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“But deliver us from evil,” I finish for him, and when I see hope reflected in his eyes, hope that was taken away from Mum when he played a part in her death, I slash my knife in one fluid movement across his throat.
His warm blood coats my arms and shirt. I inhale deeply, a sense of calm overcoming me as he gurgles, choking on his own blood. He’s still alive when I make good on my promise and detach his head from his shoulders.
His body flops forward, landing with a squelch on the stage as I hold his severed head in my hand. Peering down at it, I smile. Nothing has looked more perfect.
There is the calm before the storm as the masses watch in disbelief, unsure if what they just witnessed actually occurred. But when I drop his head by his twitching torso, blood splattering the faces and clothes of people standing close by, the calm erupts into bedlam.
Screams pierce the night air as the rich and powerful realize that won’t save them this time. Their social standing means nothing to me.
“Let this be a warning to youse all…don’t fuck with me. If yer not with me, yer against me. And if ye know where Sean Kelly is…tell him it’s only a matter of time. Ats us nai.”
It’s a flurry of panic as the guests desperately try to leave. I nod at Ron Brady, and he steps aside to let them go. For now.
I take a moment to appreciate the mayhem and compare it to what I once saw—a black, white, and red imagery reflecting the death of my childhood.
Liam Doyle suddenly appears in the archway, frantically shoving people aside to get to me. His time is coming, but that time is not now.
“Babydoll, go!” I order over the hysterical screams. “I’ll find ya.”
She appears to be in shock, staring at the dismembered body of her father with wide eyes.
Ron is at her side, dragging her away toward the door behind the stage as she continues to stoically stare at Brody’s corpse. She doesn’t fight, which is unlike her.
“Ron, take her someplace safe.”
He nods firmly.
I will deal with the consequences later, no matter what they are, because when Liam is a few feet away, I calmly walk to where Brody’s head lays. I memorize the image before I spit on it. Liam’s incensed cries cut through the carnage as he comes charging for me, but he stops dead in his tracks when I kick his father’s severed head like a football.
On instinct, he catches it, which is what I knew he would do.
He peers down at the head cradled in his hands. A surreal moment, no doubt. His revenge will wait because now, he has to collect the pieces of his father.
A look of promise is exchanged between us. The next time we meet, only one of us will be left standing. With Brody’s blood coating my fingers, I strike two lines down the center of my forehead in honor of my ma.
Two down, one to go.
With that as my motivation, I quickly exit through the same door as Ron and gather my sense of direction. Following the signs, I find my way out back to where Rory has parked the car. He and Cian were here for backup, but I’m glad they weren’t needed because we’re about to fight a bigger war.
Opening the back door, I dive inside. “Drive.”
The car tears off down the road while I lay on the back seat, my heart racing uncontrollably. Now that I’m out of there, the brutality of what I did hits me, and when I look at my bloody hands, turning them over and over, a maniacal laugh spills from me.
I did it.
I have taken back a small piece of my soul.
“Where’s Cami?” Rory asks, looking at me in the rearview mirror.
“She’s with Ron Brady.”
“Cian, send him a text and ask where they’re headed, will ya?”
Cian does as Rory says.
Once he’s done, he turns over his shoulder to look at me. “What did ya do?”
He can guess, seeing as I’m covered in another man’s blood. But he wants to hear it from me.
