Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
I watch, tears flowing freely as the nurses rush in to take over. This is happening with more and more frequency now.
My hands shake. No amount of tapping can calm me.
Bridget isn’t getting better.
We’re out of options.
I'd do anything to save her. Anything.
Even crawl back to Cavin McCarthy.
Even if he breaks me all over again.
Chapter Three
Cavin
By the time I make it back home, it’s dark.
I’ve been ignoring the constant buzz of my phone for hours.
Seamus
Where the fuck are you?
Mam
Where are you, son?
I had to pay the fucking tribute.
Malachy warned me they’d come to collect. He didn’t say they’d take my sister to make their point.
My hands are still shaking… from rage or fear, I don’t fucking know.
He told me what the consequences would be.
And now I know something no one else knows—Bronwyn being taken was on me. A warning. A clear message.
While the others wear themselves out chasing shadows, I paid my fucking five hundred thousand euros.
This can’t go on. I can’t hide that kind of money from my family, and even if I could, I fucking won’t.
But I have to keep Bronwyn safe. I have to find out who this is and put a decided end to it.
When I pull into the family estate, I don’t slide in unnoticed like I’d hoped. Floodlights blaze across the driveway, burning white over gravel and stone. Seamus and Da stand in the front foyer—arms crossed, waiting.
Fuck it.
I steel myself and jog up the front steps.
The door swings open before I hit the top.
“Where the fucking hell were you?”
Seamus’s fist connects with my jaw before I clear the threshold. Pain explodes white-hot. Blood floods my mouth.
He hits me again, harder. My head snaps back, skull cracking against the wall.
“Where. The. Fuck. Were. You?”
He grabs my throat and slams me against the wall. His thumb digs into my windpipe. I taste copper. Can’t breathe.
Black spots dance at the edges of my vision.
If he were anyone else—anyone—I’d drop him right here, bare-knuckle, the way Malachy taught us in the barn when we were lads. Three hits: temple, throat, kidney. He’d be pissing blood for a week.
But he’s my brother. My boss. The head of this family, since Da retired.
I swore an oath.
So I let him choke me.
“Is there an update?” I wheeze out. “Anything?”
“No,” he growls. “We’ve got nothing. No fucking recording at the graveyard. Nothing.”
“Boys.”
Mam walks into the hallway, tall and regal as always.
“Let him go, Seamus,” she says, cool and firm, the voice we obeyed before Da ever raised his.
Seamus drops his hand, and I drag in air that burns going down.
“Mam,” he mutters. “You don’t—”
“You may be the acting head, but I said drop him.”
There’s blood on my collar… on my hands.
Then her eyes cut to me. “Where’d you go?”
I grit my teeth. “I can’t tell you, but I swear to Christ, I was doing something for the family.” I pause. “I’ve got nothing to hide. You know I don’t. But if I tell you, you’re all at risk. That’s all I can say.”
She studies me, silent. Then, finally, one sharp nod.
“Has Cavin ever lied to you, Seamus?”
Seamus steps back, his jaw ticcing. “Not that I know of.”
Then all our phones buzz at once.
“Text from Bronwyn,” Seamus mutters.
I pull out my phone and stare.
I’m in the garden.
Relief slams into me, and my knees buckle. I lock them before anyone notices.
It worked. It fucking worked. I paid the tribute, and they brought her back.
What the fuck did I just pay for? Why her? Why now?
WHO did I pay?
Silence for one blessed beat, then chaos erupts.
Mam drops her phone with a little gasp. Seamus bolts for the door, and I’m right behind him.
We tear down the front stairs, gravel crunching under boots, past the hedges, down Mam’s winding path to the garden.
“Where is she?” Seamus shouts.
But none of that matters right now because, somewhere in the garden, my sister is alive.
“She’s here!” Kyla falls to her knees, sobbing. “I found her! I got her!”
She scoops Bronwyn into her arms. Bronwyn is gagged and blindfolded.
“Take off her blindfold first,” Seamus says, his voice softer now. “So she’s not afraid.” He drops to one knee beside them.
Kyla’s hands shake too badly. I step in, my fingers steady, and peel the blindfold off. Bronwyn blinks up at me. I yank the gag away next in one motion. Her eyes are red-rimmed. Terrified. For half a second, I see Erin. Same fear. Same wide eyes when the bomb went off.
I shove the thought away. Not now. Not fucking now.
“What happened?” She gasps. “Where am I?”
She’s shivering. Seamus gathers her in his arms. “Do you remember anything, love?”
Mam drops to her knees, pulling Bronwyn close, kissing her cheeks. “My baby.”
“I remember… a bomb. That’s all I remember.”
The sun’s long gone down.
Seamus and Zoya’s little ones are tucked into bed upstairs. Bronwyn curls into the couch, legs folded under her, drinking tea spiked with Jack Daniels. A family favorite.