Chapter 34
Sorcha
Ipull away from Axl and trudge forward, my clothes soaked and heavy. There is an old chest, this one made of wood, on the far side, and I move towards it like I’m drawn to it by a magnet. The guys give me space as I kneel, but when I reach for the lid, Ciar stops me.
“Wait,” he says. “It could be trapped.”
I nod and wait impatiently as he checks it over for anything obvious.
“Guys,” Cillian whispers, but before he can get any further, a group of men swarm into the room behind us, flashlights bright and making spots dance before my eyes.
“What the hell?” I yell, rising and turning around. “Stop shining that in my face, you arsehole!”
The light drops just enough for me to blink hard to clear the spots and put my hand up to block the glare.
“Miss Gannon,” he says. “What do we have here?”
Frowning, I glance at Axl before staring back at the man speaking. “Who the fuck are you?”
“James Ahearne,” he says, and my blood runs cold.
Liam’s dad, the infamous head of the Ahearne crime family, who will slice and dice your arse as soon as look at you.
“What do you want?” Ciar asks, pressing so close to me, he knocks me off balance.
Luckily, Cillian is on my other side to prop me up.
“What do I want?” he repeats. “The Gannon girl, for one. Secondly…” he peers around us. “Whatever you came down here to find.”
He doesn’t know. He followed us because, why wouldn’t he if he was watching us?
“Didn’t come down for anything,” I say. “Just a nice swim in a warm lake.”
He moves closer, tilting the flashlight upwards and inwards, so I can see his face. Liam is definitely his son. “Is that right?”
“That’s right,” Ciar says, “so move along before things get ugly.”
James Ahearne shifts his gaze to the mammoth on my right side. “Ciar MacMahon. I’ve heard good things.”
“Have you now? Can’t say the same about you.”
James smirks and flicks his head. The four guys behind him, none of them Liam, move forward, ready to fight this out if it comes to that.
I have no doubt it will. Cillian is already reaching for his blade, as is Axl.
Ciar is still standing, feet planted, muscles bulging, looking as menacing as fuck.
All I can think about is: what’s in the fucking chest.
Talk about inappropriate when we have bigger issues to deal with.
“You’re not touching her,” Axl says, his voice dangerously low. His blade glints in the wavering flashlight beams.
Ahearne laughs, a sound like gravel grinding. “Brave words, Rhodes. But there are four of you and five of us. The odds are not in your favour.”
“I like those odds,” Cillian growls, stepping forward slightly, creating a wall with his body next to Ciar’s.
While they’re busy with their dick-swinging contest, I take a step back. Not in fear, but towards the chest. If I’m going to die down here, I’m at least going to know what I’m dying for.
My movement catches Ahearne’s eye. “Ah, ah, ah, Miss Gannon. Don’t touch.”
I’m soaking wet, surrounded by enemies, and on the verge of either finding a fortune or getting myself killed. But I didn’t get married to Axl for nothing. Whatever this is, it’s mine.
Ahearne’s smirk vanishes. “Grab her.”
The men surge forward. The small chamber explodes into chaos.
Ciar roars, a fucking animal unleashed, and meets the first man with a crunch of bone.
Cillian lunges, his knife finding a home in someone’s side.
Axl spins, his blade a silver arc in the dark.
The clash of metal on metal and fists on flesh echoes around the chamber as I pull out my Bessie and face off with one of Ahearne’s men.
He slashes out at me, and I twist away, the steel scraping against the stone wall where my head just was.
I don’t give him time to recover. I lunge forward, low and fast, driving Bessie up under his ribs.
He grunts, stumbling back, his eyes wide with surprise.
The dropped flashlights beams cut through the darkness. Ciar lifts a man off his feet and slams him into the wall. Axl moves swiftly, his knife leaving red trails in its wake. Cillian is just pure, brutal efficiency, dispatching his opponent with a final, vicious twist of his blade.
My guy comes at me again, clutching his side. I duck under a wild swing, my bare foot connecting with his knee. There’s a sickening crack, and he stumbles. I don’t hesitate. I bring the hilt of my knife down hard on the back of his head, and he slumps forward.
I step back, and strong arms wrap around me, pinning my arms.
I slam my head back, connecting with a solid jaw. Ahearne grunts, but his grip only tightens, one arm banding across my chest like iron, the other bringing a blade to my throat. The cold steel kisses my skin, a promise of death.
“Let her go,” Ciar roars, his voice bouncing off the stone walls. He takes a step forward, the bodies of Ahearne’s men a testament to the carnage he just created.
“Stay back,” Ahearne snarls, pressing the knife harder. A thin line of warmth trickles down my neck.
Axl and Cillian move closer to Ciar, their blades dripping with blood, their expressions murderous. They’re frozen, a triangle of lethal intent held in check only by the blade at my throat.
“What’s in the chest?” Ahearne demands, his mouth close to my ear.
“No fucking idea.”
“You came down here for whatever is in there.”
“And?”
“Open it.” He shoves me onto my knees, his hand twisting in my hair and yanking tightly enough for me to grunt.
Ahearne is hurting me, and that’s the only thing that Ciar needs to hear.
He moves. It’s not a lunge or a charge; it’s an explosion of silent violence. Ahearne flinches, his grip on my hair faltering for a split second.
It’s all the opening I need.
I slam my elbow back into his dick, hard.
He grunts, the air leaving his lungs in a surprised whoosh.
The knife at my throat wavers, and I twist, bringing Bessie up in a vicious arc, slicing through the meat of his thigh.
He grunts, a sound of pain and rage, and shoves me away.
I stumble, catching myself on the edge of the chest.
Ciar slams Ahearne to the ground before he drops on him, a fucking freight train of muscle and death. His fist connects with Ahearne’s jaw with a sickening crack. Axl and Cillian are there a second later, a wall of brutal intent, cutting off any chance of escape.
Ahearne is on the ground, Ciar’s fist smashing into his face again. “No one hurts her and lives.”
I should stop this. Ciar killing the head of the Ahearne family by beating him to death is a bad idea.
But I can’t bring myself to. So, I haul myself to my feet and watch as Ciar kills James Ahearne.