I barely slept last night as I tried to recall every time Aoife and I had sex. I counted eight, maybe nine times. Some memories are fuzzier than others because when I was sent to the sickbay, it was because I was either concussed or bleeding on the cusp of passing out.

  I never wanted any painkillers, but sometimes, I needed them to help shut out the pain. They’ve always messed with my head which is why I hate taking them. I now wonder if maybe one of those times when I was fucked up, I did something stupid—like getting Aoife pregnant.

  “I’m not judgin’, but how did ye get away with it?” Cian asks, sipping his coffee.

  I, on the other hand, am on my third whiskey.

  “Riverbend House wasn’t yer average prison, Cian. There were no rules. But there’s no way that could be my chile.”

  Cian doesn’t look so convinced. “If ya rode her, and rode her numerous times, then it’s very possible. It doesn’t matter how careful ya thought ye were. Accidents happen.”

  He’s right.

  “I just don’t understand why Sean was givin’ her money?”

  “Could he be the dad?” Cian asks, half-serious, but we soon both realize that isn’t so far-fetched. “Getawaytafuck.”

  “Anythin’ is possible,” I state, throwing back my drink. “Until I speak with Aoife, then we’re merely guessin’.”

  This would be the time I’d call on Rory to work his computer magic. But I’m on my own on this one.

  “No one who knows me, no one associated with me can approach her. I need a total stranger to pass a message on to her. I don’t want to send a letter or leave a note. It’s too risky.”

  “Ach, yer right. But who?”

  “Someone who knew her from work will look less suspicious, but I don’t—” I never finish that sentence because I think I’ve figured out who.

  Reaching for my phone off the bench, I do a quick search online for Officer Scott Grenham. He doesn’t owe me a thing, but I need to try. He was the only officer who actually gave a fuck.

  “Hello?” he answers on the third ring.

  “Hi, um, I don’t know if ye remember me, but it’s Puck, Puck Kelly.”

  “Puck Kelly,” he says in surprise. “What’s the craic?”

  “I’m sorry to phone ya out of the blue, but I was wonderin’ if I could ask for a favor?”

  “That depends on what it is,” he replies lightly.

  “Remember Nurse Aoife?”

  “Aye, I remember.”

  “Well, she and you were the only people who gave a fuck about me when I was locked up. Youse were the only ones who treated me like a human being. I wanted to reach out to her, but I didn’t want it to be…weird. Do ya think ya could pass a message on from me?”

  “Of course, Puck. I can do that.” He almost sounds relieved.

  “Could ya tell her to meet me tomorrow? For a coffee?”

  “No bother. Just tell me the time and address, and I’ll pass on the message.”

  I can hear him writing down the details as I recite the address. “I know this is silly, but do ya think ya could give this message to her in person?”

  Cian nods, understanding why I’ve asked this.

  The safest way to deliver a message is face to face. I can’t assume Sean doesn’t have access to her phone. I’ve learned that everything is possible when Sean Kelly is involved.

  “Aoife doesn’t live far from me. I can do that.” He doesn’t ask questions as he knows it’s best this way.

  I hang up, hopeful this will work.

  Throwing back the rest of my whiskey, I decide to call another person—Ron Brady.

  He wasn’t at the meeting with Sean, but the fact he’s called me numerous times means he still believes I can pull off what we agreed on before shit hit the fan.

  “Punky?” he answers, his surprise evident.

  “Hi, Ron. Thanks for answerin’.”

  “I thought we’d lost ye, lad,” he says. “Can ya meet at Bull and Crow in an hour?”

  I’d forgotten about the conversation I had with Ollie Molony, the pub owner. He made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the Doyles as they were exploiting him and many others. With Brody now gone and Sean back, I wonder if his stance is the same as Ron’s.

  “Aye. I’ll be there.”

  With that organized, I decide to call a taxi, seeing as I don’t have a truck anymore. But Cian shakes his head.

