Ronan lowers me carefully to a chair, his hands lingering on my arms. "It's going to be okay," he murmurs. "Trust me."
I nod, even though I'm not sure I believe him. I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this. Where are the rest of Ronan’s men? I hear more shots from outside, and I have to hope they’re coming. That we still have a chance.
"There's no justice in revenge." Ronan takes a small step forward. "You kill me, you kill Annie—it won't bring back what you lost. It won’t fix that Siobhan is gone. All it'll do is make you a murderer." He holds his hands out placatingly. “I’m sorry for what happened, Desmond. Sorrier than you know.”
“It’s not enough,” Desmond hisses. “How long did it take you to marry someone else? Weeks, after she was in the ground? You hated her. You never loved her. You weregladshe was dead.”
“She hated me, too,” Ronan says slowly. “We made a lot of mistakes in our marriage. It was a bad one, from the start. But no, Desmond. I was never glad she was dead. And I would have kept my vows to her.” His voice stays calm. "It doesn't have to be this way. We can end this. Right now. You walk away, disappear, and I'll let you go. No revenge, no retaliation. Just… over."
I don’t know if Ronan’s telling the truth. But I see Desmond’s expression waver. For a moment, I think it might actually work. Think Desmond might actually take the offer.
Then his expression hardens. "You think I'm stupid enough to trust an O'Malley promise? After what, your vows to my sister ended up as? No. This ends with your death. And hers. I wanted her lover to be here, too, but I can take my time with him later. I’m tired of hearing your fucking voice, O’Malley."
He raises the gun, aiming at Ronan's chest.
"No!" I lunge forward, trying to put myself between them, but Ronan pushes me back.
"Stay behind me?—"
The gunshot is deafening in the enclosed space. My ears ring, and I scream, twisting toward Ronan, expecting to see blood, a wound?—
But the shot didn’t come from Desmond's gun.
Desmond stumbles forward, his eyes going wide with shock. He looks down at his side, where blood is spreading across his shirt. Then he turns, slowly, to see who shot him.
Elio stands in the doorway, gun raised.
My heart feels like it might stop in my chest.
"Drop it," Elio says, his voice cold and dead. "Now."
Desmond's gun falls from his fingers and clatters to the floor. He sways on his feet, pressing his hand to the wound. "You..."
"Me." Elio steps into the room, his weapon never wavering. "Ronan, get Annie out of here."
"Elio!" I cry his name and try to go to him, but Ronan is already pulling me toward the door.
"Come on. Now." His voice is cold and hard, and my breath catches in my lungs as I realize what that must mean. What Ronan must know.
I resist, trying to look back at Elio, my heart pounding.He came. He’s here."I need to talk to him?—"
"Later." Ronan's grip is iron. "Right now, we need to move."
He sweeps me into his arms and carries me through the house, past more bodies, more destruction. There are men outside—Ronan's men—securing the perimeter. One of them tries to hand a blanket to me, but I shove it away.
"I need to see Elio. I need to?—"
"Annie, stop." Ronan turns me to face him, his hands on my shoulders. "Are you hurt? Did Desmond hurt you? The baby?—"
He knows. I swallow hard, my heart pounding. "I'm okay." My hand goes to my stomach instinctively. "We're okay. But Elio—I need to talk to him. I need to tell him?—"
“You’re not going to say anything to him.” Ronan’s voice is hard. “After what he did to you?—”
“Whathedid to me?” My voice rises, a shocked squawk. “Ronan, he just saved your life! And he didn’t do anything to me! Not anything that I didn’t want?—”
“I don’t want to hear this.” Ronan turns away, motioning to one of his men. “We need first aid. Her wrists are cut up. Where’s Desmond?”
I see Elio emerging from the house. He has a gun trained on Desmond, marching him out of the house, four other guards flanking him. “I need help!” he shouts. “He’s going to bleed out, so if you want to fucking question him?—”
