Me: Tiernan down. Get her ready to move. I’m ten minutes out.
Leo: Copy. She’s angry. Hurry.
“Move,” I tell the boys, tucking the knife back in its place because I need the ritual. We skulk out the way we came, stepping over bodies and listening to the sirens loom ever closer. The south camera blinks back to life as we slip into the night,three shadows and a ruined man trying to convince himself it’s finally over.
Outside, Belfast inhales. I do too. I wipe Tiernan’s blood from my cheek with the back of my hand and taste iron and something like relief.
I killed thatbastardofor a lot of reasons, but the one that steadied my hand had her palm over her heart and my name in her mouth. I dive into the car and head for the motel, counting the beats until Cat’s voice is the next thing that hurts me.
CHAPTER 41
YOU LEFT ME
Caitríona
Leo plants himself in front of the door like a granite statue. The chain is latched, and my weapons sit on the desk with an imaginary tag titledThings You Can’t Touch Because A Man Decided So.
“Move,” I snarl for the hundredth time.
“No,” he replies for the same hundredth time, voice calm.
I pace the thin strip of carpet until it wants to peel. I’ve tried everything with this man, but he won’t budge. I’ve threatened, pleaded, ignored… Nothing. I’m teetering on the edge, near the point of hysterics.
So I try one last thing. “Christ on a bike, Leo, I will carve your name into a curse and teach toddlers to chant it. May your toast always burn. May your socks never dry. May every woman you ever love call you the wrong name.”
A smile twitches at his lips. “Noted.”
“And may your entire family line develop a horrible rash.”
He scratches his jaw, unimpressed. “We’re orphans, miss.”
“Then mayyoudevelop a rash.”
I rake my hands over my face and draw in a breath. The room smells like moisture and nerves. I could pick the chain in thirty seconds if he’d let me near it. I could go through the window if the drop didn’t look like a quick obituary. My skin is too tight. My heart is a battering ram against my ribs.
“He shouldn’t have gone alone,” I mutter. “He shouldn’t have?—”
“He didn’t,” Leo bites back. “He took men.” A beat. “He just didn’t takeyou.”
“That’s not helping.”
“It wasn’t meant to.” He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “If it makes you feel any better, he left me too. I was supposed to be out there protecting him. Instead, I’m stuck here with you.”
I spin on him. “You think tying me to the bedpost would’ve gone any better?”
He considers this gravely. “I had rope.”
“Mother of—” I break off, chewing rage until it tastes like blood. I stalk to the window, peel the curtain with two fingers, and stare at the parking lot lights bleeding into the dark. “If he dies, I will?—”
My voice falls away. I can’t even say it.
With an incessant ache thrumming in my chest, I do the stupidest thing: I pray. Not well. Not pretty. It’s a desperate whisper to a god I haven’t called in years. Keep Matteo breathing. I’ll take the consequence later. Please, keep him breathing.
My hand finds my chest like a magnet finds true north. My fingers brush the locket, then I press my palm over the blossom beneath the shirt,Livia, and hold until the ache steadies into something I can use.
Minutes stretch thin. The TV blares an obnoxious infomercial. I try to sit. I last exactly three seconds before I stand again and wear a rut into the carpet.
Leo’s phone finally buzzes.
