The soldier finds a string hanging from the ceiling and pulls it. Yellow light floods the room.
The five of us move forward, checking the first cell. I gasp. There are bones scattered on the brick floor. A skull. Human bones. I turn away, gripping the back of Killian’s shirt as he curses and moves to the second cell. This one is empty.
A weak moan comes from the last cell.
We hurry forward.
And I cry out, “Celia!”
She’s there, her head propped against the damp brick wall, her eyes barely open, too weak to move. She’s gaunt and still in the same clothes she was wearing when she sacrificedherself at the gas station. One cheekbone has an ugly yellow bruise. But she’s alive. My knees buckle with relief.
Killian tugs on the padlock then rattles the door. “We’ll need to find a key,” he says to the men. “I saw a keyring hangin’ by the door at the top of the stairs.” As they hurry off, Killian leans down and presses his forehead against the bars. “We’re gonna get you out, love. You injured?”
I squat beside Killian and grip the bars. “Oh, Celia. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
She doesn’t move, but she tries to smile. “Glad… to… see you, Mama,” she breathes out, her voice barely a whisper. “Rona?”
I nod quickly, tears blurring my vision. “She’s fine. She’ll be so happy to see you.”
The men return with the keyring. It seems like forever, but is probably less than a minute until two soldiers are gently gripping Celia beneath each armpit and lifting her off the cement floor.
She moans. I rush in and rest a hand on her back, taking in the dark, damp cell she’s been living in with horror. A bucket in the corner. No water, no food in sight. He had to be giving her at least water for her to survive this long. But to keep an elderly woman in these conditions. This is beyond cruel. He doesn’t see anyone as human.
There’s a heat building in my chest that feels like flames licking up my neck, setting my face on fire. I grind my teeth as one of the men finally sweeps her off her bare feet and carries her toward the stairs.
At the bottom, Killian say, “Get her to a hospital.”
I squeeze her freezing hand and promise her we’ll see her there in a bit.
When it’s just me and Killian left, he turns and cups my face. His eyes search mine. “You all right?” His thumbs stroke my cold cheeks. “Maybe you should go with her, love.”
I know what he’s saying. Whatever he’s about to do to Michael, he doesn’t think I should see it. I don’t blame him after the way I reacted when he gutted Ernesto Torres.
But this is different. This is my devil. My burden. The man who kidnapped, raped and tortured me. The man who kept my daughter from me. He won’t leave this earth without me giving him some of that pain in return. He thinks he broke me. Damaged me. Made me weak. He didn’t. I need to prove that to myself if I’m going to get past this and have a normal life.
I push up on my toes, seal my mouth against Killian’s. The warmth, the comfort, the courage I get from him is immeasurable. When I pull away, I say, “I need him to know he didn’t break me. That I’m going to have a happy life after he’s gone.”
Killian searches my eyes. Then he nods once. “If that’s what you need, Sam, that’s what I’ll give ya.”
He interlaces our fingers, and we walk back into the room where a furious Michael is struggling against the chains. We’re a united front. A team. I remember when Killian told me I wouldn’t be facing my devil alone anymore. He’s about to keep his promise.
Michael glares at us. “You may have won this round, but the war you’ve started will be your undoing. You’re nothing but a low class thug, Donnelly. You have no idea whose money you’re messing with. Let me go now and they may kill you quickly.”
Killian snorts, then ignores him as he has a short conversation with the last Italian soldier before he’s dismissed.
He then leads me over to the far wall. Uncertainty pinches his expression as he says, “Last chance. You’re sure you want to be here for this?”
I nod. Then watch in fascination as the rage bleeds into Killian’s eyes, darkening them right before he turns away from me.
Silently he pulls his henley over his head, tosses it on the floor and stalks over to stand in front of Michael. I admire the cut of bulging muscle rippling beneath a large Celtic cross tattoo as he rolls his shoulders and curls his fists at his side.
He stretches his neck from side to side. His voice is lethally calm as he says, “I haven’t seen Sam’s injuries yet, but I know they’re there. Such a big man beatin’ on a woman, yeah?”
I blink in surprise. Michael has the good sense to keep quiet, but I can see the arrogance in his eyes. In the curve of his mouth.
Killian must see it, too. “Oh, you think you’re the monster in the room, mate?” He chuckles, but it’s a sound that raises the hair on my arms. “You fed off her fear, now I’m going to feed off yours. I’m going to show you what a real monster is.” Killian steps forward and grabs Michael’s hand. One by one, he twists each finger until they snap. “This is for layin’ your hands on Sam.”
Michael grits his teeth, swallows the pain, but it’s there in his paling complexion, the heavy rise and fall of his breath and the sweat beading on his forehead. His smirk is gone.
