"I can't do this again," she whispers."I can't go through this again.The watching.The waiting.The fear.I can't."
"You won't have to."
"You don't know that."
"Yeah, I do."I tilt her face up gently, making sure she's looking at me."Because I'm not letting him get to you.Whatever it takes.However long it takes.He's not touching you."
"Devin—"
"I mean it, Enya.He's done.Finished.Over.He just doesn't know it yet."
She stares at me, searching for lies, for cracks, for reasons not to believe me.
She won't find any.
"Okay," she whispers finally, voice small but steady.
"Okay?"
"Okay.I believe you."
I pull her close again.Let her press against me.Let her take what she needs.Let her shake and breathe and slowly, slowly calm down.
And I make a silent vow.
Declan Fahy dies soon.
By my hands.
And nothing, not the club, not the gardaí, not God himself, is going to stop me.
16
ENYA
Ican't stop shaking.
Devin's holding me on the couch, one arm around my shoulders, the other hand stroking my hair in slow, steady movements.But my body won't listen.Won't calm down.It just keeps trembling like I'm freezing even though the flat's warm.
I see you.
The words loop in my head, over and over.Three words that mean everything, that mean Declan was here, right outside my door.Close enough to knock.Close enough to slide that note under.
Close enough to hurt me.
"I'm sorry," I whisper against Devin's chest."I'm sorry, I just can’t…”
"Stop apologizing."His voice is low.Steady."You've got nothing to be sorry for."
"I'm falling apart.I should be stronger than this."
"You are strong.You're just scared.There's a difference."
I press my face harder against him, trying to breathe.Grounding myself in the solid warmth of him makes me feel safer than I should be feeling.
"He was right there," I say, my voice muffled."What if you hadn't been here?What if Warren had been home?What if?—"
"But I was here.And Warren's safe with your mam.And you're safe now."
