Taryn
I stop just shy of the east gate. My fingers hover over my phone. I want to check out my surroundings before I text Liam. Or Gráinne. I haven’t decided who to reach out to yet. I’m still on campus. There are plenty of people around.
“Hey, there you are.” Timmy’s voice cuts through the quiet. I turn to see him jogging up casually like we’re old friends meeting for coffee.
I try to smile. “Got your message. Just seemed sudden.”
“Yeah, things are moving fast,” he says, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. “We got word of increased chatter. Rowan wants you somewhere safer for a few days.”
Before I can respond, a new voice enters the conversation.
“What’s going on, Timmy?” Gráinne’s tone is deceptively light, but her eyes flick between us with sharp precision. She walks toward us slowly, deliberately, like she’s trying not to spook a wild animal.
Timmy doesn’t flinch. “Nothing serious, miss. Just a precaution. I’m taking Taryn off campus.”
Gráinne tilts her head, smile fixed. “Rowan must have forgotten to mention that. Seems like campus would be a much safer place.”
Timmy’s jaw tics, but he covers quickly. “I’m only following orders. They must have discovered a new threat.”
She stops beside me. I watch the muscles in her shoulders tense—just enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand up. She doesn’t believe him.
“Yes, it’s hard to tell where new threats will come from.” She puts her arm around me and angles my body away from Tim. “Come on, Taryn,” she says softly. “Let’s call Liam first, make sure he’s in the loop before you head off anywhere.” Her eyes implore me to begin walking away.
I take a step forward.
Timmy moves faster.
I freeze when I feel cold steel press into my ribs.
“Sorry, ladies,” he mutters. “Change of plans.”
Gráinne goes rigid. Her hand twitches but stops. I know exactly what she was about to do. But she won’t reach for her own weapon. Not with a gun pressed to me.
“You’re not going to make it out of here,” she says, voice low. She plays with her necklace. “I’m begging you to rethink this. You are making a very big mistake, Tim.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Timmy shrugs. “But I’m going to try.”
“You’ve served the clan a long time,” she reasons. Her voice is soft. She sounds sad, as if she is on his side. “Please don’t betray us now. It’s not going to end well for you. I don’t want that.”
He pauses, listening to her siren’s voice, almost like he wants to be understood.
“Rowan’s not fit to lead. He’s too soft.
He’s a kid playing boss while the Greeks eat our territory alive.
Someone had to do something. This”—he jerks his chin toward me—“is leverage. And it might be the only shot we’ve got to stop them from burning it all down.
Once I deliver her, the Greeks will sell her off. ”
Gráinne’s voice drops. Goes cold. “You think allowing them to sell Liam’s wife is going to save the clan?”
Dear God. I’m going to throw up.
“I think loyalty means more than blood,” he growls. “And right now, too many of us are following a name, not a leader. Once she’s gone, the alliance will crumble. We’ll be forced to pick a new leader. That, Miss O’Toole, is what our clan needs.”
He backs us the final few steps to the car. “This isn’t personal. It’s business. The kind the old guard would’ve respected.”
Gráinne’s jaw is tight. “Funny. The old guard didn’t respect cowards. Or traitors. I’m afraid you’re going to learn that the new guard doesn’t care for them much either.”
My entire body is trembling but my friend just looks pissed off. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such fury in her blue eyes.
Tim pushes me against the black sedan parked nearby. I move stiffly, every nerve on fire, my eyes locked on Gráinne. Her gaze meets mine. Controlled. Calculating. She gives me a stiff nod, telling me to go along with it. That’s fine with me, because I really don’t see another option.
Timmy opens the rear door with one hand and forces me inside with the other. He climbs in behind me, shouting orders at the driver. The second the car is in motion, Gráinne moves.
I watch from the rear window as she sprints. Gun drawn.
I hear her gun fire. The rear tire explodes. The car rocks with the force.
Timmy curses as the car swerves, then shouts commands in Gaelic to the driver. We all duck for cover as Gráinne fires another shot—this time at the front tire. The car screeches to a jerky halt as the men grab their guns.
I’m trapped inside, too shocked to move.
Timmy swings open his door on the other side of the vehicle, gun raised. “You’re dead, you bitch!” he roars, firing wildly in Gráinne’s direction.
I watch in awe through the open car door as she darts behind a tree, then rolls into a low crouch behind a bench. Calm, trained. Holy shit. She’s trained. She does know exactly what she’s doing. I mocked her earlier. Jesus Christ.
“Come out!” Timmy shouts.
A car engine revs in the distance.
Then another.
I press my face to the window just as a silver BMW skids into view, maybe four hundred feet away, followed by a matte-black SUV. It’s as if reality distorts, each movement unfolding with agonizing clarity.
Doors fly open.
Rowan is the first out, shouting orders, gun already drawn. His loud voice echoes, drawing the attention—and the gunfire—of one of the men in the car.
Then, I see Luca, moving like a storm across the quad. It’s as if the massive guy thinks he’s bulletproof, barreling toward Timmy, all muscle and fury, with nothing but rage in his eyes and zero regard for the gun the man is holding.
Then, I see him: Liam. He jumps out of the SUV but doesn’t say a word. He moves with purpose, eyes tracking everything—me in the car, Gráinne behind the bench, Timmy’s attention shifting from Rowan to Luca, who’s charging at him.
That’s when I hear it—another shot, but not from Timmy.
There’s someone else.
A second man, one in the passenger seat of the car, leans out the window with a silenced pistol. He fires toward the bench, where Gráinne ducks just in time.
“DOWN!” someone screams, and I duck just as more shots ring out.
Glass shatters beside me. I cover my head. I hear the man in the passenger seat make an awful gurgling noise.
When I look up again, Liam’s at the car, yanking open the back door.
“Taryn!”
“Here,” I gasp.
“Out. Now.”
I scramble toward him, and he pulls me into his chest, one arm locking around me as he pivots, putting his body between mine and the chaos. I put my head into his shoulder as he fires his gun. A thud sounds and I turn to see the driver of the vehicle slump dead over the steering wheel.
Across the quad, Rowan fires again, and Timmy whirls toward the noise—he’s distracted for half a second, aiming toward where Rowan’s crouched behind a tree.
Too late. Luca comes from the side like a freight train. Tackles him. Hard.
They hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud, Luca’s fist already flying before they land. A gun clatters across the sidewalk.
Rowan is already there, shoving a knee into Timmy’s spine, shouting for zip ties. Two guys I don’t know are trying to pull Gráinne’s fiancé off him in order to obey Rowan’s command.
And behind us, Gráinne jogs up, blood on her thigh, grinning like she just won gold. It takes Luca seeing her bleeding to make him finally stop punching Timmy in the face.
“You okay?” she pants to me as her fiancé scoops her up.
I nod. Somehow.
“I need a fucking ambulance!” Luca roars. His wild eyes scan Gráinne’s body. I don’t think he’s impressed when Gráinne sighs and starts peppering kisses on his face.
“It’s a scrape. Really. I’m okay.” She kisses him again. “I’m sorry. I know what you’re going to say, but I couldn’t wait. I knew you’d be here. Baby, why didn’t you bring a gun?”
I don’t hear the rest of their conversation because Liam’s grip on me tightens. He presses me into him so hard, I can barely breathe. I almost don’t notice that a crowd is forming.
“You’re okay,” he whispers into my hair, his grip strong.
I don’t even care that I’m shaking. I survived.
We all did.
Barely.