I strain my ears to catch any sound of movement outside; for once, autism is on my side. My mother always said I could hear the grass grow, and in this moment, I cling to that heightened sense of hearing as an indicator that Aiden is unharmed. The muffled sound of a gunshot down the hall has me sighing in relief; that was him. That was his gun. He’s ok. A beat later, the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching has me sinking back against the tiled wall.
My trembling hands press into the cold, black tiles. I try to steady my breathing while adrenaline courses through my veins. Unfortunately, my fight or flight response has kicked in, and now I desperately need to pee, throw up, or both.
Footsteps sound on the tiles. I’m sure my spirit just left my body because that is not Aiden. I know it’s not Aiden because he’s barefoot and those footsteps are shod.
Please, just leave. Please, please, please.
The glint of a gun catches my eye before the unnervingly calm stare of a stranger meets mine. If he says anything, I cannot hear it, not with the rush of blood pounding in my ears. My gaze is fixed on the barrel of his gun as he lifts his arm and points it directly at me.
A meaty thumb pulls the hammer back with a click that echoes in the room. I will myself to move, but I’m frozen in place, unable to tear my eyes away from imminent death. His finger moves for the trigger, and I’m almost sure I see a flash right before his body jerks to the side, blood, skull fragments, and brain matter splattering against the wall.
Aiden steps forward, his gun smoking in his hand. He looks at the body on the ground as if he could grind it to mincemeat with his gaze alone, then turns to me, his cold, expressionless mask slipping and that warm gaze he usually reserves for meshining through.
“Katie.” He’s at my side in an instant, pulling me into a tight embrace. “Are you okay?”
I can’t answer. I can’t control my body; the only thing I can do is throw myself away from him in time to avoid vomiting all over him.
“It’s ok, bug. It’s ok. Don’t look, baby. Just focus on me,” he whispers soothingly, rubbing my back in gentle circles. I close my eyes and lean into his touch, trying to block out the horror before me. “I know, baby, I know it’s overwhelming. Just breathe with me, okay? In and out. Nice and slow,” he continues to comfort me as I struggle to regain control of my body. “You’re safe with me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
When I stop convulsing, he picks me up and carries me into the guestroom, where there are thankfully no dead bodies. “Look at me,” Aiden lowers himself onto his knees. “We’re going to get you dressed, and I’m taking you to the house in Tipperary tonight.”
“B-but,” I look in the direction of his bedroom.
“Let me worry about the bodies,” Aiden insists, his voice firm but gentle. “Right now, your safety is my priority. Trust me.” With a reassuring smile, he offers me his hands and gently pulls me to my feet before helping me dress and guiding me from the room.
There is a body on the landing, one at the bottom of the stairs, and another in the kitchen. “Who are you, John Wick?” Bile rushes up my throat as I fight to keep my composure. Aiden simply shakes his head, leading me out of the house without another word, grabbing a hoodie on the way out and putting it on, shielding his bare chest.
“Come on, bug,” I didn’t see him grab the keys or his phone, but he’s got both in one hand. His car flashes as it unlocks with a beep, and I numbly follow him inside. Once Aiden is sure that I’m buckled in, he starts the car and pulls out of the driveway, leaving the scene behind us.
Holding his phone under his chin, he starts making calls, his expression unreadable.
“Hello?”
“Robbie, I need you to haul arse to Foxrock. I’ve got some things I need to dispose of, and I haven’t got the time to do it myself.”
“Shit, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just need you to do me a favour. Can you handle it?”
“Yeah, not a bother. I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Robbie says through a yawn. “You’re sure you’re ok?”
“Get hold of,” Aiden glances my way briefly before fixing his gaze on the road ahead. “The lads. I’ve got a job that needs doing.”
“Walsh?”
“Walsh.”
“Shit,” Robbie mutters under his breath. It sounds like he’s rummaging around his house for something. Most likely trying to dress in a hurry. “Why now?”
“Katie was in the house.” Aiden doesn’t look at me, as if he’s trying to keep his emotions in check.
“Fuck, is she okay?”
“She’s fine. I’m taking her elsewhere for the night. Just see that the job is done tonight, and I’ll go over details in the morning,” he hangs up, I can see the tension in his jaw as he grips the steering wheel tighter. He’s not anxious or rattled;he’s pissed. If the white knuckle grip on the steering wheel doesn’t give it away, the set of his jaw definitely does. “You’re okay, bug,” he mutters. This time, I think that it’s more of a reassurance to himself than to me.
“Aiden?”
A low animalistic rumble sounds from his chest. “I’m going to fucking kill that prick.”
