Chapter 11 Sorcha
Sorcha
With my shoulders hunched, my head down, I don’t run, but I walk fast. It has to look like a genuine escape.
Every rustle in the trees, every distant shout, makes the hairs on my arms stand up.
I don’t look back for Cillian. I don’t need to.
I can feel him, a ghost in the periphery, a promise of violence if this goes sideways.
Halfway across campus, I see a cluster of staff members huddled around the entrance to the main building, and I slow down to see what the fuss is about. All eyes turn to me, and I squirm, dropping my gaze as I hurry along, but not before I catch the robes.
The Bishop. Chancellor of St. Bartholomew’s has made a grand appearance, and I’m pretty sure it’s to sit in for the VC.
This isn’t a good sign. I feel their gazes on me, and I hurry along, trying to ignore the crawling of my skin as my old block of flats looms into view when I turn the corner.
The difference to Axl’s townhouse makes me shudder.
Not for the first time, I wonder how I ended up there from here.
Pushing open the door to the building, I take the stairs and then stop outside my flat door.
It’s ajar.
I push it open and then grunt when a hand clamps around my wrist, dragging me inside before a blade sits at my neck from behind.
“Liam,” I rasp.
He doesn’t say anything. He’s waiting. Waiting to see if anyone rushes to my defence.
When no one does, he releases me and kicks the door closed.
I spin, gripping his shirt frantically before burying my face in his chest, willing the tears to come.
I think of Ciar with a bolt in his chest, I think of Axl alone and abducted, I think of Cillian taking the weight of this entire shitshow on his shoulders.
The tears come. Not faked, but real, hot tears of rage and terror that soak the front of his shirt.
His arms come around me, hesitant at first, then with a possessive strength I remember all too well, but choose not to think about. His hand strokes my hair, a gesture that’s meant to be comforting but feels like the bars of a cage closing around me. He’s buying it.
“Shh,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my hair. “I’m here now. Tell me what they did.”
I pull back just enough to look up at him, making sure my eyes are wide and broken. “They’re not who I thought they were,” I choke out, the lie sticking in my throat. “They’re monsters, Liam. What they did to me…” I let the sentence hang, letting his imagination fill in the blanks.
His thumb traces my jaw, and it takes every ounce of my control not to flinch away from his touch.
“I was so stupid,” I whisper, the words a toxic mix of performance and painful truth. “I got scared. I’m all alone.”
The last of the suspicion in his eyes melts away, replaced by a possessive, triumphant fire. “They won’t touch you again,” he promises, his voice dropping to a growl. “I’ll kill them all for you.”
The words are a cold fist clenching in my gut. This is working. Too well. He leans in, his mouth hovering inches from mine. “You’re mine now, Sorcha. You should have just come to me in the first place.”
“I know,” I whisper, and I hate this. I hate this act, this betrayal. “I should’ve listened to you the other day.”
He smiles slowly. “You’re stubborn. It’s one of the things I admire most. It gets you far, Sorcha. But sometimes, you need to ask for help.”
I nod, wishing I could kick him in the balls. “Where can we go? Will your dad accept this? Us?” It’s a gamble. A huge massive one, but I’m not here to fuck about. I need to know what the hell he knows and what he intends to do to those who killed his dad.
His smile tightens. “Dad’s… not around right now.”
Dammit. That doesn’t tell me anything.
“Oh,” I say, letting my face fall with fake disappointment. “When will he be back? I don’t want to cause any trouble for you.”
“You’re not trouble,” he says, his hand sliding from my hair down my back, his thumb pressing into the dip of my spine. “He’ll be… thrilled.”
His gaze is intense, proprietary. He’s staking his claim, and every instinct screams at me to get away from him. He’s in the dark. But leaving now would be too suspicious.
“You don’t sound so sure.” I’m pushing my luck. Seriously pushing it, but I don’t have much choice. I need information. It’s the entire reason I’m here.
He sighs and narrows his eyes. “He’s missing. He went on a mission a couple of days ago and never came back. Neither did his men.”
“What?” I squeak. “What happened?”
“We don’t know. All traces are gone.”
“Do you think he’s…”
Liam shrugs, but I see the flash of victory in his eyes. He hopes his dad is dead.
“Does that make you the head of the family now?” I ask quietly, lowering my eyes. “Can you protect me?”
“I said he was missing, not dead,” he says sharply, and I know I’ve gone too far. “But I can still protect you.”
I’m still not getting anywhere. But how do I turn this conversation around to where I need it to be? “But if he is dead,” I venture. “That makes you powerful.” I gaze up at him, pressing my hands to his chest again.
“If he is dead, I will send a fucking thank you card to whoever the fuck had the balls to take him out,” he says with a low chuckle.
Bingo.
“A thank you card,” I giggle. “You wouldn’t be pissed?”
“Not a fucking chance. This is what I’ve been working towards, what I’ve been craving since I could walk.”
The admission hangs in the air, a confession of ambition so naked it’s almost admirable. I let a slow, seductive smile spread across my lips, my feigned relief so convincing it almost fools me. I slide my hands up his chest, tangling my fingers in the collar of his shirt. “So you’re not angry?”
“Angry?” His laugh is a low, predatory rumble. “Sorcha, I’m fucking ecstatic. I’m free.” He pulls me closer, his grip tightening on my waist. “And so are you.”
I tense up and step back, ready to fight now if needs be. “Liam. Your father is dead. I was there when he was killed.”
His eyes sharpen. “What?”
“I saw it happen,” I say, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “He followed me. He cornered me. It was him or me, Liam.”
His face is a blank mask, but his eyes are burning, processing every word, searching for a lie. “And?”
“And he held a knife to my throat. He died for his efforts.”
He doesn’t flinch. He laughs, a low, genuine sound that sends a shiver down my spine.
