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“Am I?”
I thought about the way Clover had recoiled from my touch, flinched at my voice. How I had doomed her to a fate far worse than the one she’d faced in Howth simply by being near her. But mostly, I thought about how, once again, I’d failed to save a woman I cared about. They’d hurt her, and as soon as they found us, they were going to do it again just to torture me.
“Listen.” Jack stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder as she steered me toward the darkness of the stairwell. “I know how ya feel. When I retired, I felt like my whole life was over. I didn’t know who I was without the Rangers. I had no family, no purpose, no fuckin’ reason to live.”
If my bullet wound had been able to make a sound, it would have groaned just as loud as the planks beneath my bare feet as I gritted my teeth and began to climb.
“I was so depressed that my neighbor signed me up for a baking class just to get me outta the house and encourage me to consume somethin’ other than whiskey. And that’s where I met my girl.” Jack sucked her teeth. “I dunno why she puts up with me, but thanks to that woman, I have a reason to get outta bed now. Or not, if ya know what I mean.”
Jack chuckled and elbowed me in the side as we reached the top of the stairs, eliciting a grunt of pain.
“Oh, shite. Sorry, lad.”
I looked up and found one large space, about the size of the bakery downstairs, that had been sectioned into a sitting room, kitchen, and dining area. The lights were off, but the curtains were open, allowing just enough ambient light in to illuminate the edges of the furniture and cabinets.
More creaking and groaning echoed through the stairwell, and Jack and I turned to find Kate coming down from the second floor.
“Got her in the shower and put a first aid kit and some toothbrushes and spare clothes on the bed for ya. Had a few things from my son that should fit.” She smiled, but the expression faded as soon as she met my gaze.
Kate looked away immediately, like she’d done downstairs, and Jack pulled her in for a hug.
“You look just like her boy,” Jack explained. “Never had the pleasure of meetin’ the fella, but … he was Kate’s pride and joy.”
Was.
Fuck.
I didn’t know what to say.
“G’wan now.” Jack waved me off. “Ya kept us up past our bedtime. Just keep the lights off, and for fuck’s sake, try to be quiet.”
“Thank you,” I rasped, placing a hand on both of their shoulders.
Jack gave me a small salute before leading Kate toward their bedroom.
As I watched them go, that ember in my chest flickered.
CHAPTER 25
DAMIEN
My injuries were fucking throbbing by the time I made it to the top of the stairs, but the pain was nowhere near as bad as it had been those first few days. If I could avoid infection a little longer, I might actually be okay.
Until they find you. Then, you’ll wish you’d died of infection.
Blowing out a breath, I dragged a hand over a week’s worth of beard and glanced around the room, hoping for a distraction from the terrifying future that was breathing down my neck.
The ceiling had a steep pitch—like an attic—so the only useable space was directly in the center, where an old brass bed sat, facing the stairs. The surface was lumpy and sagged in the middle, and it probably groaned even louder than the floorboards when you sat on it, but to a lad who hadn’t slept in a bed on dry land in over a week, it looked like fucking heaven.
The shorter walls, where the roof sloped down, were lined with boxes and other assorted bullshit, but on the far wall, across from me, there was nothing but a single door. Golden light and the sound of running water streamed out through the cracks.
Clover.
I wondered how she was doing. If she was still upset with me. Still stuck inside that nightmare.
Walking over to the bed, I pulled the gun out of my waistband and set it on the quilt next to the clothes and supplies Kate had laid out for us. As I stared down at them, I wanted to feel grateful, or happy, or relieved, but the sight did nothing more than stir that deep, dark, swirling void inside of me. I didn’t know why Kate’s act of kindness made me feel so angry, so hopeless. Maybe it was because she was trying to mother me, and it reminded me that I didn’t fucking have one. Or maybe it was because those clothes had belonged to a dead man, and soon, they were going to belong to another one.
No. I wasn’t that lucky. My father would rather torture me beyond the brink of insanity than kill the only heir to his Bratva reign. He wouldn’t relent until he broke me. Until he shattered me completely and glued the pieces back together in his likeness.
