"Breathe," I tell her. "Slow and deep. In through your nose, out through your mouth."
She tries. I can see her trying. But her body won't cooperate. The gasps keep coming, faster and faster.
"Aoife." I take her face in my hands, forcing her to focus on me. "You're safe. You're going to be okay. But I need you to breathe with me.”
Her eyes lock on mine. Wild. Terrified.
"In." I demonstrate, breathing in slowly through my nose. "Out." I breathe out through my mouth.
She mimics me. The first breath is shaky, barely controlled. But the second is better. And the third.
"That's it. Good girl," I say. "Keep going. Just keep breathing."
The security man returns with a bottle of water and a throw blanket from one of the sitting rooms. I drape it around Aoife's shoulders, and she clutches it with shaking hands.
"Status?" I ask Aidan without looking away from Aoife.
"Dillon's alive. Barely. Ambulance is three minutes out. Security swept the grounds. No sign of the shooter."
Of course, there isn't. Whoever did this planned it perfectly. Knew exactly when and where to strike. Knew we'd all be in that room, signing those contracts.
This wasn't random. This was targeted.
"It's my fault," Aoife whispers. The words are so quiet I almost miss them.
"What?" I lean closer.
"I was standing there." Her voice is hollow. Empty. "Right where he was. He moved slightly. I stepped back. The bullet..." She's staring at nothing, seeing something I can't. "It was meant for me."
That bullet was meant for her.
And her father took it instead.
The sirens are closer now. Red and blue lights flash through the windows, painting the walls in alternating colors. Medics rush past us into the drawing room. More security. More chaos.
I keep my hands on Aoife's shoulders, anchoring her. Keeping her here. Present. Because if I let go, I think she might shatter into pieces, and then I’ll have no fucking idea what to do.
We stand in the hallway, covered in her father's blood, while the world falls apart around us.
What a great fucking way to start a marriage.
CHAPTER SIX
Aoife
THE SHOCK WEARs off slowly.
Like ice melting. Like fog lifting. Like waking from a nightmare only to discover you're still in it.
One moment I'm pressed against the hallway wall, wrapped in a blanket that smells like someone else's life, watching medics rush past with equipment I can't name. The next moment, I'm standing. Moving. My legs work again, though I don't remember telling them to.
"Where are you going?" William's hand closes around my upper arm. Not roughly, but firmly. Like he thinks I might bolt.
He's not wrong.
"The hospital." My voice sounds strange. Distant. Like it's coming from someone else's throat. "I need to go to the hospital."
"Aoife." He steps in front of me, blocking my path. "You can't just…"
