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The drunken man is nowhere to be seen. If I didn’t know better, I might have thought this was his twin. But I know Ciaran intimately, so I can tell it’s him.
Anger flares in ice-blue fire from his accusing stare, and for the first time ever, I find myself afraid of this man.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
CIARAN
My head is pounding like a bitch, and my stomach is roiling. And not just from the amount of whisky I so stupidly imbibed.
I can’t believe I was such an idiot. Getting pissed up, leaving the door to the suite unlocked… What the hell?
I couldn’t quite fathom what was going on when I got out of the shower and found Maricela was gone. At first, with my mind addled like it was, I thought she must be in the lounge, but I sure as hell sobered up fast when I realized my mistake.
Never mind the fact that she’s managed to get as far as she has. If I hadn’t seen her walk nonchalantly across the yard to the vehicle I’m sitting in, about to trawl the streets looking for her, then I would never have believed it.
And if Maricela hadn’t delivered herself directly into my lap - literally - I have no doubt she might actually have escaped the compound. She really was that close.
It’s a stark reminder never to underestimate this woman again.
Digging out my phone, I ensure every one of the gates on the compound is secured, before I make any attempt to leave the vehicle. Then I call Callum so he can call off the search.
“I’ve got her,” I tell him without any further explanation.
Liam, who was about to drive me, returns to the car, pulling his gun from his holster as soon as he realizes what’s going on. Satisfied that every eventuality is covered, I climb back out of the SUV, never loosening the grip I have on Maricela’s bicep, which is undoubtedly hard enough to bruise.
I don’t care right now. She’s made a fool of me, and I have no doubt I’ll be hearing about it from both Liam and Callum.
My brother is furious and out for blood. Well, I’ve only myself to blame for that.
And Róisín, who I allowed far too much access to my little captive.
Not to mention Maricela herself.
I’m going soft in my old age.
Well, no more. It’s time for damage limitation. This woman has made a fecking fool of me.
I drag a stumbling Maricela back towards the compound and she protests with every step. Her eyes are wild with fear and defiance, but I refuse to let it sway me.
As we approach, I see Callum waiting with a group of guards. His expression is a mix of relief and annoyance, and I can see him itching to unleash his anger on one of us.
He's been on at me that something like this was bound to happen sooner or later, but to my detriment, I've refuted his claims that I've granted our prisoner too many liberties.
"About time," he mutters when he sees me approaching with Maricela in tow. "You screwed up, Ciaran."
I don't need his reproval right now. I'm well aware of my mistakes, but first, I need to secure Maricela within the compound walls.
Pushing through the gate, we enter the courtyard where Liam is now waiting with a set of handcuffs in his hand. My brother nods at him to put them on her and I don't argue since I'm certain he'll overrule anything I say right now, and I don't want that kind of dissent in front of our men.
"Wh-what?" Maricela's eyes go wide, and her voice quivers as Liam wrenches her arms behind her back. I think she's finally realized how serious things are. Especially when Liam takes her from me and carts her off to the basement instead of back to my suite.
The heavy metal doors slam shut behind us as we arrive underground. Maricela stumbles forward, obviously disoriented by the sudden darkness. After righting herself, she stands, trembling and wide-eyed, as she looks around, taking in the empty cells lining the walls. Each one bears the scars of those who have attempted to defy the Maguire family. The bloodstains on the floors, the etchings of desperation and fear on the walls, and the remnants of broken spirits, all serve as a chilling reminder of the consequences she now faces and the horrors that await her if she continues on this path of resistance. That’s exactly what it’s meant to do.
Maricela's eyes dart between the cells, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. She knows what those cells mean, what they represent.
At Callum’s insistence, she’s frog-marched into the center of one of the dimly lit rooms that houses two uncomfortable metal chairs. Liam pulls off her shoes, and Maricela shivers as the coldness of the concrete seeps into her bare feet.
Everyone is on edge, the atmosphere tense with the knowledge that Maricela's escape attempt has exposed vulnerabilities in our operation. No one likes loose ends, and Maricela has become just that. Callum paces back and forth, his face red with anger.
