Page 113 of Inflict

His soul.

Connor grabbed a handgun, and checked the clip. “My sanity.”

• • •

“Why the feck is there a goddamn traffic light in the middle of nowhere?” Connor asked.

Killian laughed from his position in the passenger seat. “You need to get out of the States more, mate.”

“Because that will explain this feckin’ shite?” Connor waved at the traffic light next to a wee, one-lane bridge that was doing literally nothing, since there was no traffic. “What’s it red for?”

“The animals go back and forth. Cattle and goats, you know. Relax.”

“Look at that stupid light, Killian! There’s no feckin’ goats or cattle I know that understand red means stop and green means go!”

“Re—”

Connor punched his companion at the same time the light turned green and he gunned the car across the damn bridge. He was so close to the cottage—house—that his nerves felt frayed and his skin was feckin’ numb. It was a strange sensation, to be alive on the inside, yet so dead on the outside.

“Aye, you’re a prick,” Killian mumbled, rubbing at his arm. “You sound like a proper Irishman bitching about the roads.”

“Feck off somewhere and die.”

So maybe he was in a mood, too.

Wasn’t he allowed to be, considering everything?

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, tonight.”

Connor scowled. “How far are we now?”

“It’s an hour and half out. We’re not far, now. Might want to cut the lights, and we’ll sneak up on the property. It’s dark enough for that.”

The anxiety simmering through his nervous system only increased as he closed in on the place where his father was, but more importantly, where Evelyn was, too.

Killian, on the other hand, barely batted an eye. “It’s going to be fine, Connor.”

“It will be, yes, when she’s back with me.”

“Relax.”

“You keep saying that like it’s supposed to help.”

“Nah, I’m just talking to hear myself speak, you bastard. Seriously, relax. You can’t go in there blazing and raging like a foolish arse, and you know it. That will only cause a problem that you might not be able to fix. So—”

Connor swallowed his nerves instantly. “Relax.”

“Exactly, mate.”

He was trying.

It was the best he could do.

• • •

By the time Connor and Killian had crossed the overgrown field, his slacks were soaked, his body was cold, there wasn’t a bit of feckin’ light in the sky, but he couldn’t manage to feel a thing or care a bit about it. All that mattered in that moment was the fact he could see a cottage.

A rundown, moss-covered house with puffs of smoke coming from a crumbling chimney. Several windows covered the cottage, but most looked to be dark and covered. It was only one toward the back of the place that had some kind of light filtering through the curtains. The white siding on the place had more dirt and moss on it that it had turned a brown over the years, though some white peeked through. The black sedan was parked on the side, nearly hidden from view entirely from the road that was quite a ways away.