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‘Sixteen years, I could have had my son.’
‘WHAT DID YOU DO?’ John roared, his face bright red, his knuckles white as he tried to twist them away from the chair.
‘How long were you fucking my wife?’ Dornan asked. It suddenly occurred to him that it was the last time he’d likely refer to Mariana as his wife.
‘If you hurt Julie–’
Dornan tutted. ‘I already hurt Julie. Jesus, John, didn’t you hear her screaming? That was your daughter and my sons, but she was the only one who screamed.’
John made a guttural noise in the back of his throat, pulling against the ropes that bound him to the chair. He was going to either make himself bleed or snap the rope soon enough.
Dornan drew his gun and pressed it against John’s lips, against his teeth. ‘We’re talking about my wife first, John. She suck your cock, John? Did my wife suck good cock?’
John’s eyes flashed with anger. Dornan drew the gun away and used it to pistol-whip him across the face. Blood flew from John’s mouth and through the air, landing on the ground with a sickening splat.
‘What else, huh? You steal my wife, you steal my money, you steal my FUCKING SON?’
‘Why is there blood on her clothes?’ John panted. ‘Why are her clothes cut up?’
Dornan grabbed a second chair and planted it right in front of John’s, straddling it. He rested his elbows on the top of the backrest, watching John as an eerie calm descended upon him. Little by little, the angry buzz was starting to recede. This is what it feels like, he realised. To switch it all off and walk away from ever caring about anything else again. This is what it feels like to be my father.
It felt . . . oddly freeing. No more worry. No more pain. Just the self-assured conviction that the man in front of him – the man he’d trusted with his own life, his own wife, his own fucking kids – that this man would suffer for his betrayal.
John levelled his gaze at Dornan. ‘Why are her clothes cut up?’ he repeated. ‘ANSWER ME!’
Dornan responded by taking his gun, pressing it down into John’s groin, and pulling the trigger. The blast was deafening; John’s howl of pain even more so. His pain rocked him to the side and he crashed to the ground, still tied to the chair at an awkward angle. Dornan could only imagine the pain John must have been feeling. A bullet in the cock. There were major arteries down there. The steady stream of blood pouring from John’s lap made sense then. His skin went pasty-white and he started to hyperventilate, gasping for air.
‘Now bring her in,’ Dornan said to Jimmy, who obliged, scuttling away and coming back not thirty seconds later with Mariana in tow.
‘Oh God,’ she cried, running towards John.
Dornan stopped her, a hand around her throat as he drove her against the wall. ‘Nuh-uh,’ he said, grinning at her. ‘No touching.’ He pressed his hips against Mariana, effectively pinning her to the wall. ‘Jimmy!’ he barked. ‘Get out your gun. Take all the bullets out. Leave one in the chamber and give it to Jason.’
Everyone looked at Dornan as if he were mad. ‘What if the little fuck shoots you?’ Jimmy asked. ‘Or me?’
Dornan glared at him. ‘He won’t shoot you. Just fucking do it.’
With great reluctance, Jimmy handed the gun to Jason. He immediately pointed it at Dornan.
‘If you want to redeem yourself,’ he said to his youngest son, ‘you’ll put John here out of his misery. He’s in pain. You don’t want him to be in pain, do you, son?’
Dornan motioned for everyone to leave the room. Soon it was just Jase and John, Dornan and Mariana. She was saying John’s name, over and over. Dornan didn’t like that. ‘Stop, bitch,’ he ground out. She didn’t stop.
‘I said STOP, BITCH!’ He pulled her head forward and then slammed it back into the wall, watching in fascination as her eyes rolled back in her head. He dragged her out of the room and closed the door, and waited for the gunshot. Either Jason would kill John to ease his pain, or he’d turn the gun on himself and blow his brains out. There really was no telling which way it would go. But one thing he did know, he couldn’t stay and watch.
In the hallway, Mariana continued to struggle, and Dornan continued to brace her against the wall. She was fading fast; pretty soon she’d be still. Jimmy and Viper leaned against the opposite wall and said nothing. Dornan wondered where Guillermo was. Whose side he was on. He made a mental note to find out. But first, he had to wait for that blast.
What he didn’t expect was that Chad would wander up the hallway, looking almost rueful, his hands covered in blood.
‘Pop,’ Chad said, holding out his blood-soaked hands. ‘Whatever you did to Julz – I can’t wake her. I think she’s dying.’
Mariana found a second wind and started struggling again. ‘What did you do?’ she wailed. ‘Oh God. Oh God. What did you do to her?’
Dornan opened his mouth to speak as a deafening gunshot rang out. He felt his breath hitch for a moment as he wondered who was dead in the office just a few feet away – his best friend, or his son.
‘Hold her,’ Dornan snapped, throwing Mariana at Viper. He opened the office door, and saw his son on the floor, the gun to his temple, desperately pulling the trigger over and over again to a series of empty clicks.
Dornan watched him do this for a few moments, unable to look down at John. And then he forced himself to look.
