Chapter 49
AOIFE
Ipace the living room at Dominic’s house, our house, I suppose, trying—and failing—not to think about where my husband is going and what he’s going to do.
We were only gone for two weeks, but I feel like an entirely different woman to the one who left this house for the Shelbourne. I feel… stronger, surer… and something I never expected to feel in this house: settled.
The house is quiet.
Too quiet.
A shiver ripples over my spine.
I wander into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water, forcing away images of what’s happening ten miles away in some dark, dingy warehouse.
Dominic warned me he wasn’t a good man.
But he is my man.
And he’s doing what has to be done.
But the thought makes my stomach twist. The security cameras blink softly in the corners of the ceiling.
Little red lights reassuring me that someone is always watching.
There are multiple men surrounding the property, guarding the gates.
Matt and Dylan, and Logan. Dominic’s house might look like a glass palace, but it’s a fortress.
I take a sip of water and stare out into the dark garden. The trees sway gently in the wind. The pool glitters invitingly beneath the moonlight. The stars twinkle against the dark navy sky.
I glance down at my yoga pants and sweater. I should go shower before Dominic comes home. I pull my phone from my pocket and glance at the screen. I’ve had no word from him yet. He said he’d call me when it was done. A sigh whooshes from my lips. The waiting is killing me.
Then every light in the kitchen flickers.
Once.
Twice.
Then the house is plunged into darkness. My feet root to the spot. Fear creeps over my skin and into my bones. Frankie’s threat from earlier races through my mind. She can’t walk away from this family. She knows too much.
Did he send Dom to deal with Kavanagh so he could kill me?
No. He wouldn’t need to kill the lights for that. He’d simply stroll in and take the shot.
Voices outside pierce the silence. They’re hushed, male, foreign.
My heart hammers like a war drum in my ribcage.
I dart towards the kitchen doorway, towards the panic room beside Dominic’s office, but I don’t make it three steps before the back door explodes inwards.
Glass shatters, showering the kitchen in fragmented splinters.
Two men surge in clutching compact black handguns with a long metal tube attached to the barrel. Both are dressed head to toe in black. Gloves cover their hands. Balaclavas cover their faces.
I open my mouth to scream, but one of the men’s hands clamps over it before the sound leaves my throat. He prises my phone from my fingers and grabs my wrist. The glass in my hand hits the floor.
‘No point fighting us, princess,’ a voice murmurs in accented English.
The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills my lungs as I struggle against him, but he’s strong. Too strong. My elbow drives backward, but he barely moves. The other man moves fast, snapping plastic ties around my wrists.
My pulse thunders in my ears. ‘Where are the guards?’ I choke as the hand leaves my mouth.
The man behind me chuckles softly. ‘Dead.’
I freeze.
‘Beautiful house,’ the second man says calmly. ‘Predictable security rotation though.’
Cold dread spreads through my chest. Who the hell are they? My blood runs cold. I thrash suddenly, panic exploding through me. ‘Dominic will kill you,’ I spit.
The man only shrugs, then pulls something black from his back pocket—a hood. ‘Perhaps.’
He pulls it over my head. The material scratches my skin, plunging me into suffocating darkness. ‘Or perhaps I’ll kill him,’ he says softly. ‘Then you. Now fucking move.’
I stumble as he yanks me forward. My bare feet slide across the cold kitchen tiles. White-hot panic burns my chest as I try to twist away, but the barrel of a gun presses hard into my ribs.
‘Don’t do anything stupid now,’ the voice murmurs beside my ear.
My heart slams against my ribs as they drag me in the direction of the double doors they burst in through.
I hear the crunch of glass beneath their boots, feel the sting of sharp shards piercing the soles of my feet.
The memory of Dom cleaning them, that first day in his bar bursts into my brain, and hot tears well at the backs of my eyes.
The cold night air rushes over my skin as they drag me around to the front of the house. Goosebumps tear along my arms and legs as gravel bites into the soles of my feet. I gasp as sharp stones dig into my skin, but the men holding me don’t slow.
‘Stop fighting,’ he mutters.
Somewhere close by a car engine is running, low and steady. Another voice speaks—fast, sharp, unfamiliar. Spanish, I think. The urge to vomit rises in my ribs. More footsteps approach. I think there are at least two more men.
A car door opens with a dull metallic thunk.
‘Rápido,’ someone says.
Petrol fumes hang thick in the air, along with the scent of cigarette smoke.
I hear the creak of metal. Strong hands grab my waist. I scream as I’m hoisted off the ground and shoved into the boot.
The space is small and tight. I kick and fight, but it’s futile.
Someone pushes my legs in roughly and the lid slams shut above me with a deafening bang.
Darkness presses in. The air feels thin. Outside the car doors slam one after another. Four of them. The engine revs and the car lurches forward.
I curl onto my side, my bound wrists digging painfully into my back as the vehicle speeds away from the only safe place I’ve known in years.
Tears slide silently beneath the hood, soaking into the rough fabric as I battle to breathe, to think, to try not to imagine what these men might do to me.
My chest shakes as another sob escapes.
Please, Dominic.
Please find me.
Please.