49. Deargán
DEARGáN
The rhythmic hiss of the ventilator filled the room, each mechanical breath reminding me that my heart no longer beat inside my own chest.
Hours. That was all the doctors had given me.
My body still lived because machines refused to let it die yet, but my heart had already begun its new life somewhere beyond these walls.
The door opened quietly, and Liath stepped inside alone.
Hope rose in me before I could stop it, my eyes searching the doorway beyond her shoulder. “Is he…?”
Her face fell as she closed it behind her.
He wasn’t coming.
I wouldn’t get to say goodbye to Magpie’s son.
To my son.
The ache settled heavily in my chest for one long, painful heartbeat before I forced myself to lay it down. I had wasted too much of my life clinging to things I shouldn’t have, and I wouldn’t waste my last few moments doing the same.
“That’s okay,” I said.
For a long moment, I simply looked at her.
She’d taken a shower, no blood left on her, and wore a long-sleeved wool dress in a bruised purple. I imagined that Dervla might have helped her with that.
Her hair had grown beyond her shoulders now, soft waves framing a face that no longer wore a pleasing mask the way she did when I’d first seen her in Dublin.
She held herself with a quiet confidence that hadn’t existed when I’d stolen her from her life.
The girl I’d kidnapped had survived because she had no choice, but the woman standing before me had led a rebellion.
She had walked willingly into hell to save innocent people, kneeled beside Alistair Lasair and ended him, and then chosen my son, despite my machinations, because she truly loved him.
The distance between those two women was measured by every selfish decision I’d ever made. It was my indictment, and it was also my reckoning.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry for taking you, for making you doubt yourself every time you questioned me. For pushing you into my revenge.” Shame tightened around every word as I continued. “And for trying to control you because I wanted you, convincing myself that was love.”
The words scraped something raw inside me as I forced the truth out.
“It wasn’t.” I closed my eyes for a moment before adding, “It was selfish.”
Silence settled between us. I wasn’t asking for forgiveness. There wasn’t enough time left for that. But I couldn’t leave this world without naming what I’d done.
Liath crossed the room and sat beside the bed. “I’ll never agree with what you did,” she said quietly. “But I understand you. And I forgive you.”
The words landed with a gentleness I hadn’t deserved, and my eyes burned.
“My soul has always belonged to Maggie,” I whispered, more to myself than to her. “Always has. Always will.”
A sad smile touched her lips. “I know.”
The corner of my mouth lifted. “But you’ll always have my heart.”
She reached her hand toward me.
Every instinct told me to pull away before she touched the ruined side of my face. Those scars had become reminders of the man I’d become, ugly maps of hatred burned into flesh.
Instead, I stayed perfectly still as her fingertips brushed gently across the twisted skin.
Every wrong turn I’d taken flashed through my mind.
Every moment I’d chosen vengeance over mercy, every chance I’d had to become a better man before bitterness consumed me.
All of it had led here, to the only selfless choice I’d ever truly made.
Too late to save myself, but just in time to save my son.
Her thumb traced the ridge beneath my eye. “Thank you,” she whispered.
I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment as a wave of warmth surged in my chest. Who knew you could still feel even without a heart.
The door opened, and Liath’s hand slipped from my face as she turned. A wheelchair rolled slowly into the room, and Lorcan appeared, pale beneath the hospital lights, every movement careful, his chest wrapped beneath the hospital gown.
He was here.
He’d come.
Liath guided him farther into the room before stepping back, but Lorcan’s hand caught her wrist. She looked down at him, and when he didn’t let go, she remained beside him.
“Lorcan,” I said, his name catching in my throat as I swallowed.
He didn’t look at me. His jaw, the jaw he’d inherited from me along with that stubbornness, was locked tightly, and his eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond my shoulder.
Christ. I understood his anger all too well.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” I said.
“But you need to know that I regret choosing revenge over Maggie,” I continued, my voice growing quieter.
“I regret losing you before I ever knew you. I regret every year bitterness stole from my life.” I drew another mechanical breath.
“Hatred…” I looked toward the ceiling. “Hatred makes even good men do terrible things.”
I glanced at Liath, who nodded at me with encouragement.
“That isn’t an excuse,” I said. “Only the truth.” I let out a long breath, all the weight finally lifting off my chest. My limbs had started going numb, the edges of my skin blurring against the sheets.
I studied my son’s face for the time I had left.
Lorcan.
With my dark hair and strong jaw. My stubbornness, my ruthlessness and propensity for obsession. And the same fury with which he loved.
He had Maggie’s pale-blue eyes. Her spirit, her smile, and most of all, her gentle heart that he kept hidden underneath, kept only for those chosen few.
I smiled. Even if I hadn’t gotten a chance to raise him, to know him, I could die knowing that there were pieces of me that would live on inside him. “Thank you for coming. I’m glad I could see you before I go… son.”
Son. I whispered it under my breath, testing it on my tongue, then again, really tasting it. The unfamiliar word felt so sacred. So precious.
The edges of my vision began to darken, my breath growing shallow.
I didn’t have long.
“I also have regrets,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
He still wouldn’t meet my eyes. “That I let my own hatred stop me from telling you earlier. That you never got to see her loving me as my ma.” His throat worked as he continued.
“She is the only reason Alistair couldn’t destroy everything good in me. ”
My vision blurred as his hand rose slowly to his chest. Then, finally, he looked directly at me. “And I regret that this is the only way I get to know you as my da.”
His acknowledgement shattered a lifetime of injustice, a lifetime of mistakes and regrets. The weight I’d carried for decades finally slipped away.
There was nothing else left to ask for. My son was alive, and the woman who had reminded me what love was, stood beside him.
I smiled through the tears gathering in my eyes. “Love well,” I said, my final words coming easily. “Be happy.”
Movement caught the corner of my eye, and I saw Pie standing quietly near the window. She looked exactly as she had before the world had broken us. Young, beautiful, smiling with that wildness in her piercing blue eyes that had never failed to draw me in.
She walked toward me, her edges flaring with light, and held out her hand.
This time, I didn’t hesitate.
I reached for her, and when our fingers touched, everything became light.