turns. Slow. I check his waistband, his back, and his boots as best I can from here.
“Lift your shirt.”
He does.
No bomb vest. No obvious wire. No gun tucked at his spine.
“Now walk forward. Slow.”
He drops the shirt and moves. I keep my body angled between him and the car. Between him and Aoife. Every few seconds, I flick my eyes past him, checking the pillars, the lift core, the stairwell door.
Nothing.
“Where is she?” I ask.
“Nessa?” He stops when I raise the gun a fraction. “Not here.”
“If she is, you die first.”
“I know.”
That gets him another two steps closer before I stop him again. “That’s enough.”
He halts. We’re still several feet apart. Near enough that I can put him down if he tries something.
“You do know that Connor is the one who grants you immunity from…him.” I smirk.
“I know. But you are the liaison. I’ve dealt with you for years, Aran.”
“Are you saying you trust me, Sean? Aww. Sweet.”
“Fuck you,” he growls.
“Careful,” I say. “There is only one person in this world that can tell me to fuck off and I won’t take offense.”
He nods towards the car. “The girl.”
“Woman. And she will run you over with that car if you take another step forward.”
“You trained her quickly.”
“I don’t train her,” I say. “She learns fast when the alternative is dying.”
Sean’s eyes flick past me to the car again. I shift just enough to block his line of sight.
“Give me what you’ve got, and I’ll see what Connor says,” I say.
“Not quite good enough.”
“It’s all I’ve got.”
“Give me your word you won’t track me when I disappear, and I’ll give you this…” He reaches for his pocket, and I raise the gun higher. He freezes.
Then, he reaches into his jacket slowly.
“Easy. Burner,” he says, pulling it out with two fingers and holding it up.
“Going to need to see what’s on it first. On the ground.”
He drops it. It skids over the concrete and stops near an oil stain. I move forward, keeping my aim on his chest, and kick it back toward me. I bend, grab it, and step back again. “Everything is on here?”
He nods.
Keeping my gun level on him, I slide the screen open and check what I can. Recent files. Photos. Voice notes. One video. He wasn’t lying about that much.
“See? Good faith, Aran. Now give me your word.”
“Does it even matter? A man like you knows how to disappear.”
“I could. I will. But looking over your shoulder all the time becomes a bore.”
I can’t argue with that.
“So really this is a formality,” he says. “You’ve already got what you need. I’m just looking for peace.”
“If I let you walk and you come back, I will rain down merry hell on you. You know that, right?”
“Oh, I know. You have my word that I’m out. Take it or leave it.”
I consider my options. I have two.
Take it or leave it.
At this point, I’m just fucked off and worn out with this shit. I want to take Aoife home, keep her safe and have this end… until the next threat comes along.
Most of me thinks it won’t be from Granville. He genuinely looks pissed off with this life. “Where will you go?” I ask.
He smirks. “I’m hardly going to tell you that, but let’s just say somewhere hot and sunny with great views of the ocean.”
“Narrows it down,” I drawl.
He chuckles. “That’s the idea.”
I lower the gun. “You know what, Sean? I’m done with you.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Bold.”
“Go before I change my mind. If this doesn’t pan out the way you say it does… know I will track you down if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Noted. But I’m safe. I’ve given you the goods. Pass it on to the big man, then walk away, Aran.”
He nods once and then gets in the car.
I let him. I let him because, fuck, I’m sick of this posturing. The threats, the sheer shitshow that arrives on my doorstep every day. I envy him being able to drop it all and drive off into the sunset. He sets off, no hurry about him at all, just a man on his way to disappear.
I stride back to the car and get in the passenger seat, gun in one hand, phone in the other. “Drive.”
“I don’t know how to get back to yours,” Aoife says.
“Doesn’t matter. Just drive for now. I need to see what he gave me before I go to Connor with either the biggest mistake of my life or… not.”
She nods and reverses, turning around and heading the same way as Granville. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t ask what happened. She doesn’t question why I let him go, or yell at me for it.
And for all of that, I fall ass over tit for her. If I didn’t realize it already, and only thought of her as mine, now she is everything.