Page 64 of Then We Shatter

Why does my life suck so much? How would things have turned out if I’d been born into a different world? Having spent my formative years in Ireland with my aunt and cousins, I’d caught a glimpse of what normal might look like. They had their spicier moments, sure, and my uncle was in prison more often than not, but my cousins had choices I never had. They could go anywhere. Be anyone. I was always John McConkey’s son and heir.

I still am, I remind myself, but I don’t feel it in my bones. I never did, and when Malachy sidles up next to me, alerted to the activity at the warehouse, I see him with fresh eyes. He stepped up while I was stepping back. What if I stepped away completely? It’d be messy and painful, but…

“Is it them?” he asks.

I hand him my binoculars so he can see for himself. “We can’t say for sure. All three vehicles drove inside without anyone getting out.”

We’ve taken over the third floor of a deserted office block on the edge of the complex. Every window is broken, but the walls and partially intact roof protect us from the worst of the elements. It’s been dry today, but October in Boston is proving to be brutal, and my fingers and toes are numb. I’ve been fantasizing about lying on a beach with Katarina on the Gold Coast of Australia, or beneath a palm tree on some isolated island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Bliss.

“There’s only one way to find out if it’s them,” says another new arrival. “Time for us to go in.”

My grip on my temper is only marginally better than my grip on reality. I take a breath before straightening up and turning to Lorcan.

“We’ve had this discussion and the answer’s still no,” I say icily.

“He needs to be a part of this,” Malachy replies, expanding on Lorcan’s scowling response. “More than any of us.”

“And more than any of us, he’ll be affected by what goes down here.” I say without taking my eyes off Lorcan. I refuse to be out-glared by my middle brother. “My decision is final. When we move in, you stay here. You can help keep track of comms.”

It wasn’t two months ago that Lorcan had a knife to Ronan’s throat. This discussion isn’t one I need to get into, but Malachy has to have the last word. “Killian, he’s ready.”

Not trusting myself with a response, I leave the pair to go check my kit. In addition to my handguns and blades, I have grenades, smoke bombs, extra ammo and a M4 assault rifle. Every other member of our team starts moving too. They’ve all been assigned roles. Some will take up sniper positions around the warehouse, and the rest are split between me and Malachy. I’m not going to change things up now.

“Let’s move out.”

I’m one of the last to leave and block Lorcan’s exit. Malachy is in the stairwell, close enough to deliver his parting shot. “He’s been doing the work, Killian. You’re holding him back, and more than that, you’re knocking him down.”

Lorcan folds his arms. He knows it’s my call, and despite the encouragement from Malachy, he’ll accept my decision. But how can I make an informed decision when I’m the one who’s been out of the loop? By rights, I should trust Malachy’s judgement.

“You could be coming face to face with Ignacio, Diego or Tomas. Maybe all three. Can you guarantee it won’t trigger an episode?”

“Of course I can’t,” Lorcan replies. “But if I feel overwhelmed, I’ll remove myself. I have the tools to talk myself back from the ledge.”

“Did you go back to therapy?” The most he’s ever lasted is three sessions. He nods. “And it’s helping?”

He rolls his eyes. The footfalls in the stairwell are growing fainter. “We’ll soon find out unless you’re going to keep us here all fucking night.”

“I’m guilty of making some questionable decisions lately,” I warn. “Don’t make this another one.”

The air is sharp and my lungs burn as I lead my group of eight to the entrance where the armored cars entered the warehouse. Malachy has taken an equal number of men to the rear of the building. Lorcan stays with me.

We plant explosives to create our entry points, and once both teams are synchronized, the night explodes. A shredded roller shutter flies over our heads and light spills from inside the warehouse. I don’t check for Lorcan’s reaction, I have to trust him, and the best way to help him if he is struggling, is to deal with whatever and whoever we’re about to face.

The warehouse is crammed with wooden crates to create a warren where opposing sides can take cover and hide. The one thing in our favor is that the upper level is in serious disrepair and a partially collapsed metal stairway cuts off access. All the enemy fire comes from ground level.

Gunfire and shouting track us from left and right, followed by choked coughs as the first smoke bombs are set off. I pull on my mask and make my first kill before the smoke completely obscures him.

“One down,” I say into my comms.

There are more calls as we move deeper. Lorcan takes someone down and Malachy eliminates two. The bastard just had to beat us.

When the smoke begins to clear, our body count is up to nine. I’d estimate there were six in each vehicle entering the warehouse, plus the original three in the warehouse, making fifteen in total. That leaves six.

When I reach the first armored vehicle, the driver’s cab is empty and the door left ajar. I throw in a grenade and shut the door before moving on to the second. As I launch another grenade, the first vehicle implodes. No one’s going to be escaping tonight.

In an eruption of fresh gunfire, a bullet zaps past my ear just as Lorcan pulls me to the ground. We crawl behind the nearest crate and I quickly locate the gunman. I take the shot, but before I can celebrate another hit, one of our men has reportedly taken a bullet. Malachy is with him and kills the shooter. We’re lucky. Our guy is only wounded.

Four more to locate.