Then Ronan appears at the top of the stairs, and relief crashes through me so intensely it's painful.
He's alive. He's here.
"Annie!" He starts down the stairs, but Desmond appears behind him, gun raised.
"Ronan, behind you!" I scream.
Ronan spins just as Desmond fires at his shoulder. The shot goes wide, missing by inches, and Ronan returns fire. Desmond ducks back through the doorway, and suddenly they're both firing at each other, Ronan halfway down the stairs, Desmond at the top.
"Get down here!" I'm crying now, terrified. "Ronan, please?—"
"Working on it!" He fires three more shots, forcing Desmond back, then rushes the rest of the way down the stairs. He crosses to me in two strides, pulling a knife from his belt. "Are you hurt? Did he touch you?"
"I'm okay." The lie comes automatically. "I'm okay, just get me out of?—"
He's already cutting through the zip ties on my wrists. The moment my hands are free, I throw my arms around his neck, sobbing. "You came. You actually came."
"Of course I came." His voice is rough as he cuts the ties on my ankles. "You're my sister. Did you really think I'd leave you here?"
"I thought—I was so scared?—"
"I know. I know." He helps me to my feet, and I sway, my legs not quite working after hours in the chair. He catches me, holding me steady. "Can you walk?"
"I think so." But when I try to take a step, my knees buckle.
"Okay, new plan." He sweeps me up into his arms. "Hold on tight."
More gunfire from upstairs, closer now. Ronan heads for the stairs, with me held against his chest with one arm, his gun in the other hand, moving fast despite my weight.
We're almost to the top when Desmond appears in the doorway again, blocking our path.
"Going somewhere?" He's bleeding from a wound on his shoulder, but the gun in his hand is steady. Pointed directly at Ronan's head. “Using your sister as a shield? I thought you were better than that, O’Malley.”
Ronan stops, and I can feel his body tense beneath me.
"Let us pass, Desmond." Ronan's voice is deadly calm. "This is over. My men will kill you if you don’t let us go. Or I will. Whatever you’re doing here, it’s done."
"Over?" Desmond laughs. "It's not over until you're dead. Until she watches you die. Until everyone who wronged me has paid. Until Siobhan is avenged, until I get what I fucking want for once in my fucking life?—"
"The only one dying tonight is you." Ronan starts to raise his weapon, but Desmond's gun is already aimed.
"I wouldn't." Desmond's finger tightens on the trigger. "Drop it, or I'll paint the walls with your brain. And Annie gets to watch. I wanted to do this slowly, but I can make compromises."
Ronan hesitates, then slowly lowers his gun. Set it on the stairs.
"Good." Desmond smiles. "Now come up here. Nice and slow."
Ronan carries me up the stairs, each step measured and careful. I can feel his heart pounding against my side, can see the muscle working in his jaw. He's looking for an opening. A way out. Waiting for whoever he brought with him to get through the fray and come to help.
But Desmond's gun never wavers. There’s no opening. No moment where he can get past him, get the jump on him. Desmond might be insane, but he’s come up with a plan, and so far it’s going his way.
We reach the top of the stairs, and Desmond backs up, keeping the weapon trained on us. "Into the main room. Now."
Ronan carries me through the doorway, and I see the carnage. There are bodies everywhere—Desmond's men, some of Ronan's. Blood on the walls, the floor, the furniture. The house reeks of gunpowder and death.
How many people have died tonight because of me? My eyes burn, and my throat is tight. I want to sob, but if I let myself cry now, I don’t know how I’m ever going to stop.
"Set her down," Desmond orders, gesturing with the gun.