  “I’m comin’ with ya.”

  “Naw, Cian, y’ve done more than enough.” I don’t expect him to fight with me.

  “I just want this done,” he reveals, tossing me his car keys. “None of us are safe until this is sorted. Once and for all.”

  He’s right.

  I don’t know how this will end, but I’ve got to try.

  I nod, grabbing my gun and placing it in the small of my back. “I wish I could promise ye we’re gonna win this, but I don’t know that.”

  “Then we’ll die tryin’,” Cian says. “This is it this time. This is our last chance.”

  “Aye, so it is.”

  With nothing left to say, Cian and I leave my gaff and make our way to Bull and Crow.

  Sean hasn’t summoned me—yet. So I want to make this quick. If anyone sees us, the cover of having a pint will be believable.

  I park the car, unbelieving how quiet things are. This place used to thrive, but thanks to the closed down shopfronts which are bricked up, it’s a shell of what it used to be. Cian and I enter the pub, and when we make eye contact with Ollie and Ron, Ollie gestures we’re to take a seat in a booth.

  There are ten patrons, drinking and playing pool, harmless enough. But I treat everyone as the enemy.

  Ollie places four pints on the table and takes a seat near Cian. We reach for our glasses casually.

  Ollie leans in close. “I’m happy to see ye, Puck. I heard what happened. What can we do to help?”

  Ron takes a seat near me, examining our surroundings before speaking softly. “He has Camilla, does he not?”

  Ron isn’t stupid. He knows the only reason I would side with Sean is because he has something I want more than life itself.

  “Aye,” I reply, sipping my pint. “I don’t know where she is. Until I find her, I’m forced to do Sean’s biddin’.”

  “That bleedin’ arsehole,” Ron mumbles under his breath. “I knew it. I knew ya wouldn’t do this without reason. Have ye any idea where she is?”

  “None,” I reply, gripping the glass. “I don’t even know if she’s alive. I want to believe she is, but I can’t assume anythin’ when Sean is involved.”

  “Fuck,” Ollie says, leaning back in his seat. “How’d he get to her?”

  Cian’s jaw clenches as he turns to look away.

  “Rory,” I reply with regret. “He sold us out.”

  All men are silenced by my admission.

  “What can we do?” Ron asks once he gets over the shock of Rory betraying us all.

  “We can’t let Sean know anythin’ is wrong. Cami’s life is at stake.”

  “Yer just expected to do his dirty work then, until he decides to tell ya where she is?”

  I shrug because acting with violence is what got me here.

  But as Ron peers around once again, I realize he may have the answers I need. “I might have an idea.”

  We wait for him to continue.

  “Austin Bailey is a friend of mine. He used to be a little fish, but his dealings with a Russian drug lord have made him a feared enemy ya do not want to have.

  “I believe he will want to help us.”

  “Why would a complete stranger want to help?” I ask, arching a brow.

  “’Cause his boss doesn’t take too kindly to men like Sean imprisoning women.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  There is always a catch.

  Ron leans forward, eyeing us all sternly. “He’ll want a cut. He’ll help ya take out Sean, but at a price, of course.”

  “What’s his boss’s name?” I want to know who I’m dealing with before I sign my life away.

  “Aleksei Popov, one of the most powerful men in all of Europe.”

  Never heard of him.

  “I’ll tell ya what,” I state, running my finger around the rim of the glass, suddenly struck with an epiphany. “If he finds Cami, he can have the whole fucking thing. I am done with this life. I want no part of it anymore.”

  And I mean it. I want out.

  Ron and Ollie are surprised by my admission, but they understand how this life has done nothing but take from me.

  “I’ll make some calls,” Ron says. “In the meantime, yer to go on like normal. We will beat this cunt. I promise ya that.”

  We’ve learned from our mistakes, but I won’t get my hopes up. Sean has his claws so deeply imbedded into this place, I have lost trust in everyone. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try anything at least once.

