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“As will I,” I reply. “Don’t go to Punky. For the moment, come to me with everything.”
Ron arches a brow but doesn’t argue. “If anyone can save us, it’s thon boy. He’s more like Connor than he thinks. Both are awful thran, but they’re loyal. They’ll do what’s right.”
“Yes. And that’s all Punky wants—to make things right. And to make those who betrayed him pay,” I add, while Ron grins.
“Good craic. We’ve been waitin’ for a miracle. Looks like our prayers have been answered. Thank you for comin’ to me, Cami. Y’ve given me hope.”
Tears prick my eyes and I don’t know why. It’s only when I shake Ron’s hand, flag down a taxi, and direct the driver to the closest hotel in town do I understand why.
Punky is hope.
He may not believe it, but we do. He doesn’t realize the impact he has on this world. His strength and loyalty give those who have lost their way a reason to smile again.
Once I check into the hotel, I collapse face-first onto the bed and smile. If I can help people like Ron while destroying my father and helping Punky, then I will make it my mission to ensure my plan doesn’t fail.
Punky believes he’s in this alone, but he’s not. He believes everyone has forgotten him, but someone like Punky isn’t easily forgotten.
My cell chimes and when I see it’s Brody, I decide to answer in case one of his henchmen saw me talking to Ron. “What?”
“Ya answered,” he says, his surprise clear.
“Yup, and I already regret it. What do you want?”
Brody chuckles that confident laugh which I hate so much. “I need to speak with ya.” Before I can protest, he adds, “It’s about Punky,” as he knows I will never say no to that request.
“Fine then. Speak.”
“Naw, what I have to say can’t be said over the phone. I’m at the pub. See you soon.” He hangs up, knowing he’s won this round.
With a groan, I punch the mattress, frustrated this asshole wields so much power over us. But with no other choice, I get up and organize a taxi to meet me downstairs.
As I lock the door, I decide to send a text in case this is a trap, and I’m willingly walking into my death.
Daddy dearest wants to see me atThe Craic’s 90. If you don’t hear from me, assume that I’m dead. I’ll check in later. Ps. Last night was a mistake.
Turning off my phone, I regret nothing.
