“I’m going to kill him, Maeve,” he seethes through gritted teeth.
“No,” I say flatly, and his body stiffens. He pulls back to look at me. “You can whoop his ass,” I say, “but I will be the one to end him.”
A look of understanding washes over his features. “Don’t do anything until we find out what he knows.”
A nod and a deep, tender kiss are the only communications before he grabs my hand and we walk back to the office.
And right there, in the seat across from mine, sits Liam.
Smug.
Arrogant.
Piece of shit.
Soon to be adeadpiece of shit.
Chapter 27
Callum
Cockalorum (adj) a little man who has a high opinion
19 Years Old
The fluorescent lights above buzzed softly, casting a cold glow over the gym’s cracked wooden floor. They weren’t enough to light the entire gym, though. Its corners and recesses were in shadow, and it looked eerie, liminal. In the corner of the ring, the rhythmic thwack of my fists meeting the pads echoed through the space. Each punch landed with sharp precision, focused and clean.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Lorcan stood in front of me, tall and solid, his arms raised, holding the focus mitts high. His breath was steady, and his eyes were locked on mine. "Keep it tight! One-two, one-two!" His voice cut through the air like a whip, his accent stronger in that moment than his everyday cadence.
I grunted and threw my punches. The impact is fast and sharp, like rapid gunshots echoing in a shootout.
Boom! A heavy punch landed on the mitts. I felt the vibration travel through my arm, followed by a grunt of exertion. My muscles were onfire, but I pushed forward. Each connection with the pad cleared more of the unwanted thoughts.
"Again!" Lorcan barked, his voice gruff and demanding.
I tightened my core, launching myself into another combination. My jab smacked into the mitts cleanly, followed by a thudding cross that made the air whoosh as the pads absorbed the power.
Pop! Smack! Wham!
My shoes squeaked against the floor as I shifted my weight, each step a staccato rhythm matched by the rapid-fire punches. The air smells of sweat, leather, and the sting of salt on my skin. My breath came quick and shallow, my movements swift, my body a machine working in time with the rhythm of the strikes.
Thud. Thud. Thwack.
With each punch, I heard the mitts bend under the pressure, like the snap of a taut rope. Lorcan’s grunts of encouragement fueled my pace. The punches grew faster, louder.
I was pouring sweat, my heart pounding in my chest, the rhythm of my strikes like a different heartbeat altogether in the eerie emptiness of the gym. Then, one final punch.
BOOM.
It was a deep, resonating sound that vibrated through the gloom.
I stepped back, breathing heavily, the thudding of my heartbeat ringing in my ears. The gym fell into a brief, taut silence. I couldn’t tell if it was the weight of the punch or if I was just finally feeling the burn.
“That’s enough for today,” Lorcan said over his shoulder as he stepped out of the ring to grab some water and take a moment to breathe.
“I still have more,” I said, grinning as Lorcan cut his eyes in my direction. I can’t help but chuckle a bit. We’d been at it for hours, and I knew he was ready to leave. Ronan was waiting for me at Charlie’s, anyway. I stepped out of the ring and walked over to my bag, pulling out my water bottle and checking my phone to see what I missed.
