“Look, I hear what you’re saying, but I don’t buy it. You are nothing to them. Just a disposable pawn to be discarded in our game. I’m a nice guy. I’ll let you live. All you have to do is walk out of here. Tell Frank you aren’t cut out for the job. And then run away. Away from Boston.” I lean over the table, getting in his face. His cigarette smoke wafts in my face. It makes me look forward to the one I’ll have after I leave here. Hoping for his blood to be on my hands.
I’ve only given one person the chance to walk away alive, and that was Ewen. It’s not my M.O. but Ewen and his goodness are rubbing off on me, I guess. He once asked if I’d ever given someone a choice. I hadn’t. Now, I’m giving it a try. Seeing if Ewen is right about people choosing truth to save themselves.
The ash finally falls from his smoke, landing on his chest. He jumps a bit from the burn but doesn’t let it throw him off his task of being a cocky shit. He just pulls the smoke from his mouth and puts it out in the ashtray. Looking up at me, he says, “Reaper, your days are numbered. Then you’ll be nothing but another rumor.”
It’s at that moment I feel the sting of a blade slicing my flesh. My brain short-circuits. This has never happened. I turn to see a greasy guy holding a bloody knife similar to my favorite one. It cuts into human flesh with no issues—in and out effortlessly. Point and case, my side.
Fuck, that hurts, but I won’t let them know.
That’s when true chaos starts. I dodge back, reaching for where I have my gun tucked away. Both men charge, cornering me.
What is happening? I never let anyone get the upper hand. Is it Ewen’s softness making me mess up?
Before I can grip my gun, Dean stabs my other side. They’re grinning like maniacs. They want to kill me. I can’t have that. Not now. I have unfinished business with my Aingeal.
The force of the second blade pushes me back and I stumble, falling on my ass. The pain is crippling. I can’t think straight. But I can’t let these idiots be what takes me out. It’d be a stain on everything I’ve done.
Blow after blow hit me. My blood falls around us.My blood.I’m dizzy from the loss. They cackle like hyenas. But the way they think I will die so easily is comical. Yes, I’m in a position I’ve never experienced, but I won’t be dying here. I will be the one doing the killing.
The gun at my back feels heavy, reminding me it’s there. They haven’t seen it. Perfect. A sudden rush of adrenaline ebbs through me, giving me the strength to move. I grab it and whip Mr. Greasy across the face, the metal connecting with bone. He lurches back, giving me the space to move out of the corner. I quickly turn and shoot Dean point blank in the face. His head explodes, covering the ceiling and wall. Before anything else can be done, I turn and empty my clip into the moron screaming in pain. He falls silent.
Well, this fucking sucks. I want to burn this place down but I can barely walk, let alone pour gasoline and strike a match. A plan for another day.
I stumble out of the building, clutching my side, hoping it will slow the bleeding. The light-headedness is back—a sure sign I’m losing blood at an alarming rate.
The rain that was falling when I arrived has turned into a downpour, which doesn’t help my situation.
My vision tunnels, darkening at the edges and fading inwards. I think I’m close to blacking out. Fuck me, this is really bad.
I use my other hand to wipe the water from my face. Where’s my gun? Did I drop it?
That’s when I see it. Our Lady of Sorrows looms not far in the distance. Ewen is there. If I’m going to die, I want to see his face one last time.
The steps trip me up but I somehow make it to the heavy, gothic style doors. Banging my fist as hard as I can against the wood, I hope he hears me.
“Ewen!” I scream out as I collapse. If I die and can’t see him, then his name on my lips will have to do. I’m fading but continue to bang on the door, hoping to get his attention.
It’s in the moment I want to give up that the doors open. Ewen stands there in sweatpants and nothing else. If I wasn’t dying, I’d be drooling.
He instantly swoops down and cradles me to his chest. “Declan? What happened?” He frantically scans me, seeing all the blood coating my clothes.
I reach up and graze my fingers across his strong jaw. “I…just wanted to see you before I…die. Give me my last rites. One day…we can maybe meet again in Heaven.”
16
EWEN
NO! He can’t die. I just found him, allowed him into my life.This can’t be the end of him. If he came to me, it has to be God’s plan. I can save him. No, Iwillsave him.
I feel his neck and find his pulse. It’s there but barely. And being out here, practically drowning in the rain, isn’t helping. I drag him into the church and push the doors shut, shielding us from the outside. He lies there, looking at peace while covered in crimson.
What do I do to save him?
Caleb.He can save him. I can’t call 911. They’ll ask questions. Questions I don’t think Declan would want.
I search my pockets, no phone. It’s upstairs. As fast as I can I run through the church and up the stairs. The door slams into the wall, hard. I bet there’s now a hole from the knob. A problem for another time. My phone is right where I left it. I grab it and scroll to Caleb’s number while rushing back to Declan.
Dropping to my knees to be close to Declan, I check again for his pulse. Still there.
