25. Chapter 25
Callahan
Three hours earlier
I left Rory at the house, wrapped up in front of the fire. She had curled up with a book and Ebony had brought her a tray of food for dinner. When I left her, reluctance filled my body, weighing me down. She had refused to eat over the last three days at the hospital except for the three bites of jello I had begged her to eat. I was afraid if I left her, she wouldn’t touch the food on the table.
She had lost a little weight. Her eyes were shadowed and blank, glassy and unfocused. Even her hair seemed dull, the shine no longer as present as it used to be.
I kissed her on the forehead and ran a hand over her hair. “I’ll be back in a little while, okay?”
She moved her blank stare from the book in her hands to my face and gave me a small nod.
“Keep your phone by you. And call me if you need anything.” Another small nod. “I mean it, solas. Anything.”
I left her in the study, my steps slow, worry for my wife burning a hole in my chest. I got back in the car we had just vacated and told Seamus, “Take me to Mikhail’s.”
When I arrived, his wife met me at the door, keeping her eyes down and a polite smile on her face. “Mikhail and his associates are in the basement,” she said as she led me through the house. She waved a hand at a door and walked away without so much as another glance, the picture-perfect mob wife. This is what everyone expected my wife to act like, and I was so glad she was the total opposite.
An image of her weak, frail form curled up in the study chair flashed in my mind. I hoped like hell she would be able to move past this.
She will. I will make sure she does.
When I entered the basement, the pleading met my ears first. A sinister smile crossed my face as I glared at the waiter that had poisoned my wife three days ago.
Fyodor stepped away from the kid, who shivered with fear as drool dripped from his swollen mouth. Fyodor wiped his bloody hands on a rag and swiped the sweat from his face.
Mikhail stepped up to me, shaking my hand. “Has he said anything yet?”
“Nothing useful. Just that a man in a suit approached him with an envelope full of money and a small vial of liquid. He took the envelope and was told if he put a few drops of the liquid in Aurora Byrne’s cup, he would receive another envelope with double the amount.”
I removed my jacket and Vadim stepped forward to take it from me. I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt and a pathetic whimper came from the mouth of the man I was going to murder with my bare hands.
On the way back to the house, I called Rory. The phone went straight to voicemail, so I sent her a text. Five minutes later, I tried calling again. And then three more times. With a frustrated breath, I called Ebony.
“Yes, sir?” she answered on the second ring.
“Let me speak to my wife.”
I heard her moving stuff around in the background and then she said, “Of course, Mr. Byrne. I’m headed to the study.”
There was a moment of silence before I heard her knock on the door. “Rory? Mr. Byrne is on the phone for you.” A beat of silence and then she knocked again. “Rory? Sir, she’s not answering. She must’ve fallen asleep. Permission to enter your study?”
I made an agreeable sound while I inspected the reddened skin of my knuckles.
“She’s not in here. She didn’t eat her dinner.”
“Check the bedroom and text me.” I ended the call and told Seamus to drive faster, anxiety stirring my blood.
A few minutes later, Ebony texted.
Ebony: She’s not in bed, either.
Anxiety bled into panic and I barked at Seamus to get us home, immediately. Finn turned from the front seat to look at me, a frown on his face.
“What’s going on?”
“Ebony can’t find Rory,” I growled. Seamus sped up at my words and Finn cursed loudly, pulling his phone out to send texts to the men at the house while I tried to call her again.
It took another thirty-seven minutes and twenty-eight seconds before we reached the house. I was out of the car and running towards the door before the car had completely stopped rolling.
Jogging through the house, I saw men opening doors and calling out the all-clear before moving to the next room. I stopped in the kitchen, wracking my brain for where she would’ve gone. I checked the library, the sun room, the garden in the back, and then back to the study. Climbing the stairs, running my fingers through my hair and pulling the strands hard, I heard one of my men call out, “I FOUND HER!” and ran towards the voice.
Ryan stood in front of the bedroom door, his hands folded in front of him as he blocked the doorway. Connor had his gun trained on him, ordering him to move out of the way, but he refused, standing sentient and grim-faced. When he saw me approach, he met my eyes and dipped his head, his cheeks turning red.
“She is okay, sir. She is-” His eyes flicked to Connor and back to me. “She is in a state of undress, sir, in the bath.”
