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An inhumane roar cut through the air, just as Tristan’s body collided with mine, throwing us both down on the floor. He was stronger, faster than me—especially now—but I was angrier. So fucking angry, so fucking done with all these little games, and all these men behaving like little boys, incapable of admitting their wrongdoings.
My head hit the ground with a thud, pain ricocheted through my skull, darkness seeping from every corner of the room, but I wouldn’t fall now. I wouldn’t let this big manbaby win.
My knee connected with Tristan’s crotch, earning a painful howl from him, and before he could recover, I flipped us and straddled him. “How does it feel losing, Tristan?”
“Fuck you!” He tried pushing me off of him, but I was faster, in control right now, and before he could make another move, the knife disappeared into his stomach, right underneath his sternum. “You fucking bitch!”
“Evelyn!” someone shouted from the opposite end of the warehouse, but I was too far gone to listen to that voice. I had only one goal in my head—to stop Tristan Nightingale.
“You almost destroyed your brother,” I spat out, pulling the knife from his stomach and pressing it to his throat. Tristan whimpered, the blade pressing to his skin. “And for what? For the person that fucked you all over?”
“Evelyn! No!”
“Go on.” Tristan chuckled. “Kill me. Get done with it.” Footsteps were fast approaching, echoing around the warehouse. It took me a moment to realize what he was doing.
Tristan wanted to die, but he was too much of a coward to do it himself. To stop his own insanity.
“Do it!” he bellowed.
“No.” I smirked. “You’re gonna have to live with what you’ve done. With everything you destroyed. You’re gonna have to live in the shambles of a life you used to have, Tristan. I’m not going to be the person that’s gonna give you an out.”
“Just fucking kill me!” he thundered as tears cascaded down his cheeks, his pain almost a palpable thing. He wanted to disappear into the void, to leave behind the pain he'd created, but that’s not how life worked.
Running away was never a solution, and this man, this fucking child that didn’t know how to get over himself, almost destroyed the man I loved.
I pressed my chest to his and with my lips to his ear, I whispered, “You don’t get to die today, Tristan. You don’t get to run.” I lifted my head just in time to see Cillian and Christian rushing toward us, panic written on both of their faces. “You get to face your brother and your demons, baby boy. And living in hell on earth is worse than dying. Trust me,” I pulled back and looked down at him, “I know.”
19
CILLIAN
I watchedthat movie Carrie a couple of years ago, and the thing I always remembered the most was the way she was covered in pig blood throughout the second half of the movie. And that cold, calculating gaze on the face of the actress that chilled me to the bone.
Evelyn—she looked exactly the same.
It didn’t take us long to find Tristan’s hiding place, but even those couple of hours while we were looking for them, and even more while we were driving here, felt like an eternity, because neither I nor Christian knew what we would find. And what we found right now was not what I expected to see.
Evelyn sat on top of Tristan—Tristan who was sobbing on the ground, bleeding from his stomach, begging her to kill him, to stop it all, to take away his life, while my girl—ourgirl—sat on top of him like an Angel of darkness, waiting patiently for us to come closer to them.
Her left eye was completely swollen shut, her face covered in blood, her clothes torn, dirty, but that wicked smile on her face eased some of the worry I was plagued with. Christian wasted no time, and within a few seconds, he had her scooped up and in his arms, clinging to her with the ferocity of a man in love.
And I guess we both were in love with her. Enamored with her strength, her softness, the fact that she went through hell and still managed to keep her head afloat, still kept her wits, no matter what life threw at her. My brother whimpered on the ground, still in the same place where Evelyn had him before, keeping his eyes closed.
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, shaking. “I’m so sorry.”
I didn’t have it in me anymore to care for him. I didn’t have it in me to believe him, because this person on this floor, this sobbing mess wasn’t the brother I used to know. I had no idea what Ava did to him, but he chose her over Kieran and me, and that stung more than anything else. And after, instead of staying with us, trying to fix what he'd done, trying to find redemption, to apologize, he decided to screw us over multiple times over the last couple of years, dead set on destroying what was left of our family.
“Just kill me,” he pleaded, his eyes suddenly opening, looking straight at me. “I know you want to. You want to kill me for everything I did.”
“I do.” I nodded, deciding that he deserved the truth from me, more than the lies. “But I’m not going to do it.”
“No. Please, Cillian. Please, just—”
“Evelyn is right, Tristan.” I crouched down right next to his head. “Death would be too kind for you, and I’m not feeling very kind right now.”
“I’m sorry!” he screamed, his voice tearing through the warehouse. “I just… I don’t know what happened.”
“You betrayed us,” I spat out. “You are smart, Tristan, which is why I don’t understand how you could fall under Ava’s spell.”
