Chapter 51
Samantha
I still can’t believe Killian is here. I feel like I’m having an out of body experience as I watch a cursing, fighting Michael suspended from chains embedded in the basement ceiling.
It’s chilly down here and damp. One hanging bulb is puddling light in the center of the small room.
There’s an old table and two chairs in the corner. Other than that, the room is bare.
My back is pressed against Killian’s chest, his arms wrapped around me. His heat at my bruised back is giving me the courage to look Michael in the eyes. There’s so much I want to say to him, but I know none of it would matter. He has no remorse. No feelings. Nothing can change the monster he is.
We found Rona having dinner in the kitchen under Talula’s guard.
Luckily, she was unharmed. Two of the Italian soldiers headed out and took Talula with them.
Apparently, she’s part of the Amato family.
And after the happy reunion with Rona, we left her in the care of another soldier while we deal with Michael and search for Celia.
Unfortunately, our search of the house was unsuccessful.
Killian presses a kiss to the top of my head and steps around me.
He addresses the soldiers who strung Michael up.
“Thanks, boys. I got it from here if you don’t mind joining my lads outside.
” He shakes their hands, still holding mine.
He hasn’t stopped touching me in some way since he got me away from Michael.
Suddenly we all freeze as a noise echoes from deeper in the basement.
I stop breathing and cock my head. I notice Killian does the same. It comes again. A soft, keening cry.
Killian taps one of the men on the shoulder, points to Michael. “You stay. Watch him.” Then the rest of us move cautiously down the hallway, through a second empty room and eventually out into a third. There’s barred cells in this one.
Killian nudges me behind him.
It’s dark. The smell of mold and rot permeates the stale, biting air.
“Search for a light,” Killian instructs.
A moan echoes from the depths of the dark cells. “Someone is in there,” I whisper to Killian. Could it be Celia?
The soldier finds a string hanging from the ceiling and pulls it. Yellow light floods the room.
The five of us move forward, checking the first cell. I gasp. There are bones scattered on the brick floor. A skull. Human bones. I turn away, gripping the back of Killian’s shirt as he curses and moves to the second cell. This one is empty.
A weak moan comes from the last cell.
We hurry forward.
And I cry out, “Celia!”
She’s there, her head propped against the damp brick wall, her eyes barely open, too weak to move. She’s gaunt and still in the same clothes she was wearing when she sacrificed herself at the gas station. One cheekbone has an ugly yellow bruise. But she’s alive. My knees buckle with relief.
Killian tugs on the padlock then rattles the door. “We’ll need to find a key,” he says to the men. “I saw a keyring hangin’ by the door at the top of the stairs.” As they hurry off, Killian leans down and presses his forehead against the bars. “We’re gonna get you out, love. You injured?”
I squat beside Killian and grip the bars. “Oh, Celia. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
She doesn’t move, but she tries to smile. “Glad… to… see you, Mama,” she breathes out, her voice barely a whisper. “Rona?”
I nod quickly, tears blurring my vision. “She’s fine. She’ll be so happy to see you.”
The men return with the keyring. It seems like forever, but is probably less than a minute until two soldiers are gently gripping Celia beneath each armpit and lifting her off the cement floor.
She moans. I rush in and rest a hand on her back, taking in the dark, damp cell she’s been living in with horror.
A bucket in the corner. No water, no food in sight.
He had to be giving her at least water for her to survive this long.
But to keep an elderly woman in these conditions.
This is beyond cruel. He doesn’t see anyone as human.
There’s a heat building in my chest that feels like flames licking up my neck, setting my face on fire. I grind my teeth as one of the men finally sweeps her off her bare feet and carries her toward the stairs.
At the bottom, Killian say, “Get her to a hospital.”
I squeeze her freezing hand and promise her we’ll see her there in a bit.
When it’s just me and Killian left, he turns and cups my face. His eyes search mine. “You all right?” His thumbs stroke my cold cheeks. “Maybe you should go with her, love.”
I know what he’s saying. Whatever he’s about to do to Michael, he doesn’t think I should see it. I don’t blame him after the way I reacted when he gutted Ernesto Torres.
But this is different. This is my devil.
My burden. The man who kidnapped, raped and tortured me.
The man who kept my daughter from me. He won’t leave this earth without me giving him some of that pain in return.
