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II
Screw Me
Chapter Sixteen
Finn
I thoughtI’d known rage.
Truly, I did.
I’d been abused by my father, and had known my mother was aware of it.
I’d run from home.
I’d killed.
I’d sought a fortune and I’d made it.
But catching my new bride on the church steps as a bullet tore through her body showed me that the rage I’d experienced in my life, was nothing compared tothis.
It surged inside me like a tidal wave. Forging more fury as it destroyed the limits of my control.
On the streets, you learned to live fast. It was either that or die young. I’d never intended on dying young, and my bride, who was twelve years younger than me, wouldn’t either.
Not if I had a say in it.
There was a shocking scarlet stain on her white wedding suit, and suddenly, I regretted her not wearing the white meringue dress, having all the bridesmaids and the big wedding party. She’d deserved that. Not this small affair.
She deserved the fucking world.
My throat clenched and I refused to believe the world wasn’t still hers for the taking. I’d give her that and more if she just. Fucking. Lived.
A part of me wanted to breakdown. To cry. But I couldn’t.
My instincts were too strong. I wasn’t like my brother, Eoghan. I wasn’t a sniper, but he’d helped train us. Had helped forge our skills so that the O'Donnelly sons and myself weren’t dumbshits when it came time to hold a weapon.
Clutching Aoife with one arm, I pulled the gun from the holster on my other shoulder. It seemed like fate that I didn’t even have to shuffle her in my hold to grab the gun. It slid seamlessly into my dry palm as I quickly took in the scene around me.
At my back, there was chaos.
I could hear moans of pain and low curses, as well as someone on the line with the emergency services.
But I blocked it out.
Blocked everything out as my gaze switched to hyper focus on the scene ahead.
The gunmen hanging out of the van were barely twenty, and had they been older, they’d have fucking figured out that drive-bys were supposed to be fast. In and out before anyone could lay chase.
Either they were slow, wanting to watch some of the pandemonium they had stirred, or the world had slowed downfor meso everything took incrementally more time than usual.
I saw the door to the truck the Colombians were using was still open as it drove past. I saw the grinning clown faces, loaded with those ugly fucking tats as they celebrated their ‘win,’ but more than that, I saw a target.
As Eoghan had taught me, I took aim. I held my breath to steady my heartbeat, then I released it on a slow exhalation as I squeezed the trigger.
It seemed to take forever for the bullet to find its way home. Proof of how time had slowed down for me. I watched its trajectory. My focus pure, like I could will it to hit the exact spot I required.
Was I surprised when the back of the driver’s head exploded?
