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Opening the wardrobe, I gently place him inside and give him the machine gun as he sags into a half-sitting position.
“Ya can fight from in here.”
He arms himself as best he can. “I’m sorry, Punky. I was careless.”
“Don’t be worryin’ about that,” I cut him off, shaking my head. “Just stay quiet.”
He nods, his face a brutal mess.
Closing the wardrobe door, I press my back against the wall, preparing for battle. I only need one of them alive. Two of them come bursting through the door, looking at the empty chairs, confused, which is when I strike.
I stab one in the thigh while I kick the other in the stomach, winding him. He staggers back, tumbling over one of the chairs. He doesn’t have a chance to get up because I drop to one knee and slam my fist into his face, once, twice, before he’s out cold.
The man howling in pain as he tries to pull out the knife just feeds this guttural anger, and I slowly turn toward him and laugh. I know this arsehole.
“Ya take that out, y’ll bleed to death in seconds,” I warn calmly as I’ve stabbed him in the femoral artery.
His bloody hands pause from removing my blade.
I come to stand, watching the way his face twists in recognition.
“You,” he snarls, while I wave my fingers.
“How’re ya doin’, Hugh?”
Hugh Doyle and I meet again, but this time, he will not leave with his life intact.
He shuffles backward to lean against the wall. “YerPuck Kelly then?”
I shrug with a smirk. “Maybe.”
“Maybe? What the fuck d’ye mean maybe?”
Grabbing a chair, I spin it around and straddle it as we have a lot to discuss. “Who told ye?”
Hugh chuckles, clutching at his thigh. “That stupid aul’ fella,” he mutters under his breath. “He trusted her when I told him not to.”
“Who?” I press, trying to piece this together.
“He thinks he’s got it sorted, that he’s got the advantage, but none of them can be trusted. For fuck’s sake! When I saw yer friend, I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t want to believe ye t’ree could fool us.”
“Listen to me. Yer goin’ to answer me, or I’ll make sure ya die awful slow.”
Hugh spits in response. “Yer gonna kill me, anyway.”
“Aye, that it is.”
Realizing he won’t rat on his family, I get up and walk over to him. He looks up at me with nothing but hatred. Gripping the collar of his shirt, I drag him along the floor and toss his arse into the chair. When he tries to fight me, I punch him in the jaw.
He’s still struggling as I use the discarded rope to tie his hands behind his back, but I eventually get him bound. The other guy who I don’t know is still out cold, so I pick him up and tie him to another chair.
“Ye killed mi uncle?” Hugh asks, looking at my face paint.
“Yes, I killed him, just how he killed my ma. In this house, actually.”
Rolling back the sleeve of my hoodie, I reveal my own tattoo, the one I bit off Hugh’s wrist. His eyes widen. “I saw it. I saw what they did to her, and I promised myself that I would kill every last Doyle to avenge her death.”
“Yer ma was stupid. That much is clear. She married a Kelly, for fuck’s sake.”
