“Ahh, yes. I am. When is the ambu—” I was cut short by the sound of the doorbell. “I think they are here now.”
“Let me know for sure,” she said to me, and I quickly rushed to the door. When I flung it open, it was the EMTs, so I stepped out of the way as they hurried over to Ronan.
“They’re here. Thank you so much.”
The call disconnected, and I set it down as I tried to stay out of their way. Ronan was put onto a stretcher, and I knew he was alive because I heard him groan, albeit much more weakly than he likely sounded any other time. They had just finished securing him and were on their way out the door when Cillian arrived home.
“Where are you taking him?” he asked one of the men. “And how is he?”
“We’re taking him to the Matar, and we can’t be sure at the moment. He’s suffered a cardiac emergency, so time is of the essence.”
“Understood. I’ll be there soon,” he said to the men, then they rushed away from the door with him. Cillian came inside and immediately pulled me into his arms. “Are you okay, Anamchara?”
I clung to him, but did drop my head back to look up into Cillian’s face. He reached out to stroke the side of my face, then turned my head to the side when he saw me flinch. A slewof curses spilled from his lips as he must’ve seen where his grandfather had struck me.
“What did he do to you?” he asked me. “And don’t leave anything out.”
I released my hold on him, then gave him a high overview of our encounter. Some of the things he had said to me were left out because, honestly, that pain was the kind I needed to own. Cillian already had so much regret on his shoulders that I wanted to take some of it off them for him, if at all possible.
I told him that after insulting me by trying to buy me off, he ranted about Cillian and me, then started to threaten me before becoming so enraged that it must’ve brought on his heart attack. As much as Cillian might hate his grandfather, I also knew a large part of him loved Ronan as well. If these were the last moments that he would have with the devil, I at least wanted them to be less guilt-inducing.
“I need to go to the hospital. I think you should come too and have your face examined.”
“No,” I said to him. “I’ve had worse done to me in a city alley during an attempted mugging a few years ago. Some ice and a few hours and it will be all better.”
“Are you sure?” he asked me, then added. “It really would make me feel better to know that you’re okay.”
“I am okay,” I promised him, then stood up on my tip toes so I could press my lips to his. I only gave him a brief kiss, but I still felt the sparks between us over something that small, and I sensed by his reaction that he did, too. “Go ahead and be with him. I’ll be fine here.”
“I’m leaving one of my men here to watch over you. And I’ll arrange for Esther to pick Ciara up at school, and?—”
“She has a chorus concert tonight,” I reminded Cillian, and I could see the pain in his eyes the moment he realized he would likely miss it. “I’ll go to it tonight, and I’ll record it all for you.”
“Thank you,” he mouthed before pressing his mouth to mine.
A few minutes later, I was left trying to catch my breath as I watched him leave, only stopping long enough to give Leon a few orders. From there, I returned to my room. By this time, Monica called back, but I would have to talk to her later. For now, I needed to get some makeup on my face, and I needed to find something to wear.
Ciara would understand that her father was concerned about his grandfather, and once I was fully dressed and looked no worse for wear, I realized how much time had passed with no word from Cillian. It was in that moment that I realized I didn’t care whether the elder Brannington lived or died. He’d been the one responsible for the murder of my mother and sister. As those in criminal organizations often thought, something comforted me.
An eye for an eye.
In Ronan’s case, he had two eyes to pay for. And, he would. Whether his life ended today, or some day after, I knew he would be headed straight to Hell. I couldn’t think of a more fitting place for someone who had made the lives of those he claimed to love a nightmare. For Cillian’s sake, I hoped the payback would be fitting. For me, none of it would bring those I’d lost back, so it didn’t matter to me one way or another.
Ashes to ashes. Dust to Dust.
Several hours later, I returned home. After filling in Kingston on our grandfather’s condition, I headed home. There was nothing more I could do tonight at the Mater, so I drove in a daze back to my penthouse. Once there, I realized how late it was. Reagan and Ciara would both likely be in bed, and that was for the best. It wasn’t as if I would be good company for anyone, anyway.
Reminding myself that they were sleeping, I was quiet as I slipped inside. Most all of the lights were off as I had figured. Being as quiet as I could, I walked over to the wine fridge, then removed a bottle of Irish whiskey from inside of it. There was no need to bother with a glass, because I would finish what was left inside. Even if I didn’t, Reagan rarely drank alcohol.
I sat down and twisted off the cap, but jumped right back up. Antsy, I knew it was from agitation more than anything else. I needed to rant and to rave, to scream at the Heavens, much like I used to do when a boy, but I couldn’t inside this place. Deciding it best to head to the roof, I slipped out one door, then climbed the short set of steps that led to the rooftop deck. Once there, Istood near the concrete ledge, then took a swig from the open bottle.
Maybe I’d become so used to drinking because I did not feel the burn I needed to, nor did I feel any sense of relief even as I took a few more in rapid succession. What once used to leave a trail of fire in its wake as it left me lightheaded, now only kept me in this same miserable state.
It would figure that the one night I need the drink to help, it won’t.
It was par for the course of my life. Only one other time had I felt this empty...this cold...this helpless...And that had been after I had found out about Reagan’s demise. Only, she wasn’t dead. She’d survived, and I’d been put through Hell for nothing. And the worst part was that I couldn’t even stay mad at her.
Who could blame her?
