“I understand,” she whispers, and keeps looking down at the gun for long enough that I run out of patience.
“I’ll be back,” I mutter, and then turn.
Aurora is staring at the wall, barely breathing, but the way she’s twisting her fingers tells me she’s as eager to get out of here as I am.
“Let’s go.”
I nod at Mac to move in front of us and she follows him wordlessly.
It’s only when the car is moving that I ask her where she lives. Jersey is where we live too, and her house is less than a mile away from ours. It’s fucking insane that Da doesn’t know what the fuck is going on with James, though by now I guess Blake put him and that rapist fucker in the bunker back home, so Da has to know something went down.
And I’m going to get my answers when we get there.
For the time being, I take advantage of the quiet ride and close my eyes. I don’t sleep, there’s no way I ever could with this much rage burning in my veins, but something tells me I’m in for a long night.
Mac has barely started to slow down when Aurora opens the door and sprints to the front door of a run-down house.
“Fuck,” I grind out and run after her.
“Duffy!” she screams at the top of her lungs, and from deep in the house comes a growl that sounds pained and feral.
“Rory!”
I barely reach her when she’s on the move again, to a door next to the stairs, and she runs down faster than I think is safe since there’s no light at all except for a tiny window in the far wall.
And for the second time today I feel my heart turn to stone.
The boy is beyond battered, and he too is tied up, but with chains. He fights against them as hard as any man I’ve seen, and breaks down crying when Aurora reaches him, kneels in front of him, and wraps her arms around him.
She doesn’t cry, she just holds him.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she repeats while Duffy just shudders and cries.
I can’t tell his age, not in this light, not even when I get closer, but I can see how skinny he is, how many bruises are on his face and his body.
Yeah, I’m for sure going to enjoy making James pay for this.
Duffy’s eyes snap up to me when I step closer, a snarl curving his upper lip, and he looks like he’s ready to tear off the wall if I do one wrong thing.
I can’t blame him.
I debate how to free him. The chains are looped around bolts on the wall, and a lock the size of my fist is holding them together.
I take out my gun and shoot before Duffy or Rory can protest or even begin getting worried.
“Don’t you fucking hurt my sister!” He’s shouting at me before he realizes what I did, and I’m grateful he doesn’t immediately attack when his arms fall to his sides.
“I’m not going to hurt either of you,” I tell him. I put my gun back in its holster and raise my palms. “But I am going to hurt your father.”
“Who are you?” he demands.
“I’m Eian Dempsey, I’m?—”
“You’re Ronan’s son.” I scowl at the interruption but nod and let it pass this time.
“Yes.”
“Dad’s talked about you a few times.”
