“I’m not—”
The sound of the slap is louder than the shout. I see Padraig’s head whip sideways. I move, but not fast enough.
“Padraig!“ Seamus’s voice pierces the chaos.
Everything spins.
Da isn’t finished. He swings again. Misses. This time, it’s meant for me.
“You gonna hit me too, Da?” I spit, full of venom. “Try it.”
“You’re not my son.”
Then his fist flies.
It’s not a punch. It’s a fucking wrecking ball.
I don’t remember the moment it lands. Only the fall. The sound of it. My body slamming down the stairs. Each thump another betrayal. Boots scraping. Elbow cracking. Skull bouncing.
The world blinks out.
I hear voices. Distant. Warped.
“Liam,” someone says. “Hey. Look at me.”
Padraig.
Nothing. I’m floating.
A grunt rips out of me. My throat’s raw.
My eyes fight me, but I open them.
Everything is haze.
“There,” someone breathes—Cillian? “He’s okay, right?”
“I don’t know,” Padraig says. “Dar. Can you move your arms? Legs?”
I try.
Fingers twitch. Ankles flex. I groan. “Fuck.”
“You scared the shit out of us.” Padraig squats next to me.
“I feel like I got tackled by one of Connor’s football teammates,” I mumble. “Help me up.”
“Not yet,” Seamus warns, panicked. “You’re not supposed to—”
“I’m fine,” I lie. My voice is hoarse. Broken.
Padraig slides an arm behind me. Cillian’s on the other side.
“Careful,” he murmurs. “Tell me if it hurts too much.”
Itallfucking hurts so I say nothing. I let them lift me.Excruciating. I lean against my twin, body sagging like it forgot how to hold weight.
“Let’s get downstairs, lads.” Padraig gestures to the younger brothers.