Rushing to get to my wife, I didn’t even have it in me to be angry that he had seen her naked. I rushed past him and through the bedroom, calling her name. The moment my eyes landed on her, my head swam with relief.
I paused the music playing from the pod on the vanity and knelt beside the tub. Concern washed through me as I saw her swollen, red eyes. I reached out to brush her wet hair over her shoulder and she flinched away from me, sending cold water splashing over my thighs. Something in my chest clenched painfully tight, the hurt spreading through me like needles under my skin.
She was huddled in the tub, shaking and crying, hugging her knees tightly. The bones of her curved spine pressed against the skin of her back, accentuating her weight loss. She was so slight, she didn’t have it to lose in the first place, and even just the few pounds she had lost the last few days had a profound effect.
The pain caused by her flinch morphed into pain for her. I couldn’t fix this for her right now and it was tearing me apart.
I begged her to tell me what happened, why she was falling apart in the tub, whys he didn’t eat, and when she offered no real answers, other than to lie and say she wasn’t hungry, I wrapped her in a towel and carried her to the bed, settling her in my lap and gripping her face with my hands.
“Mo solas, I don’t know how to help you right now and it’s driving me crazy. Please, please, tell me what I can do to help you.” I begged her to tell me something, anything, so that I could help her. This feeling of helplessness was killing me. She gave me a small shrug and I sighed. “Okay, baby. Can you at least tell me why you flinched from me? Or why you weren’t answering any of my phone calls?”
She told me that she’d gotten a text from Fern and rage simmered under my skin as panic lit her eyes, her body tensing. She whimpered and pulled the towel over the bottom half of her face.
“What did that vile soith say to you? I swear to God, I will kill her with my bare hands if she did this to you.” I could barely contain the anger as it bled into my voice.
“She asked me if I was okay.” Wait, what? “She-she told me she couldn’t believe this had happened and asked if…” A shiver sent goosebumps spreading across her exposed skin and I rapidly rubbed my hands over her arms, the terrycloth rasping against my palms. “She said you seemed the most likely suspect.” Her voice was so quiet, I barely heard her.
My heart stopped. Was this why she was so upset? Because she thought I had betrayed her? Pain burst red hot behind my sternum and my eyes burned like I might cry.
“And you believe I could do this to you? You believe I would poison my solas, the day after we were wed?” The pain I was feeling was clear in my voice and I swallowed but the knot in my throat wouldn’t budge.
She didn’t answer but stared into my eyes, looking for what, I didn’t know. Her brow furrowed as she held my eyes, and then her body relaxed into my hold and she licked her lower lip.
“No,” she whispered.
The tightness in my chest eased. The pain I had felt when I thought she had suspected me dulled.
“At first, I thought maybe you could. But I told myself over and over that you didn’t do it. Wouldn’t do that to me.” The pain tried to resurface, but I could see the struggle in her expression, the sadness and worry and confusion, and I fought to hold it back. “I’m sorry, Cal.” The words burst from her like a sob. “I’m so confused and scared.” Her voice broke and something inside me broke with it. She curled into as small a ball as she could while still on my lap and a shiver cascaded down her spine. I resolved then and there that I would do anything to fix this for her. She would not live in fear any longer.
I wrapped my arms around her, trying to lend her my strength while squeezing her tight, soothing her anxiety in the only way I knew how. I pressed my mouth to the crown of her head in a prolonged kiss. I inhaled deeply and whispered into her hair, “I’m so sorry, solas. I’m so sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry I let this happen to you. I made you a promise that you would be safe with me and I broke it. I swear, I will find who did this. I swear it.”
She whimpered and another sob shook her small body.
“When I find out who did this, I will make them pay. I will watch them starve, offering them only food laced with the same poison, until they are so crazed they willingly eat it. I will give them only enough to prolong their pain and only then will I allow them to die.” Vengeance burned in my blood and my fingers itched to find the man that had given the waiter the vial.
I held her and let her cry, feeling every one of her tears like a scalding burn on my skin. I ran my fingers through her hair and murmured to her in Irish, keeping my voice soft while the fingers of my other hand ran up and down the bare skin of her leg. When she finally calmed, her breaths coming slow and deep, I laid her on the bed and stripped to my underwear, wrapping myself around her and holding her tight.