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Fuck, that last time I saw her, when the FBI agent was thanking her for her service… An animalistic roar slipped between my lips.

My fists burned with every new punch. I hit flesh and bone, even the floor beneath us, in my blind rage. I punched and punched until I couldn’t breathe anymore, until my knuckles throbbed with pain, until my rib cage ached under an invisible weight. Shoving away from the corpse, I sank down against the wall, chest heaving. My knuckles were split from impact with the stone floor.

I gasped for breath and closed my eyes.

When I opened them again, I was calm and the man in front of me was a bloody mess.

And very dead.

My brothers sat across from me, eyeing me warily.

“You all right?”

I regarded the bloody mess on the floor, then stretched out my blood-covered arms. My clothes were drenched. My fingers ached. And my chest constricted painfully.

Lifting my head, I met my twin’s gaze.

I smiled wryly. “Yeah, I’m great.”

Kyran got up and stepped over the corpse, almost slipping on the blood that oozed off the dead body. He stopped in front of me and held out his hand.

“Whatever is going on, we’re with you.”

I took my twin’s hand and let him pull me up, ignoring the sharp pain slicing through my fingers.

“Always,” Aiden echoed. “We Callahans stick together.”

I leaned back against the wall, my breathing was ragged.

“Tyran, what is your obsession with that girl? You kissed her once,” Kyran remarked, concern lacing his voice.

Sienna’s image lingered in my mind.

“Or did something more happen?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I focused on regulating my breathing.

“Brother, please let us help you.” My twin squeezed my shoulder, his voice imploring.

Aiden clutched my other shoulder more tightly. “Whatever is going on, just tell us how to help and we’ll do whatever you need.”

I closed my eyes, aware I looked like a madman about to lose his shit, and gritted, “I need to find Sienna.”

SIX

SIENNA

The loneliness got the better of me today.

I found myself at the local pub that was a short walk from my cottage, drinking sparkling water and chatting with local acquaintances who seemed intrigued by the fact that I’d come to—and stayed—in this village. Somehow, it seemed everyone in town was eager to leave, and it was hard for them to understand why I was still here.

Since I couldn’t exactly tell them I was hiding from an Irish mobster, I let them speculate. Some thought I was a famous writer. Not sure where that one came from, considering I could only write code. Others speculated I was a sad, possibly heartbroken, girl hiding from the world. A few guessed I was here incognito on some secret mission. The last two weren’t too far from the truth.

Of course I neither confirmed nor denied any of it.

“I give you six more months, and then you’ll leave us,” said Joseph, the old gatekeeper of the castle not too far from here. The large fort that hid a lot of the castle grounds was strictly forbidden to trespassers, so I stayed clear of it. Although I spent a good amount of time walking through the forest that surrounded it.

“You said that five years ago and the girl’s still here,” his wife, who stood behind the bar, retorted wryly. “Clearly she’s here to stay.”