Chapter 43 LILY
LILY
Henry is getting more nervous as time passes, and I can feel death approaching with each minute that ticks by.
It's been almost an hour since he talked on the phone with Sarah. Whatever she told him must have been good news because he seems pleased with himself now, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
He keeps checking his gun compulsively, pulling it from his waistband to verify the magazine, clicking the safety on and off with his thumb. Pacing back and forth across the concrete floor with restless energy that makes the space feel smaller.
The men must have paid the ransom. They probably think I'll be released now. That this nightmare ends with a simple exchange.
But that only means I'm closer to death, not freedom. I'm the only witness to what Henry and Sarah have done. The only person who can identify them, testify against them, destroy whatever future they're planning with stolen money.
The metal chair digs into my thighs, the edges cutting into skin that's gone numb from pressure and restricted circulation.
The rope burns on my wrists throb with each heartbeat.
My mouth still tastes like chemicals, that bitter chalk residue from whatever they drugged me with.
The smell of the river is stronger now, damp iron and algae, mixing with the dust in my throat every time I try to swallow.
A fluorescent light overhead flickers and hums, the irregular rhythm adding to my growing sense of unreality.
Because of me, the men will start a war with the Irish. They will think the Irish mafia took me, will retaliate with the kind of violence that escalates into full-scale conflict. People will suffer. Die. Families destroyed. All because of me.
No.
I stop that thought with force, cutting it off before it can take root and grow. It's not my fault. It's not because of me. It's Henry's fault. He's the catalyst for all the bad things that are about to happen.
He chose this. Not me.
Suddenly the door bursts open with explosive violence.
Metal hinges scream. Wood splinters where the lock tears free. Cold air rushes in from outside, shocking after the stagnant warmth of my prison.
Luan enters first, moving like controlled chaos.
Sarah is gripped tight by his arm, his fingers digging into her bicep hard enough to leave bruises.
His gun is pointed at her temple with steady precision.
Behind him, Erion and Artan flow into the space like water, guns already drawn and trained on Henry with the kind of focus that means they won't miss.
"Let her go," Luan says. His voice is cold, empty of everything except command. "I'll trade. Sarah for Lily."
Henry starts yelling immediately, his voice rising to a pitch that borders on hysteria. Calling Sarah names that make me flinch. "You dumb bitch! You stupid fucking bitch! You ruined everything! One simple job and you couldn't even do that!"
He looks at the men, and something in his expression shifts. Becomes calculating despite the drugs. He laughs, the sound unhinged and bitter. "Do whatever you want with her. Shoot her. I don't care. She's useless to me now. I'm taking Lily and getting out of here. She's my insurance policy."
He points his gun at me, the barrel looking impossibly large from this angle. Pulls a lighter from his pocket with his free hand. Clicks it open. Holds the flame to the zip ties binding my ankles.
The plastic melts quickly. The tie snaps with a sound like breaking bone. He moves to my wrists, repeating the process. The heat gets close to my skin, almost burning me, but he doesn't seem to care or notice.
My hands are suddenly free but completely useless, fingers numb and unresponsive.
He pulls me up roughly, his grip bruising on my upper arm. But I can't stand properly, my legs refusing to support my weight. Still too groggy from whatever they gave me. Muscles weak from being tied in one position for hours. The floor tilts under my feet.
Henry doesn't wait for me to find my balance. Just drags me in front of him, positioning my body as a shield between himself and the men with their guns. His arm wraps around my throat, not quite choking but close. The gun presses against my ribs.
He starts moving toward the door, shuffling sideways, dragging me with him. "Step aside!" he yells at the men, his voice cracking slightly. "Move or I shoot her right now!"
Everyone has guns pointed at everyone else. The kind of situation where one wrong move, one flinch, one miscalculation ends with bodies on the floor.
When Henry gets close to the door, Sarah suddenly moves. Lunges at him with a scream, her face twisted with fury and betrayal and the particular rage of someone who just realized they've been abandoned. "You can't just leave me here with them! You bastard! You coward!"
Henry doesn't hesitate.
Doesn't pause.
Doesn't speak.
Just pulls the trigger.
The sound is deafening in the enclosed space. My ears ring immediately, all other sound disappearing under a high-pitched whine.
Sarah's chest blooms red. She looks down at it with confusion, like she can't quite process what's happening. Then her legs give out. She collapses, hitting the concrete hard. Dead before her body stops moving.
I'm in shock, my brain refusing to accept what I just witnessed. Can't process it. Can't think beyond the immediate sensory input of blood spreading across concrete and the smell of gunpowder thick in the air.
Henry is already dragging me toward the door again, stepping over Sarah's body without looking down. Using my body as cover against the men who still have guns trained on him but won't risk the shot.
The men keep their weapons steady, but I can see the calculation in their eyes. The terrible math. They won't risk hitting me. Won't take a shot that might go through Henry and into me. Won't gamble with my life.
I try to speak through the fog in my head and the ringing in my ears. Try to reach whatever part of my brother might still exist under the drugs and desperation. "Henry, please. Stop this. It's not too late. Let me go. Just let me go and run."
He doesn't respond. Doesn't acknowledge that I spoke. Just keeps moving with mechanical determination.
The men step aside slowly, reluctantly, creating a path to the door. Letting us pass because they have no other choice that doesn't risk my life.
Once we're outside, everything happens too fast to track.
A shot rings out. Echoing across open air.
Henry flinches violently. His shoulder jerks back. Blood appears, dark and immediate against his shirt.
He drops the gun. It clatters on concrete. His arm around my throat releases.
I fall, my legs giving out completely, hitting the ground hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.
Through my hazy, drug-blurred vision, I see who shot him. See the man standing twenty feet away with a gun still raised and smoking.
Cormac?
What is he doing here? Am I hallucinating? Is this real?
Henry takes off running, clutching his bleeding shoulder, disappearing into the darkness beyond the building. Cormac chases after him immediately, his movements professional and efficient.
The men rush to me. All three of them converging at once.
Hands on my face, warm and gentle. Artan kneeling beside me, tilting my head up, checking my pupils. Erion swearing under his breath in Albanian, a steady stream of curses and prayers. Luan gripping my jaw gently, his green eyes searching mine for signs of serious injury.
"Zemra ime," Artan murmurs. "Look at me. Focus on my voice."
"I'm okay," I manage to say, though my voice sounds distant to my own ears. "Just shaken. Groggy from whatever they gave me."
I look around, trying to make sense of what just happened. "Was that Cormac?"
"It was Cormac," Luan confirms. His voice is tight. "It's a long story. I'll explain everything later. Right now we need to get you out of here."
Erion is furious, his eyes burning with rage. "He better keep running because I'm going to kill him for taking that shot when Henry had a gun on Lily. One wrong move and she'd be dead."
Artan doesn't wait for further discussion. Just slides his arms under me, one beneath my knees and one behind my back. Lifts me with easy strength.
I protest weakly, my pride fighting through the drug haze. "I think I can walk."
He looks down at me. His dark eyes are intense, unwavering. When he speaks, his voice is low, certain, almost broken with relief and something deeper.
"No. We’re not letting you go, Lily. Not now. Not ever."