Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
CILLIAN
I count down from thirty when we get Liam’s text.
We are parked in a hidden area close to the fence of Cormac’s property. It’s the easiest access point, though we are not quite at the back of the property, but rather to the side but close to the back.
We prepared for the cameras and sort of know the layout of the house, but we didn’t have time to get to learn guard rotations—when and where they go, who is where at what time, when the shifts change.
And the fact that I’m going in blind should worry me, should make me hesitate, but it doesn't. Because if I die today, it’ll be doing what needs to be done. It’ll be saving Isla and our baby, and that’s all right with me.
I just need to stay alive long enough to make sure she makes it out of that house.
Four… Three… Two…One…
I center myself and look at Dare.
Nodding, I open the SUV door and step out.
The fifteen seconds to have the feed up start now, and I take that time to approach the tree that will get me inside.
When the seconds tick to zero, I climb the tree and jump over the fence, rolling as I land, and drawing my gun. I stop rolling and get on my knee, gun aimed in front of me.
Creeping across the yard, I check my surroundings constantly. So far, no hostiles, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t here. We know there are at least a dozen.
Keeping as hidden as possible, I make my way closer to the house.
Something wheezes by my face as thunks in the wood of the tree right beside me.
I don’t think. I turn around, lowering to my knee again, and aim my gun, firing a single bullet.
Unlike him, I don’t miss.
Looking around, I make sure no one else is around and then head to the now dead guard and drag him behind the closest bushes.
As I drop the body, another bullet whizzes by me. It grazes my cheekbone and blood trickles down my face.
Fuck, that burns, but I can’t think about it now, I need to act.
Almost as if on autopilot, the gun lifts and as I squeeze the trigger, the bullet hits home between the fucker’s eyes.
He falls over into the white roses, splattering them red.
Men start coming out like a swarm of bees, and I get in the zone.
Bullet after bullet, men fall around me, but they keep on coming.
I’m numb, killing men like it’s my job–which it is.
For years, I feared turning into a monster. Now, I welcome it. These fuckers are standing between me and the love of my life, as well as our child.
I’ll reap a thousand souls and deliver them straight to Hell if I have to, but I will save Isla.
Something hits my flesh, once, twice, my arm, my leg, my torso, but I keep going. It doesn’t hurt. Nothing hurts. Nothing but her absence.
Each man down is a step closer to my girl.
A trail of blood follows me, mine, theirs, but I don’t care. I won’t stop.
There’s one man eating a sandwich. He turns when I approach, mouth open, and my bullet enters through his mouth and pierces the back of his head.
Before his body hits the dirt, I’m already moving.
Two men run at me from the left, and I take them out.
Cormac is well protected, but all the protection in the world couldn’t save him from me. He’s lucky I’m not here for him.
Yet.
I don‘t know if I’ll make it out of this, but at least Isla will. The baby will. I’ll make sure of it with my dying breath if I have to.
As I advance, I come face-to-face with yet another guard.
He’s fast.
I’m faster.
When his body hits the floor, a second man shows up. They are like cockroaches coming out of the sewer.
He ducks behind a wooden annex on the patio when he spots me.
Fuck.
My time just ran shorter. If he doesn’t yet, Cormac will know I’m here now.
I hope Liam can handle himself and was ready for this outcome.
I get a shot in the second the sneaky fucker peeks out.
He clutches at his chest and goes down.
I have to step it up, move faster, so I run.
As I step over the fallen man, he grabs my ankle.
Grunting, I hit the ground.
“Got you, you son of a bitch.” He coughs up blood, and I kick him in the face, twice.
He yelps and gurgles, and I’m able to get back on my feet.
My side pulls a bit, and I wonder if a rib is broken. It doesn’t matter. The numbness takes care of the pain, and I just need to get to Isla.
I run, though nothing but silence follows me.
As I’m almost past the side patio, I’m cut off by Reese O’Connell.
Fuck me.
Reese is Cormac’s right-hand man, and he’s a monster of a man, towering over even me. I’m six-four, so he has to be at least six-six, and wide as I am. He was a sniper in the Marines before he retired, and he’s holding a gun right at my face.
“Don’t move.”
I freeze but don’t put my gun down, standing off with him. “Just let me pass, Reese. I won’t even kill you.”
He scoffs. “You think you can kill me? I’ll have your brains splattered all over the grass before you can fire off a shot.”
I shrug one shoulder. “Maybe. But maybe I’ll get off that shot, and we’ll both go down. You can’t be sure, or you would’ve pulled that trigger already.”
He hesitates, and I give him a wry smile.
“Seems we’re in a standoff.”
He smirks. “I know why you’re here.”
I try to keep my face as calm as possible.
He can’t know. Even Cormac doesn’t know.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don't you worry, pretty boy. I’m taking good care of her.” His grin widens, and the fist not holding my gun tightens at my side.
He’s just trying to rile me up. He doesn’t know exactly what’s going on. He thinks Isla is Maggie, thinks we’re after her because she stole our secrets.
That has to be it, right?
“You’ve been hitting the whiskey too hard, Reese. I have no idea—”
His grin turns into a sneer. “She’s bonny, and a bit pale. Well, not so pale now since I roughed her up.”
Red taints my vision, and I run at him.
He fires off two shots, but they must have gone wide because even through the numbness I feel nothing—no hit, no pull, no pain.
I tackle him around the waist, knocking him to the ground.
He curses, his gun falling on the grass. He starts pummeling my ribs.
There is a crack or two, but I can’t even feel it.
I punch him in the throat, hard, twice.
Anger consumes me that he so much as deigned to touch Isla.
Punch after punch rain on him. His face, his throat, his temples. No part of his head and neck left untouched.
The crunch of his nose is satisfying, but not enough.
Blood spatters on my shirt and my face, and he chokes again, trying to gurgle out words, but I don’t stop.
He touched her, roughed her up. My Isla.
Fucker is dead, just doesn’t know it yet, and the fact that I’m using my hands instead of a weapon makes my chest swell with pride.
Nothing else exists but the pure satisfaction of the smack of skin hitting skin as my fist connects to his face time and time again.
He’s not punching back anymore, not even twitching, and still I punch and punch.
My knuckles bleed, a few fingers broken from the sheer force I’m using, and still I keep going.
Even after his face caves in, I still land a couple of punches to his throat for good measure.
As the red taint drops from my vision, I come to, breathing hard, chest heaving.
My ribs ache with every breath; I have a few bullets still in me and a few through and through, but I keep going.
Each step is harder than the next, but I won’t let myself stop, won’t drop until I’m sure she is safe.
Exhaustion threatens to take me over.
I’m not done yet, goddamnit.
I turn the corner and walk up onto the back patio, the bottom floor, and gurgling sounds have me looking up to see a man crawling down the stairs, choking on his own blood.
What the fuck?
Has everything gone sideways?
Liam must have had to kill someone—
I look further up the stairs, and Isla stands there, holding what looks like a fucking bloodied letter opener, her chest heaving, blood all over her face and shirt.
And she has a black eye.
Fucking Reese. I’m glad I busted his head in.
“Isla…”
I’ve completed my mission; I found her. I can breathe easier.
The world tilts, and I crumble to my knees.