Declan and Cormac grab his legs as he tries to wiggle around. We place him in the barrel, and he sobs as we fill it up with rocks. He cries in pain from the weight, but we just keep filling it until he’s covered up to his neck.
“This is for Elena, my brother, and Cian, you motherfucking piece of shit,” Finn snarls.
Anthony screams as we place the lid on the barrel while he’s still alive, sealing it tightly and rolling it off the edge of the boat, just like the others.
The splash radiates through me as we watch him sink deep into the lake’s dark depths.
I can’t imagine it will take him long to die, truthfully, he probably deserves worse. But this will have to do for what he’s done to our family.
We all sit on the boat in silence for a while, the slight current shifting us back and forth.
“I think it’s safe to say they’re at the bottom by now,” Cormac offers.
“I’d appreciate no more cleanup for a couple of months. I think I threw out my back,” Declan says, and I nod in agreement.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Finn states, turning on the ignition as we sail back to shore and back to where we belong, leaving the Amante legacy behind us.
40
ELENA
I’m notsure how long I sleep. All I know is my mouth is drier than the desert, and I desperately need something to eat.
I turn to the left, patting the bed for Cillian, but he isn’t there.
“I ordered food. Are you hungry?” he asks from the other direction.
I blink and squint to find him sitting at the table with a ridiculous amount of food trays.
“You’re an angel,” I say, getting up off the bed and walking towards him. I don’t even consider the chair as I take my seat on his lap, and he opens lids to different trays. “What time is it?”
“Seven”
“Morning or evening?”
“Morning, it’s Thursday.”
I grab a piece of toast, slathering it with strawberry jelly as everything that’s happened over the last few days catches up with me. Cillian is rubbing my back in a soothing motion, and just lets me eat while I gather my thoughts.
“Anthony is dead?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want to know what happened,” I tell him honestly.
Shooting him weighs on my conscience already. I don’t want to know how he died or what they did. I hate that I still have an ounce of empathy for him. He ruined our lives and took my father from me. He was a vile person, yet I somehow still feel responsible for everything that transpired.
“It was unavoidable,mo stór.”
“I know.”
“None of it is your fault. You have nothing to feel guilty for—nothing.”
I dip a strawberry in whipped cream and eat it before turning in Cillian’s lap to face him.
“Shouldn’t I feel more sad?”
He pets down my messy hair and gives me an easy smile.