  We’ve stayed here long enough, so Cian and I finish our drinks and shake Ollie’s and Ron’s hands. This is the first plan we’ve hatched. I can’t help but feel apprehensive.

  “Do ye know who this Aleksei mawn is?” Cian asks as we walk to the car.

  I shake my head. “No, I do not. But if Ron thinks he can be trusted, that’s good enough for me.”

  “And yer okay with givin’ everythin’ to him? Everythin’ our fathers worked so hard for?”

  “This life is what killed our dads, Cian,” I bitterly spit. “He’d be doin’ me a favor.”

  And I mean it.

  As we get into the car and I drive away, I sense Cian’s silence is filled with anything but.

  “Spit it out, will ye?”

  He turns to look at me, a heavy sigh leaving him. “I just want this over with,” he confesses. “But on the other hand, I’m angry it’s come to this. This was supposed to be our legacy, but now, I can’t help but feel like I’ve let my dad down.

  “There doesn’t seem to be an outcome where we win.”

  “There are no winners,” I state, clenching the steering wheel. “Merely survivors.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Not everyone will survive this, though. Sean has asked I kill Liam. That was a given. But not after some party he’s throwin’.”

  “Don’t these buck eejits ever learn?”

  “Doesn’t seem like it. Sean wants any competition eliminated so the men have no other choice but to serve him.”

  “And what happens when you’re the only competition left?”

  “I can only hope I beat him before it comes to that,” I reply, but my response lacks confidence.

  “Whatever happens, I’m with ye.”

  Normally I would argue, but the truth is, I need him. I need all the allies I can get.

  We ride the rest of the way in silence, and when I drop Cian home, I see the front curtain part. It’s Amber.

  She closes it a second later, clearly not interested in seeing her boyfriend being dragged into my shite once again.

  Cian has lent me his car, but I plan on buying one as soon as I can because I can’t keep imposing on him. I know he doesn’t mind, but I do.

  I drive away and am surprised I haven’t heard from Sean. He would have usually called on me by now. The radio silence worries me because I am certain he is up to no good.

  When I pull into the driveway and see he isn’t waiting for me, I don’t know whether to be worried or relieved. This paranoia is expected because of what I’ve done, but I can’t let it get to me. I need my head in the game.

  Parking the car, I decide to work on the castle as I wait for Sean to call, which I’m sure will be soon.

  The castle is a work in progress with scaffolding holding the structure in place. Getting her back to what she once was has taken a back seat, but with Sean as the new owner, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knocks it down.

  So many ghosts haunt this place. I think he’ll want a fresh start once he finally gets his throne.

  Unlocking the front door, which has been replaced, I step inside, and like always, I’m hit with bittersweet memories. When she thrived, this castle was unmatched. Now, she barely stands. I can’t help but draw the comparisons between it and me.

  The construction crew has done a great job, but seeing as I’m no longer the owner, as I signed my life over to Sean, she sits waiting. We all do.

  Peering upward, I see most of the ceiling has been replaced, but the inside is still gutted. Only a few walls remain. My mum and Connor would be disgusted to see the state of her, as they took pride in their home. So much has changed.

  Lost in the past is a dangerous place to be because it’s the present that has caused me the most harm, and now is no exception. I turn, but it’s too late. This trip down memory lane has cost me when my world is shrouded in darkness; thanks to the pillowcase shoved over my head.

  I kick out blindly, but it’s in vain when someone sucker punches me straight in the guts.

  Winded, I take a step back, only to be punched in the kidneys. And then the back.

  Falling to my knees, I scramble to take off the pillowcase, but someone grips my arm and twists it back behind me, threatening to break it.

  But I don’t go out like this.

  I stop struggling and study the sounds around me, and when I hear an intake of breath to the left, I strike out with my free hand and connect with something soft. The wheeze alerts me that the man will be singing soprano for a few minutes.

