Scout doesn’t even struggle. His cheeks aren’t even tear-stained. His face is pale, and his eyes are wide with fear as his hands cling to the arm wrapped around him, as if he’s holding on for dear life.
He looks…broken.
Something inside me snaps.
I don’t remember deciding to move. One second, I’m standing there, the next, I’m slamming into Adrian with every ounce of force I have, driving him back into the wall as I knock Scout out of the way. The impact rattles the room, and Scout lets out a thin, terrified sound that cuts straight through me.
“Get him!” I roar.
Brennan is there instantly, pulling Scout to his feet.
I chance a look over at him as Scout collapses into Brennan, shaking violently as he buries his face against Brennan’s shoulder as if that’s the only safe place left in the world.
“Go! Get him out of here. Now!”
Brennan doesn’t hesitate. He just scoops Scout into his arms and runs.
Adrian, panicked now that he’s lost his hold on Scout, starts to fight back. But his moves are sloppy. Probably due to desperation.
We crash to the floor, our fists flying, but even if he manages to land a punch, I don’t feel a thing. I feel nothing but pure, undiluted rage.
I want him dead. I want him to understand exactly what it feels like to be powerless.
But Ronan is suddenly there, hauling me back before I cross that line. “Cormac, we’re exposed.”
Reality slams back into place.
I catch the sound of more gunfire outside as fresh orders come through the comms. I need to move, but I can’t just leave Adrian like this.
As if reading my mind, Ronan slams the barrel of his gun into the side of Adrian’s head as he attempts to climb to his feet.
He staggers and crashes into a low table, shattering the glass top.
Ronan keeps his focus on Adrian as he pushes me out. “Move.”
We sprint back through the house, making sure to cover Brennan’s exit. We’ve rehearsed this part the most because it has the highest margin for error. We might have Scout, but the fight doesn’t stop until he’s safely back at home with his family.
“Sullivan!” someone yells as we cross the threshold and head back out onto the ground.
But I don’t falter. I keep moving, relying on Ronan to stop me from getting shot because my focus is only on Scout.
We’re almost at the cars.
“I yield!”
Those two words are enough to cut through the roaring in my head.
I stagger to a halt and spin around just as Adrian staggers out of the house after us.
Blood is smeared across his temple from the wound Ronan inflicted, and his expensive suit is ripped to shreds, not that I give a shit. The fucker should be grateful he’s even able to walk, given the nightmare he’s put my son through.
In my eyes, even if I were to cut his limbs off one by one, it would be merciful compared to what I really want to do.
But every second I give to him is one less I give to Scout, and I would rather spend my time playing with toy rockets than shedding blood.
“I yield,” Adrian repeats, raising his hands slowly as his eyes fixate on my gun that I didn’t even notice I had pointed and aimed.
The sound that rips out of me might be a laugh.
