Chapter 15 #2
The medic straightens, wiping his hands. “This is beyond me. He needs a hospital, surgery. That bullet's too close to?—”
“I don't need a fucking hospital,” Tiernan says. “Just give me a stiff drink and a nap.”
“You need surgery, you stubborn bastard,” my father insists. “Or you'll bleed out here on the couch.”
“Fuck that.” Tiernan shakes his head. “I'm meaner than this. Aye, a few bullets aren't going to put me down. We're McCarthys. We fight.”
“And sometimes fighting means compromise,” I mutter. “Means getting the help you fucking need.”
I've seen Tiernan survive worse than this. He'll make it. He has to.
But I can't stop thinking about Bianca, and that makes me feel like a fucking traitor.
Is she scared, wondering where I went? Is she peaceful, safe in my bed?
Fuck. It's useless.
“Why'd they hit us?” I ask.
“Message,” Da says grimly. “They're pushing back on the docks territory. Want to remind us they haven't forgotten about us, eh?”
“Right. Lovely.”
The medic looks at my father, then at Tiernan. “I'm calling for transport. You need an operating room, or you won't make it through the night.”
“Don't you fucking dare—” Tiernan starts.
“Or what? You’ll get your sorry arse out of bed and kick my arse? Do it,” Da says firmly. “Call them.”
Lorcan reappears in the doorway, his phone in hand. My younger brother looks fucking wrecked—hair mussed, jacket askew, his eyes a little wild. “Ambulance is on its way. Seamus is coming too.”
Tiernan promises a swift and painful death to all of us, but he’s not in a position to be issuing threats.
“Good lad,” Nolan says. “Thank you, son.”
I should feel something. Relief that Tiernan's going to make it. Rage at the Russians for coming at us. Something .
But all I can think about is whether Bianca's alright. How's her ankle? Is she warm enough? Does she need me, and I'm not fucking there?
Guilt eats at me. Tiernan's lying here bleeding, and I'm worried about a girl who's perfectly safe in a locked cabin in the middle of nowhere .
A girl I have no business being interested in. A girl I should probably let go.
But I can't.
I fucking won't.
Is she safe? Did she stay?
The thought hits me like a punch to the gut.
She promised she'd stay. I looked her in the eye. She promised .
But what if?—
“Ash?” Da's voice cuts through my spiral. “You alright, son?”
“Fine,” I lie.
He studies me for a long moment. McCarthy eyes never miss anything. But thank fuck he doesn't push, just nods and turns back to Tiernan.
The next few minutes blur. Paramedics swarm in, efficient and professional. Tiernan curses them the entire time they load him onto the stretcher.
“Someone needs to go back to the warehouse,” Da says as they wheel Tiernan toward the door. “Ashland, you and Lorcan need to make sure everything's secured.”
Lorcan nods.
Da looks at me. “Go, son. Tiernan will be alright. Clean this up.” He claps me on the shoulder, then he and Declan follow the stretcher out.
It's busy work, and we both know it. The kind of task you give someone you need busy but don't want to trust with anything important. Da knows I'm preoccupied.
But I'm grateful for it because it gives me a reason to pull out my damn phone. My fingers shake as I open the security app and pull up the cabin's cameras.
She's fine. I know she is. I need to stop being so paranoid. She told me she'd stay, and where would she even fucking go?
The feed loads slow as fuck—my signal is weak in here.
Bedroom first—empty. Sheets are tangled like she got up in a hurry.
The fuck?
Kitchen? Empty.
Living room? Empty.
Where the fuck is she?
My heart's pounding. Then suddenly, she's there. I breathe out a sigh of relief.
She's there.
I drag in a ragged breath. She’s by the window, dressed—jeans, sweater, hair pulled back in a somehow sexy-as-fuck messy ponytail. I can already picture it wrapped around my fist.
And then she turns and walks to the kitchen, and she?—
Wait.
She's not… limping.
Not even a little.
She's pacing back and forth, testing her weight on the ankle like there's nothing wrong with it. I told her not to walk on it yesterday. And there's no pain on her face, no hesitation.
Cold washes over me and turns my blood to ice.
She fucking faked it.
The tears. The pain. The way she winced when I touched her ankle. How she had to hold on to me so she wouldn't put any weight on it.
All of it was a performance, designed to make me think she was still injured and couldn't get away.
Un-fucking-believable.
I watch her go to where I’ve hidden her phone.
My heart’s beating a frantic rhythm in my chest when she goes to the front door and turns the handle. She knows it's locked, but she tries anyway. Then she moves to the window, examining the frame, looking for a way out.
And I have two conflicting emotions all at once—pride that she pulled one over on me, and fear that she’s fucking pulled one over on me .
“ Fuck ,” I mutter.
“What?” Lorcan's beside me, leaning over my shoulder to see my screen.
I close the app and shove the phone in my pocket. “I need to go.”
“Go? We're not done here. You were going to head to the warehouse and clean it up. Da told us?—”
I don’t have time for this. He doesn’t need me. “You'll finish. Call Declan. He’ll help you. There's something I need to handle right now.”
