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“Way with ye. I won’t be far behind.”
Rory doesn’t argue as he knows we’re running out of time and pushes past me.
As I re-enter the bedroom, the man begs for mercy, but where was Cian’s mercy when he almost killed him? Dousing both him and Hugh with the scotch, I light a match and flick it without feeling. They instantly set alight, their screams doing nothing to appease the demons within.
They need more.
Looking around the bedroom, I realize this house is where it all started. I fixate on the carpet, the spot which was once stained with my ma’s blood, where I laid beside her stiff corpse. The carpet may be new, but the memories associated with this house are not. They deserve to be burned along with these two fuckers.
“Goodbye, Ma,” I say, using the rest of the scotch to douse the carpet, the curtains, and lastly, the wardrobe.
Taking one last look at the place which has been my prison for years, I smile as I light a match and toss it onto the alcohol. It ignites instantly. The room cackles a red hue, complementing the screams of the two men who are burning to death.
I wish I could watch them take their last breath, stand around the human boney, but this will have to do.
As I’m running down the hallway, a picture on the wall catches my eye. I missed it before. It’s of my ma. This is the only thing worth saving.
Yanking it off the hook, I stuff it into my backpack and gather all the bottles of liquor I can find. Tossing them down the corridor, I light the box of matches and throw it onto the trail of alcohol. It instantly goes up in a fireball, engulfing the gaff.
Running out the back door, I jump the fence and sprint to where Rory has parked the car. When he sees me, he speeds down the road and opens the passenger door. I dive in, and he rakes away from the mess I’ve made.
Keegan looks over his shoulder at the gaff going up in flames. He doesn’t say anything however as he knew it would always end this way.
It’s after two a.m. when I get home.
Cian insisted he was fine and didn’t need to go to the hospital. I sent Amber a text, asking if she could check on him however. She’s got her first-aid credentials and is pretty good with this stuff as the twins are always getting into trouble.
Rory is staying over to watch him, so I think he’ll be fine. But what he said in the car, I don’t know what to think. Aye, he’s delirious after taking a beating, but he seemed quare lucid when he said that someone had told the Doyles about me.
They knew I had a nose ring—as does Cian—which is why they mistook him for me. He also said they knew a lot about me. But they never told him how they knew. The man I burned alive had said it was Erin, but how would she know this?
Someone must be relaying information back to her. But who?
The moment I unlock my door, I know someone is inside. Flicking on the light, I see Babydoll curled up on the couch, asleep. I don’t know why she’s here, especially since she’s been ignoring me for days.
I’m about to shower and wash the paint from my face, but she stirs. “Punky?”
“Aye.”
She sits up and rubs the sleep from her eyes. “Your face.”
I’m still coming to terms with her American accent. Not because I don’t like it, but rather, that I still don’t know who she is.
She jumps up and makes her way over to me. I stand tall, allowing her to gently turn my cheeks so she can take a closer look at my face.
“What happened?”
“What happened was my best friend was beaten within an inch of his life. If he hadn’t called me, I don’t know what would have happened.”
I don’t know why I’m telling her this. But she has this effect on me. I just can’t say no to her.
“Why is your face painted like this?”
She understands the significance of it. She knows something serious went down.
“Because someone thought he was me.”
She casts her eyes downward, obviously disgusted with what that means.
