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I turn down the road, and when I see Sean’s house, a sense of foreboding overcomes me. It’s too…quiet.
I park the truck by the curb and reach into the console for my knife and gun. I don’t plan on using them as I intend to get my hands dirty. But just in case.
I slowly walk up the drive, carefully scanning my surroundings. The hair at the back of my neck stands on end, but it’s too late.
“Hands in the air! Yer trespassin’.”
I’m blinded by a bright torch, but I know who this is.
“Good evenin’, Constable,” I quip, leisurely raising my hands in surrender. “Just out for a stroll, is it?”
“Quit runnin’ yer smart mouth,” he snarls, grabbing my wrist with force and snapping a cuff onto it. He then proceeds to handcuff me.
Sean has called in the reinforcements. He must be scared as he knows I know…I know everything. It also means he’s gone on the run.
Constable Shane Moore is here to slow me down.
However, when he flashes the torch toward my hands, I know he’s going to do a lot more than slow me down.
“Is that blood? Ach, y’ve just made my job so much easier.”
I don’t have a chance to reply because he’s shoving me in the back toward the concealed police car parked in the back garden.
“Yer just as shifty as yer dad,” I spit, struggling against him as he forces me forward. “He made a career out of me. He knew I wasn’t guilty, but that didn’t stop him from throwin’ me in prison while he reaped the benefits.”
Shane has had enough of my cheek and uses his baton to wind me as he drives it into my stomach. I drop to my knees, hands cuffed behind me as I wheeze out an amused laugh.
“Is that the best y’ve got?”
Shane snarls and begins to beat me with his baton. I fend him off as best I can with my hands cuffed behind me, but it’s not long before he’s beating me senseless. I don’t feel pain anymore. It’s like my brain and body have shut off from it.
There is no way he’s dragging me down to the police station because it doesn’t end this way—Sean once again eluding me. But when I hear a piercing boom, I know that won’t happen again.
This is something that’s changed. Sean can run, but he can’t hide. I have the whole of Northern Ireland looking for him.
Shane realizes he’s under attack, and like the coward that he is, takes cover behind his car. I roll onto my stomach, catching sight of who’s saved me.
“Getawaytafuck.” There is no way.
But as Cian and Ethan come running toward me, guns raised, it seems the impossible has happened.
Cian drops to his knees, attempting to help me, but when he sees I’m cuffed, he snarls angrily. “He beat ya when yer cuffed? Fucking dog.”
Ethan is covering us, shooting at Shane as he ducks out from behind the car, letting off a few rounds. Cian is livid. I don’t remember seeing him this worked up. With his gun raised, he walks toward Shane, not bothered that he could be shot dead.
“Cian!” I scream, rolling onto my side so I can stand. “Stop!”
But he doesn’t.
He charges toward Shane, and when the night sky erupts into gunfire, my heart threatens to claw its way from my ribcage.
With hands still bound behind me, I run toward Cian, and as Shane stands, gun poised, ready to kill my best friend, I shoulder Cian to the ground, covering him with my body. Pops echo in the distance, hinting Ethan has our backs.
But there is no way this fucker, Shane, is going to get out of this unscathed.
Cian fights me, angered I would stop him. But his vengeance will blind him and result in his death.
“Cian, enough! I won’t lose you too.”