“Ash, what the fuck?—”
“ No. I have to go.” He’s my younger brother, and there’s a hierarchy here. He'll do what I fucking say.
I'm already moving toward the door, then into my car. The engine roars to life before he can finish his question.
I pull up the camera feed again at a red light and watch her try the window one more time.
She's a smart lass. She's going to find weaknesses because I designed this place to keep people out, not in, and I was counting on her not being able to move on her goddamn ankle.
The light turns green, and I floor it.
The phone rings, and I stab at it. Lorcan’s not letting this go.
“You can’t just take off, Ash. The fuck?”
“I said I had something to do.”
“Seamus is going to want to know?—”
“Then tell him I'm handling something for the family. Tell him whatever the fuck you want. I'll be back in a few hours.”
I blow out a breath.
“Look, Lorcan.”
“You're going to tell me to fuck off and then ask me for a favor, aren’t you?”
“Aye, of course I am. That's what we do.”
“Fine. What do you want?”
“I need you to find me the current location of Marcus Crowning.”
Even uttering that name fills me with rage. I shake, my hands trembling on the wheel. Molten lava rises in my blood.
I shouldn't even mention the fucker to my brother. He'll know. He'll fucking know.
“Marcus Crowning?” Lorcan pauses. “Ash, what the hell are you?—”
“ Now , Lorcan.”
He pauses longer this time. I can practically hear him thinking, weighing whether to push back or give me what I need .
I pull up the screen again, and I see it.
Un-fucking-believable.
She found her phone. She found her goddamn phone.
She's leaving.
“Ten,” Lorcan says with a sigh. “Give me ten minutes.”
“You've got five.”
“Jesus Christ, Ash.”
I hang up.
The road passes in a blur as the city gives way to open country, and every second feels like a goddamn eternity. Every mile between me and Bianca is a knife to the gut.
She promised me.
She lied.
My phone buzzes with a text from Lorcan.
Lorcan
Crowning estate. Sending address now.
The location drops into my messages.
She's going back to him… I know it. Of course she fucking will, right back to the fuckin’ murderer. To the life that's going to destroy her.
I should let her. I should fucking let her make her own choices and face her own consequences, goddamn it. My hands grip the wheel so hard it hurts .
I should fucking let her run straight into Crowning's fucking arms and see what happens when he becomes the monster she doesn't know yet.
But Christ help me… I can't.
The image of Bianca’s broken body flashes before my eyes like a living nightmare. My vision blurs in a red haze, and I push the gas pedal harder.
Jesus.
The cabin finally comes into view through the trees. I screech to a halt, kill the engine, and as soon as my feet hit the walkway, I know. I know.
She’s gone. I can feel her absence like a physical blow.
What will I do? What will I fucking do?
The front door's locked. I key in the code, then push it open slowly, silently. Lancelot meows loudly and winds himself around my ankles. I bend and pick him up, cradling him to my chest. A connection to her.
“Bianca?”
Silence.
The cabin feels empty without her. It’s too cold, like the air's been sucked out of the room.
I check anyway, of course—room by room, knowing with each one that she's gone. Lancelot pounces onto the bed and meows again, as if telling me she’s gone .
The window's open. Not broken, just open. She must have figured out the lock. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that she's gone.
I stand there, staring at the open window, my hands fisted at my sides, breathing hard through my nose like a bull about to fucking charge.
She chose Crowning.
She chose death over being my hostage.
You let yourself hope .
You let yourself think that maybe she was starting to understand.
But no.
I stare at Crowning’s location again on my phone. She'll go to him. I know it.
My phone buzzes—Lorcan again.
I smash the phone. “What?”
“So far, so good with surgery.” Guilt floods me, and I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Thank fuck.”
“Not out of the woods until he’s done, but the doc says he’ll be alright. You coming home tonight? Seamus says?—”
“Can’t. Not tonight.”
“Ash— ”
I hang up the phone.
Right now, there's only one thing that matters.
And she's gone.
Left for good.
Over my fucking dead body.
I have to get to her before I lose my fucking mind.
I get back in the car and turn the engine. My hands grip the steering wheel until my knuckles go white, every instinct screaming at me to push the accelerator, to drive faster than is safe, to go get what's mine .
But I don't.
I sit there, the engine idling, staring at the cabin through the windshield.
She promised, and I believed her.
Now she's gone, and I have to let her go.
Have to.
I could find her, throw her over my shoulder, and bring her back here. I’d lock every fucking door, tie her to my fucking bedpost, and never let her leave again.
But that's not what she needs right now.
She needs space. Time. The truth is sitting heavy in her chest while she figures out what to do with it.
And I need her to choose me. Not the cage. Not the protection. Me.
So I'll wait.
I'll watch from the shadows, as I've always done. I'll make sure she's safe, even if she doesn't want me near her. I'll give her the freedom she asked for.
Even if it kills me.
Even if every second she's gone feels like I’m slowly bleeding out.
I put the car in reverse and drive away from the cabin—away from the only place she's ever been truly mine.