Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
PRIEST
T he great thing about having morally questionable values was how much could be accomplished. I kidnapped my wife, but there was no fucking way I would apologize. She belonged with me, and for better or worse, we would work out our issues.
Her brothers didn’t object to me taking Ivy because I threatened a war. After all, she was no longer a Murphy but had my name attached to her. And Louisa… well, she needed a bit more persuading. But I had the information she needed to find her sister and she couldn’t bypass it.
Not that I’d cut her away from them.
They were family, and if she wanted to help her sister find her twin, I’d do everything in my power to find her too. With Ivy at my side.
Instead of going back to Philly, I’d taken us to Ireland and the property Aisling had gifted us. I even secured Cobra’s transport so Ivy wouldn’t feel alone, although a small part of me worried she’d sic her on me.
I stood by the large glass door that looked out onto the craggy cliffs of Ballyhack to the waves crashing on the beach. Strong. Powerful. Deadly. A combination so familiar it would usually bring me some comfort.
But not today.
I’d had my wife back at my side for a week now. She’d finally stopped asking me to take her back, but she refused to talk to me.
She just needs time to cool off , I told myself, yet as the back of my neck itched and tension crept up my spine, I had to roll my shoulders to push away my obsessive thoughts.
The months of therapy had helped, but the old habit of releasing tension by means of torture had crept in and had me pacing around restlessly in the large foyer.
Glancing up the staircase for the last time, I made a decision.
I walked outside, instructing my guards to keep an eye on Ivy and Cobra, then made my way to the outskirts of the property, the one that bordered the Brennans’, and descended into the dungeon.
“You have to let me go or you’ll burn in the eternal fires of hell.” The local priest I had kidnapped sat tied to the chair, chains shining around his torso, while I examined him like the filthy insect he was.
I flexed my hands into fists. The rage I’d suppressed roared back, drowning out any other feeling.
“The only one going to hell is you, Father. And there’s a special place there for pedophiles.”
His body twisted in a futile struggle.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The burning flame of panicked resentment flickered in his eyes. “I’m a man of the cloth. I teach Sunday school.”
The memories of my own abuse were hazy, buried beneath the weight of the years, but emotional scars were there. They would always be there.
“I know.” I bent until we were at eye level. “And you won’t be teaching shit by the time I’m done with you.”
A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. Malice mingled with the resentment in his eyes.
“You’ll never get away with this.”
“Oh, I already did.”
Every bottled-up emotion unleashed on this fucker.
I gripped his shoulder and dug my fingers into the pressure points until he squeaked with pain. I slammed my fist into his face, fury darkening the edges of my vision. The air crackled with unleashed violence, and soon, the snap of bone gave way to the wet sound of ripping flesh.
Soon, my heart thundered with adrenaline and tension seeped out of my body.
This was the outlet I needed.
A hand came to my back and I whirled around, ready to punch whoever dared to enter my sanctuary when my hand froze mid-air.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I came to visit your grandpa Brennan and your uncle Liam,” she said. “It was a short walk from their property to yours, so I wanted to pop in when I spotted you from the distance.” She tilted her chin at the body behind me. “With him.” I narrowed my eyes on her and she let out an exasperated sigh. “Christian, I grew up around here. I know every corner of this place. It wasn’t hard to figure out where you’re dragging a body to.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, Aisling.”
“Your grandpa Brennan and uncle Liam?—”
“Please stop calling them that.”
“Okay.” She sighed again. “Anyhow, they may or may not have been keeping an eye on you and are worried.”
I scoffed. “A bit late for them to be worried, don’t you think?”
“That’s not fair since neither one of them knew I gave birth and didn’t know of your existence.” She waved her hand, dismissing the topic. “But I’m here for you now and I just want to make you see reason,” Aisling said, taking my bloodied hand in hers. “Christian, you have to stop playing the role of judge, jury, and executioner. Instead, talk to your wife. Talk to me. Just stop .”
I stared at her, then at the bloodied, unconscious body on the ground. Dark liquid pooled around him, and if it weren’t for the faint rise and fall of his chest, I would’ve thought he was already dead.
“I can’t,” I said. “You should go.”
She definitely didn’t belong down here. My ragged breaths echoed in the empty space. This stone cellar contained no furniture aside from the chair and a table full of torture tools.
She refused to let go and yanked me with more strength than I’d thought possible.
“Yes, you can. Now listen to me.” My heart rate slowed the longer I stared at her. “This… this guy deserves to be tortured and killed. But you don’t. Stop staining your soul and live. Move on.”
The soft drip, drip, drip of the moisture on the walls pushed away the fog clouding my brain and I was suddenly aware of the blood coating my hands and staining Aisling.
I wrenched myself away from her and stumbled backward, my breathing heavy and my throat raw.
“Please, Christian,” she pleaded with a soft voice at my back. “Please let the past go and live . For you and your wife. For me .” Tears burned my eyes. “I don’t deserve any reprieve for leaving you, but you do.”
I slowly turned around and met my mother’s somber expression, nothing but love in it. No disgust for what she’d just witnessed me do. Just acceptance.
My stomach lurched and I glanced at the unconscious body.
“Let me take care of this,” she offered. “Liam can help and we’ll be out of here before Ivy even notices us.”
I would have laughed if the circumstances weren’t so fucked up.
“No. You shouldn’t?—”
She cut off my protest.
“That’s what family’s for.” To tell the truth, she’d surprised me. It wasn’t what I’d expect from someone like her, but maybe she was stronger than she appeared. As if she read my thoughts, she said, “Being with Frank… your father… I’ve found a strength I never thought I possessed.”
She smiled dreamily, the expression out of place here in the darkness of the cellar filled with a coppery scent.
“I guess that’s good,” I muttered.
“He chases my demons away.” My brow furrowed. Aisling’s sigh contained multitudes of exasperation. “We all have our crosses to bear, yours heavier than mine.”
“I didn’t think you were religious.”
Emotions slipped into her gaze, an acute sense of guilt turning her eyes a deep blue.
“The point is, Christian, Ivy chases yours away. And when you find someone like that, you hold on to it with both hands and never let go.”
“What do you think I’m doing?” I closed my eyes and pressed a fist to my forehead, swallowing the lump in my throat. “But the tighter I squeeze, the faster she slips through my fingers.”
The dark cloud that had stalked me for years swirled faster, a thunderstorm in the making.
“You need to talk to her.”
Tension zipped down my spine and I cracked my eyes open to glare at her. “I do talk to her.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose, and the gesture sobered me. I finally let myself see a part of myself in this strong woman.
“What I mean, son, is talk to her about what you’re feeling, whether that be fear, joy, love, passion…”
“And if she—” I searched for the right word and failed. “If she doesn’t like what she hears or sees deep down?”
After a long moment of silence, she answered. “It’s just a risk you have to take.”