“Don’t these buck eejits ever learn?”
“Doesn’t seem like it. Sean wants any competition eliminated so the men have no other choice but to serve him.”
“And what happens when you’re the only competition left?”
“I can only hope I beat him before it comes to that,” I reply, but my response lacks confidence.
“Whatever happens, I’m with ye.”
Normally I would argue, but the truth is, I need him. I need all the allies I can get.
We ride the rest of the way in silence, and when I drop Cian home, I see the front curtain part. It’s Amber.
She closes it a second later, clearly not interested in seeing her boyfriend being dragged into my shite once again.
Cian has lent me his car, but I plan on buying one as soon as I can because I can’t keep imposing on him. I know he doesn’t mind, but I do.
I drive away and am surprised I haven’t heard from Sean. He would have usually called on me by now. The radio silence worries me because I am certain he is up to no good.
When I pull into the driveway and see he isn’t waiting for me, I don’t know whether to be worried or relieved. This paranoia is expected because of what I’ve done, but I can’t let it get to me. I need my head in the game.
Parking the car, I decide to work on the castle as I wait for Sean to call, which I’m sure will be soon.
The castle is a work in progress with scaffolding holding the structure in place. Getting her back to what she once was has taken a back seat, but with Sean as the new owner, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knocks it down.
So many ghosts haunt this place. I think he’ll want a fresh start once he finally gets his throne.
Unlocking the front door, which has been replaced, I step inside, and like always, I’m hit with bittersweet memories. When she thrived, this castle was unmatched. Now, she barely stands. I can’t help but draw the comparisons between it and me.
The construction crew has done a great job, but seeing as I’m no longer the owner, as I signed my life over to Sean, she sits waiting. We all do.
Peering upward, I see most of the ceiling has been replaced, but the inside is still gutted. Only a few walls remain. My mum and Connor would be disgusted to see the state of her, as they took pride in their home. So much has changed.
Lost in the past is a dangerous place to be because it’s the present that has caused me the most harm, and now is no exception. I turn, but it’s too late. This trip down memory lane has cost me when my world is shrouded in darkness; thanks to the pillowcase shoved over my head.
I kick out blindly, but it’s in vain when someone sucker punches me straight in the guts.
Winded, I take a step back, only to be punched in the kidneys. And then the back.
Falling to my knees, I scramble to take off the pillowcase, but someone grips my arm and twists it back behind me, threatening to break it.
But I don’t go out like this.
I stop struggling and study the sounds around me, and when I hear an intake of breath to the left, I strike out with my free hand and connect with something soft. The wheeze alerts me that the man will be singing soprano for a few minutes.
I ignore the pain in my arm, which is about to be broken, and twist, elbowing my attacker in the shin. He releases me, and just as I’m about to rip off the pillowcase, a pain in my thigh has me gasping for air.
“Stop fightin’, or I swear to God, the next thing I stab will be your fucking throat.”
I recognize that voice, and honestly, I’m surprised it’s taken him this long.
“Hello, Cormac.”
I knew Rory’s father would find out the truth one day, and it seems that day is today.
Raising my hands in surrender, I don’t remove the knife Cormac stabbed into my thigh. I’ll allow him to avenge his son because we all want revenge on those who’ve wronged us. We deserve it.
“Yer joking me,” he snarls, and I can imagine him shaking his head. “Y’ll pretend everythin’ is all right after what ye did?”
“Nothing’s been all right in a long time. What’s right about Rory betrayin’ us? Him using Cami like she meant nothin’ to him.”
“Shut yer lyin’ mouth!” he snarls, ripping the pillowcase from my head.
Gathering my bearings, I see Cormac has two men I don’t recognize as reinforcements. They are out for blood.
“It’s true,” I state, never breaking eye contact with Cormac. “He got what he deserved.”
I won’t disrespect Cormac by lying to him. I owe him more than that.
He paces back and forth, clearly trying to wrap his head around this. I don’t know who told him, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is what he plans on doing with the truth.
“Yer da would be disgusted with what we’ve become,” he says, deep in thought. “When he died, he took a piece of us with him. Nothing’s been the same since he’s been gone.”
“Aye, yer right. He was a bastard, but things were a lot simpler with him here.”
“And it’s ’cause of yer dad that I’m not going to kill ye…but I am goin’ to hurt ye…awful bad.”
Nodding, I remain on my knees. There’s no point fighting—he won’t stop until he gets his revenge.
“He didn’t deserve to die that way,” he cries, reaching into his back pocket for a flick knife. “He was yer best friend!”
“The man I killed was not the boy I knew ’cause the Rory I knew would never sell me out. He would never betray me the way he did.”
Cormac inhales sharply, peering upward as if needing a moment to compose himself.
“Hold him up,” he orders his two men as he rolls up the sleeves of his white shirt.
The men do as they’re told and grip my arms—one on either side of me. My arms are out wide, akin to a crucifixion. I don’t struggle. I dare Cormac to do his best because this is his only chance to get his revenge.
I won’t be so complacent next time.
Cormac peers at me, no longer seeing the boy he knew but the man who killed his son. With a roar, he punches me in the jaw. My head snaps back with a sharp crack.
Cormac doesn’t allow me to recover from his brutal blows. He punches me over and over again. Each hit is more frenzied than the one before it. His men ensure I stay upright, holding me tight.
“Ye were like a brother to him!” he screams, punching me in the stomach, then the ribs. “And ya fucking killed him because of a whore!”
Spitting out a mouthful of blood, I glare at him through one eye as the other has closed over. “I killed him because he was a fucking pussy. And call her a whore again; I dare ya.”
Cormac launches forward, clenching my hair and arching my head backward. “Don’t you dare say that ’bout my son!”
He presses the tip of the blade to my throat.
“Go on then,” I dare with a smirk. “Do it.”
“What’s become of us?” he cries, shaking his head. “I treated ye like my own wain.”
“We’re not those people anymore, Cormac.”
“Aye, yer right. Say yer sorry, and I’ll let ye go.”
“I’m not sorry,” I counter, bracing for the repercussions of my confession. “He made his choice. I made mine. I won’t insult either of ye by sayin’ sorry ’cause given the chance, I would kill that fucker again.”