He’ll never hurt me again. Never hurt anyone I love, ever again.
I lower the gun, my hand shaking now. The reality of what I've just done crashes over me, and I sway on my feet.
Elio is there immediately, taking the gun from my hand and pulling me against his chest. "I've got you. I've got you."
I bury my face in his shirt and try to breathe. “I killed him,” I whisper. “I actually killed him.”
"Annie." Ronan's voice is gentle. "Look at me."
I turn, still in Elio's arms, and meet my brother's eyes.
"You did what needed to be done," he says quietly. "No one will judge you. He was a threat, and you eliminated that threat. Understand?"
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“Now I’m going to take you home. Finn is going to take Elio so I can deal with him later?—”
"No." I pull away from Elio slightly. "I’m not going anywhere without him.”
The words hang in the air between us, suspended in the cold. My hands are still shaking from the recoil of the gun, from the finality of pulling that trigger. From ending a life.
But I don't regret it. Not for a second.
What I regret is the look on my brother's face as he stares at Elio and me, his dark eyes—so like our father's—dark with fury and something else. Betrayal. Pain. The knowledge that we've been lying to him for days while he tore himself apart looking for me.
"Annie." Ronan's voice is low, dangerous. The voice he uses right before someone dies. "Get away from him. Now."
I don't move. I can't. My legs feel like they're rooted to the floor, my body still pressed against Elio's side where he's holding me up. Without him, I think I might collapse. The adrenaline that's been keeping me upright is starting to fade, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion that makes my vision blur at the edges.
"No," I whisper.
Ronan's jaw clenches. "Annie, I'm not asking?—"
"I said no." My voice is stronger this time, cutting through the tension like a blade. I force myself to stand straighter, to meet my brother's eyes. "Ronan, please." I take a step forward, and Elio's hand tightens on my waist. I can feel the tension in his body, the way every muscle is coiled and ready. He's preparing for a fight. Preparing to defend me against my own brother if he has to. "Just listen to me. Let me explain?—"
"Explain?" Ronan's laugh is harsh, bitter. "Explain what, exactly? How you've been lying to me for weeks? How you let me think you were dead or kidnapped while you were shacked up with him?" He jerks his chin toward Elio, and the contempt in his voice makes my chest ache. "How you let me tear this city apart looking for you while you were playing house with the man I trusted to help me find you?"
"It wasn't like that," I say desperately. My heart is hammering against my ribs, my pulse fluttering in my throat. "Ronan, I swear, it wasn't?—"
"Then what was it like, Annie?" He takes a step closer. Everyone can feel how close we are to violence. How close Ronan is to snapping. "Tell me. Make me understand why my baby sister would do this to me."
I take a shaky breath. "Desmond blamed you for her death. He thought—he said you broke her heart. That you drove her into another man's arms and left her vulnerable. That it was your fault Rocco was able to get to her."
Ronan's face goes pale.
"I know it's not true," I say quickly. "I know you tried with her, Ronan. I know she pushed you away. But Desmond didn't see it that way. He wanted revenge. He wanted to hurt you the way he thought you hurt him."
"By going after you." Ronan's voice is flat, emotionless. But I can see the rage building behind his eyes, the way his hands are clenching into fists at his sides.
"Yes." The word comes out as barely more than a whisper. "He planned it all out. Got close to me, made me trust him. He thought he lost his sister because of you, so he’d take yours.”
Ronan's breathing has gone ragged. "Annie?—"
"I didn't tell you because I knew what it would do to you." My voice cracks, tears burning behind my eyes. "I knew it would open up all those wounds from Siobhan's death. I knew you'd blame yourself, that you'd think this was your fault somehow. And I couldn't—I couldn't do that to you, Ronan. Not when you'd finally started to heal. Not when you'd finally found happiness with Leila."
The silence that follows is deafening. Ronan stares at me, and I can see him processing my words, trying to reconcile what I'm saying with his own guilt and grief and rage.
"So you decided to handle it yourself," he finally says. "You and him." He looks at Elio, and the hatred in his eyes makes my blood run cold. "You decided to lie to me. To let me think you were missing or dead. To let me tear myself apart while you played vigilante."
