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FINN
So I should hide the hookers and guns?
DECLAN
Ignore him.
He’s taking this one hard.
And you?
DECLAN
I’m fine.
Speeding through traffic with near the same recklessness as last night, we barrel toward the club. Squeezing my hand on her thigh, Layla asks, “Are your brothers okay?”
“Yes.” I rub my thumb over her leg.
“You said your family…” Her voice trails off in confusion, knowing my parents have both long passed.
Pulling up to the club, we park behind a few police cars. Their lights and sirens are now off, the emergency over, and the uniformed officers are roping off the sidewalk in front of Deartháir with caution tape.
“Family isn’t always blood,” I solemnly reply, squeezing her thigh and sliding from the driver’s seat.
“Tris, what happened?” Layla asks as I help her from the car.
“Someone robbed the pub,” I straight-faced lie to her. “Go inside the club with Liam for me while I talk to the police for a minute.”
“Yeah. Sure.” She nods and follows Liam inside.
Crossing the caution tape, I let myself into the pub and eye the damage. It’s not the spilled liquor or busted bar stools that draw my attention. I’m engrossed in the distinct smell of urine and the large crimson pool in the center of the floor.
“Thank you, officer.” Declan shakes the hand of the man he’s speaking with.
“I wish the best for your friend,” he responds before pulling back his hand. “She put up one hell of a fight.”
I don’t need to survey the damage of the bar to know his words are true. She’s always had us to watch her back, but she has always been more than capable of taking care of herself.
The last police officer has barely walked out the door when Declan grabs a barstool and hurtles it at the wall. It splinters to pieces as it falls to the floor, and his scream fills the pub.
His nostrils flare as he expels deep, rage-filled breaths. “They treated her like a fucking animal, Tris. She killed one. But the others… They spent the night beating her. Fucking raping her. Torturing her for hours.”
He glares at me with pained eyes. “They fucking pissed on her before leaving her to die.”
“They’ll pay.” I grip his shoulder in solidarity. “She’s an Evans…”
“And you don’t fuck with the Evans,” Declan declares.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
LAYLA
Sitting at the bar with Liam and Finnigan, I sip my coffee as they each down a glass of whiskey.
Apparently, it really is always 5 o’clock somewhere…even at ten in the morning.
“Bean álainn, you are way too young and beautiful to be with Tristan,” Liam flirts with me as obnoxiously as he did the night he drove me here.
