Page 70 of Fractured Memories

That earns me a smile, and I kiss her. It’s slow and deep, and I’m tempted not to pull away. But I do, stepping back. “I’ll find you after.” I start to walk away, but then glance back, remembering I’m trying with her. “You can ask more questions then.”

Swiping the half-empty bottle on my way out, I rejoin Jude in the hall. His eyes drop down to the whiskey before holding out a hand. I chuckle as I place it in his palm.

“I drove the prick up here.” He tips his head back, taking two long pulls. “Not only did he drag me out of bed to take him to pick up his fucking sugar, but I had to pull a gun on him because he wouldn’t stop punching the fucking car door on the way back.” He takes another sip of whiskey. “It’s too fucking early for this shite, Kieran.”

I chuckle at the way his words sound lightly accented in his agitation and that exact phrase I’ve heard more times than I can count. I wonder if Jude ever realizes how much he’s picked up from the three of us over the last decade.

“Is Nolan here yet?”

“I sent Till to get him.” He hands me the whiskey as we head down the hall, and I cap it. “Rohan’s with Lochlan now.”

I scrub at my scruff. “You think we’ll find a second bullet in him?”

“It’s likely.” We turn a corner, and I hear shouting. Then a crash. “Maybe a third.”

Jude rushes forward, and I’m right behind him. Unsurprisingly, we enter the sitting room to find Rohan pinning Lochlan to the wall, several chairs overturned and an end table broken. Blood is soaked through Lochlan’s left shoulder, down his arm, and splashed across his neck. Jude clearly did a quick patch job to slow the bleeding, and Rohan is avoiding applying pressure to the area as he drives his weight against Lochlan’s chest.

“Will you fucking stop?” Rohan grits out.

“Get off me.” Lochlan’s voice is low and dangerous, his accent so thick the words are almost indiscernible.

“I told you to sit down. Not destroy the chairs.”

“I told you to fuck off.”

“Lo!” I bark as I stride forward. His lip is curled up in a snarl, and his blue eyes are so dark they nearly look black. “Little early to be getting into trouble, yeah?”

His chest heaves, and even I can admit, he looks scary right now. This is the side of Lochlan that rarely comes out. The dark, twisted parts of him that were fucked up when we were kids, the demons that can take hold. This version of him has ripped people apart with his bare hands, and I need him to calm down before we have to actually hurt him.

“Let him go, Ro.” Rohan shoots me a look, but I shake my head. “Let him go.”

With a flare of his nostrils, clearly not agreeing with the decision, Rohan steps back. Lochlan stumbles a little before righting himself and glaring at Rohan.

I hold out the bottle of whiskey. “Come have a drink while we get you cleaned up.”

“I don’t want to fucking sit here. I want to make the fucker who shot me bleed.”

“I know it.” I shift my body to subtly block him. “I’ll let you shred the bastard once we get him. But I can’t have you bleeding out in the meantime.”

“I’m not⁠—”

“Lochlan,” I snap, my voice growing agitated. “I know you are pissed that someone got you. I know you’re even more angry that they caught you off guard. I get you want to rip the city apart to find the prick. Trust me, I do.” I cross to him, gripping his good shoulder and making him look at me. “But I can’t have something happening to you. You’re my brother, Lo. I need you to get fixed up before we do anything else.” I dig my fingers into his uninjured skin. “Got it?”

It’s one of the only things that gets through to Lochlan, the reminder of the limited family we have. He has the darkest depths of us all, but he might have the best heart, too. It’s the only way to pull him back from the brink.

Chest still heaving, he snatches the whiskey bottle from me and takes a seat. I don’t need to ask what happened to the others. I’ve been around Lochlan enough times after he’s been in a fight or shot. He turns violent when he feels backed into a corner, and he needs to let that out in some form. If he wants to destroy my furniture, that’s fine.

Mika was the one who finally got Rohan and me to see that. She’s far too smart, too good at reading all of us. Even if I’ve never really said it to Lochlan, I get what’s going through his head in these moments. I much prefer spilling blood to handle my problems, too.

None of us speak as Rohan grabs another bottle and fills glasses. He kicks the broken pieces of my table out of the way, offering Jude and me a drink. And that’s how Nolan finds us, sipping whiskey in silence.

“Mr. Byrne,” Nolan addresses only Lochlan. He doesn’t flinch at the mess or the blood all over his body. “Are you ready?”

More than once, Rohan and I have had to hold Lochlan down for Nolan to work. But he always gives him the option to be cooperative first.

Lochlan jerks his head in a nod, lifting the bottle back to his lips. Nolan picks a chair up from the ground, placing it across from Lochlan, and sets his supplies on the table. Despite the agitation rolling off him, Lochlan doesn’t flinch as Nolan starts.

Seeing him be mildly cooperative gives me enough confidence to take a step back, coaxing Jude and Rohan to the other side of the room. Lochlan doesn’t even seem to notice as Nolan keeps working on him.