Her expression turned fierce, and he braced himself for a blistering lecture on why she wasn’t a criminal. “I, for one, don’t consider it criminal to protect yourself or the ones you love against a corrupt system.”
“Hear, hear,” Brody cheered under his breath, while Reagan winked approvingly.
Sliding an arm around Aria’s waist, he steered her toward the front door. As proud as he was of her—and he was indeed incredibly fucking proud—he was a bit worried if he kept her there another second she might get the other ‘inmates’ to riot. And while said riot would no doubt be highly amusing to observe, he wasn’t going to put her or their child in harm’s way.
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starving. The food here is dismal.”
“Agreed,” Reagan said with a groan. “A hot shower and a hot meal are definitely in order.”
Sean was waiting for them at the curb, a wide grin stretched across his face. “Took you long enough!” he called.
Killian frowned down at the woman tucked up against him. “That’s the last time I let you two spend any time alone together. He was never this cheeky before.”
Mischief sparkled in his wife’s pale eyes. “What can I say? It’s my sacred duty to share my knowledge with the youth.”
He was leaning down to whisper in her ear about the state of her ass once he got her home, when a glint of metal caught his eye. Terror gripped him as his instincts took over, shoving Aria to the ground and throwing his body over hers.
“Get down!” he screamed at Reagan and Brody, a moment before the world erupted around them.
Time itself seemed to slow as gunfire roared, the sounds muffled by the thundering of his own blood in his ears. Closing his eyes, he pressed himself against his woman.
And prayed.
Take me. Take me if you have to, but let Aria and the baby live. Please, God, don’t take them from me.
“Killian!”
Brody. Thank god. Forcing his eyes open, Killian took stock of their surroundings. The gunfire had ceased, and as far as he could tell, he hadn’t been hit.
Sitting up, he pulled Aria up with him, running his hands over her body. “Are you hurt? Did they get you?”
“No. No, I’m okay.” Face pale, she laid a trembling hand on her stomach. “I–I hit the ground pretty hard, though.”
“Fuck. I’ll call Naomi, have her meet us at the house.”
“Okay. I…” Her frantic gaze shifted, locked on something behind him, and somehow her face paled even further. “Oh, god. Oh, god, no.”
Before he could stop her, she was on her feet, running. And when he turned to call for her, to tell her to stop, his eyes found what had put that look on her face.
As if in a trance, he rose, every step feeling as though he was walking through water as he walked down the stone steps to the bloodied body waiting for him beside the car.
Aria was already there, cradling Sean’s head in her lap, stroking his hair as he dragged in a rattling breath. His lips moved, and sound escaped, but nothing that could be recognized as words could be heard.
“Shhh,” Aria whispered, brushing his hair from his blood-soaked face. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”
But when she lifted her head, Killian saw the lie in her eyes.
Dropping to his knees, he took his cousin’s hand in his. “Save your strength, son,” he said, praying his voice sounded far stronger than he felt.
“Aw, fuck.” Reagan’s quiet voice reached his ears a moment before she knelt beside him.
He reached for her, then did a double-take when he found her hand slicked with blood. “You’re hurt.”
“Through and through. I’ll get Naomi to patch me up and I’ll be fine.”
Too numb to argue, he simply nodded. Hand in hand, they ignored the chaos around them as they sat vigil with their cousin. A boy with his entire life ahead of him, the world at his fingertips.
And they watched as the light of that bright, promising life left his eyes.