He thinks he broke me. Damaged me. Made me weak.
He didn’t. I need to prove that to myself if I’m going to get past this and have a normal life.
I push up on my toes, seal my mouth against Killian’s. The warmth, the comfort, the courage I get from him is immeasurable. When I pull away, I say, “I need him to know he didn’t break me. That I’m going to have a happy life after he’s gone.”
Killian searches my eyes. Then he nods once. “If that’s what you need, Sam, that’s what I’ll give ya.”
He interlaces our fingers, and we walk back into the room where a furious Michael is struggling against the chains. We’re a united front. A team. I remember when Killian told me I wouldn’t be facing my devil alone anymore. He’s about to keep his promise.
Michael glares at us. “You may have won this round, but the war you’ve started will be your undoing. You’re nothing but a low class thug, Donnelly. You have no idea whose money you’re messing with. Let me go now and they may kill you quickly.”
Killian snorts, then ignores him as he has a short conversation with the last Italian soldier before he’s dismissed.
He then leads me over to the far wall. Uncertainty pinches his expression as he says, “Last chance. You’re sure you want to be here for this?”
I nod. Then watch in fascination as the rage bleeds into Killian’s eyes, darkening them right before he turns away from me.
Silently he pulls his henley over his head, tosses it on the floor and stalks over to stand in front of Michael. I admire the cut of bulging muscle rippling beneath a large Celtic cross tattoo as he rolls his shoulders and curls his fists at his side.
He stretches his neck from side to side. His voice is lethally calm as he says, “I haven’t seen Sam’s injuries yet, but I know they’re there. Such a big man beatin’ on a woman, yeah?”
I blink in surprise. Michael has the good sense to keep quiet, but I can see the arrogance in his eyes. In the curve of his mouth.
Killian must see it, too. “Oh, you think you’re the monster in the room, mate?
” He chuckles, but it’s a sound that raises the hair on my arms. “You fed off her fear, now I’m going to feed off yours.
I’m going to show you what a real monster is.
” Killian steps forward and grabs Michael’s hand.
One by one, he twists each finger until they snap. “This is for layin’ your hands on Sam.”
Michael grits his teeth, swallows the pain, but it’s there in his paling complexion, the heavy rise and fall of his breath and the sweat beading on his forehead. His smirk is gone.
Once Killian is done breaking all ten fingers, he steps back and throws his fist into Michael’s side. I hear an audible crack of his ribs.
Michael can’t stop the howl of pain that erupts from his throat. I don’t think he’s ever been punched in his life. He’s led a pampered life, one of undeserved power and respect. And being hit by one of Killian’s power punches isn’t the place to start taking your first beating.
Killian’s fists land one blow after another in a flurry of bone crushing strikes to Michael’s midsection, and as Michael loses the battle to keep his pain in check and chokes out pleas for Killian to stop, I can’t help but see the beauty of Killian’s body in motion.
The precision, the power he’s unleashing is like deadly poetry.
A force of nature, the gathering black storm clouds unleashing their fury in strike after powerful strike of lightning-fast brutality.
I find myself drawing closer. I want to taste the power he has in this moment.
I want to feel it wrapped around me, running through me.
I want to know what it feels like to hurt Michael like he’s hurt me.
Killian must sense me behind him. He turns, his bare chest shiny with sweat, and heaving with effort and rage, his eyes glittering with the promise of more pain to come. I have never seen a more beautiful human in my life. He’s not a monster; he’s a weapon, an avenging angel. My avenging angel.
All the emotion I’m feeling rises to clog my throat as Killian watches me. Then, almost as an afterthought, he spins and delivers a blow to Michael’s jaw that sends blood and teeth flying.
I step forward and grip Killian’s wrists.
Look down at his hands. The scabs on his knuckles are busted open and seeping blood.
I bring them to my mouth and press kisses on them.
Soft, reverent thank yous for bleeding for me, for being the man I need in this moment.
His blood is warm and sticky on my lips.
He reaches out and wipes at my lip with his thumb.
His gaze travels down my body and then back up to my face as his nostrils flare.
He rubs the hem of my dress between his bloody fingers then leans down and kisses me, long and deep, his tongue sweeping against mine, urgent and hungry, igniting a fire in my core.