He steps closer, crowding me, his body radiating a dangerous heat.
“You’re fucking incredible.” His hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb stroking my cheek.
“You took my crown and handed it to me on a silver platter.”
This is it. The moment of truth. Is he my ally or my new worst enemy?
“So, you’re not going to kill me?” I ask, my voice a breathy whisper.
“Kill you?” He leans in, his lips brushing my ear. “Sorcha, I’m going to make you my fucking queen.”
The door bursts open as it’s kicked in, and I cringe inwardly.
Dammit Cillian.
Only, it’s not Cillian.
It’s Ciar in all his magnificent, fucked up glory, dressed in sweats and a hoodie.
“She already has kings, you little fuckface. And it was me who killed your dad for laying his hands on my queen. You got what you wanted. You got your crown. Now back off my girl before I do to you what I did to your dad.”
I groan, shaking my head. He has just ruined every play I’ve just made to make sure that Liam and the Ahearne family aren’t our enemies.
“For fuck’s sake,” I hiss, stepping away from Liam and rounding on Ciar. “What the hell are you doing? You’re supposed to be resting.”
Ciar’s eyes are locked on Liam, ignoring me completely. He’s a fucking beast held together by sheer will, his hand gripping the doorframe to keep himself upright.
Liam, to his credit, doesn’t flinch. A slow, calculating smile spreads across his face as he takes in Ciar’s state. “So, you’re the one,” he says, his voice laced with a strange mix of amusement and respect. “You don’t look so good, MacMahon. Killing my old man take it out of you?”
“I can still take you out,” Ciar growls, his knuckles white on the doorframe.
I plant my hands on Ciar’s chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the tremor of barely contained violence. “Stop it. This is not the plan.”
“Fuck the plan,” Ciar snarls, his eyes locked on Liam over my head.
“He’s thrilled about his dad, by the way. So can we just take the win and get the fuck out of here before this turns into a bloodbath?”
Liam laughs, a genuine, delighted sound that makes the hairs on my neck stand up. “She’s got a point, MacMahon. We could be allies. Think of the power.”
“I’m thinking of putting your head through that wall,” Ciar retorts.
“Ciar, I swear to God, if you don’t back the fuck down right now, I will handle this, and you won’t like how I do it.”
“So, this was all a lie?” Liam asks, looking more pissed-off than I’d like.
“It was a fact-finding mission,” I correct. “I needed to know if you were going to come for us. Although I see now how you might anyway.”
He snorts. “Well, fuck. You are a devious little bitch, aren’t you? Let’s get a couple of things straight.” He reaches over to slam the door on Ciar’s hand, but Cillian is there to kick it back open so hard the hinges finally give away, and it sags to the side.
Liam smiles. “Figured you’d be lurking. Good, so I don’t have to say this twice. I am not pissed you took out my dad. You handed me a crown I’ve been waiting a long time for. This little shitshow was interesting. It’s a good thing I know what a crap liar you are, Mullen.”
I twist my lips. “You knew I was lying?”
He rolls his eyes. “Please. You couldn’t tell a lie if your life depended on it. You are too much of a straightshooter.”
Cillian and Ciar snicker at that, to my outrage. How dare they side with Liam?
“So? What does this mean?”
“It means I’m over you, Sorcha. I’ve got bigger and better things to move on to. Tell me where I can find him, and I swear you have no problems with the Ahearnes.”
I exchange a glance with the guys. Ciar’s jaw is a hard line of defiance, but Cillian gives a slow, deliberate nod. The enforcer has made a tactical decision. A war with the Ahearnes right now would be suicide.
“There are tunnels,” I say, my voice steady. “Under the altar in the chapel. The way should be clear; we left it all open. He’s over the lake in the chamber at the end, with his men.”
Liam’s smile is sharp, devoid of any real warmth.
It’s the look of a man who just closed a deal.
“A fitting tomb for the old bastard.” He gives me a look, a final assessment that’s all business now, all traces of the would-be lover gone.
“Don’t call me again, Mullen. This is the only favour you get. ”
He turns and walks away without another word, his shoulders back, the new king leaving his old life behind.
Ciar tenses beside me, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “We just let him walk?”
“Yes,” I say, not taking my eyes off Liam’s retreating back. “He’s not our problem anymore. We just bought ourselves a free pass.”
“I don’t like it,” Ciar bites out, but the fight is draining out of him, his face pale with pain and exhaustion.
“You don’t have to like it,” Cillian says, stepping up to brace Ciar’s other side. “You just have to live with it.”
I look between them—one broken and furious, the other bruised and steady. We’re a fucking disaster. But we’re a disaster that’s still breathing.
“Where is Axl?” I ask, having expected him to arrive with a sarcastic quip or two.
“He is with the dads, trying to lock down the legacy in writing. We’re just waiting for the DNA results to come in, and it will be filed with the authorities,” Cillian says.
The DNA results. I’d forgotten all about that. The doctor said twenty-four hours, so that is in a few hours. “What do we do until then?”
“We get Ciar back to the townhouse before he passes out again and hope that Bishop Brady doesn’t spot us while he’s doing his rounds.”
“Yeah, I saw him earlier. Is this good or bad?”
“Good,” Ciar grits out. “It means that whoever the board had lined up for the VC takeover is no longer an option.”
“Robert.”
He nods grimly. “But now we have to wait to see who they put forth instead. Brady won’t want this job for any longer than he has to.”
I nod and prop Ciar up on his other side as Cillian takes the brunt of his weight.
We hobble down the stairs, and I wonder how in the hell Ciar managed to get up here without collapsing.
Not that it matters. All’s well that ends well with regard to this particular situation.
Now, we just have to see what else jumps out at us before we can finally rest.