  I ignore the pain in my arm, which is about to be broken, and twist, elbowing my attacker in the shin. He releases me, and just as I’m about to rip off the pillowcase, a pain in my thigh has me gasping for air.

  “Stop fightin’, or I swear to God, the next thing I stab will be your fucking throat.”

  I recognize that voice, and honestly, I’m surprised it’s taken him this long.

  “Hello, Cormac.”

  I knew Rory’s father would find out the truth one day, and it seems that day is today.

  Raising my hands in surrender, I don’t remove the knife Cormac stabbed into my thigh. I’ll allow him to avenge his son because we all want revenge on those who’ve wronged us. We deserve it.

  “Yer joking me,” he snarls, and I can imagine him shaking his head. “Y’ll pretend everythin’ is all right after what ye did?”

  “Nothing’s been all right in a long time. What’s right about Rory betrayin’ us? Him using Cami like she meant nothin’ to him.”

  “Shut yer lyin’ mouth!” he snarls, ripping the pillowcase from my head.

  Gathering my bearings, I see Cormac has two men I don’t recognize as reinforcements. They are out for blood.

  “It’s true,” I state, never breaking eye contact with Cormac. “He got what he deserved.”

  I won’t disrespect Cormac by lying to him. I owe him more than that.

  He paces back and forth, clearly trying to wrap his head around this. I don’t know who told him, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is what he plans on doing with the truth.

  “Yer da would be disgusted with what we’ve become,” he says, deep in thought. “When he died, he took a piece of us with him. Nothing’s been the same since he’s been gone.”

  “Aye, yer right. He was a bastard, but things were a lot simpler with him here.”

  “And it’s ’cause of yer dad that I’m not going to kill ye…but I am goin’ to hurt ye…awful bad.”

  Nodding, I remain on my knees. There’s no point fighting—he won’t stop until he gets his revenge.

  “He didn’t deserve to die that way,” he cries, reaching into his back pocket for a flick knife. “He was yer best friend!”

  “The man I killed was not the boy I knew ’cause the Rory I knew would never sell me out. He would never betray me the way he did.”

  Cormac inhales sharply, peering upward as if needing a moment to compose himself.

  “Hold him up,” he orders his two men as he rolls up the sleeves of his white shirt.

  The men do as they’re told and grip my arms—one on either side of me. My arms are out wide, akin to a crucifixion. I don’t struggle. I dare Cormac to do his best because this is his only chance to get his revenge.

  I won’t be so complacent next time.

  Cormac peers at me, no longer seeing the boy he knew but the man who killed his son. With a roar, he punches me in the jaw. My head snaps back with a sharp crack.

  Cormac doesn’t allow me to recover from his brutal blows. He punches me over and over again. Each hit is more frenzied than the one before it. His men ensure I stay upright, holding me tight.

  “Ye were like a brother to him!” he screams, punching me in the stomach, then the ribs. “And ya fucking killed him because of a whore!”

  Spitting out a mouthful of blood, I glare at him through one eye as the other has closed over. “I killed him because he was a fucking pussy. And call her a whore again; I dare ya.”

  Cormac launches forward, clenching my hair and arching my head backward. “Don’t you dare say that ’bout my son!”

  He presses the tip of the blade to my throat.

  “Go on then,” I dare with a smirk. “Do it.”

  “What’s become of us?” he cries, shaking his head. “I treated ye like my own wain.”

  “We’re not those people anymore, Cormac.”

  “Aye, yer right. Say yer sorry, and I’ll let ye go.”

  “I’m not sorry,” I counter, bracing for the repercussions of my confession. “He made his choice. I made mine. I won’t insult either of ye by sayin’ sorry ’cause given the chance, I would kill that fucker again.”

  He lets go of the past as he presses the blade to my face. He starts above my eye and then cuts downward, leaving a deep gash in its wake. Hot, sticky blood seeps from the wound, coating my face, but I don’t cower. I don’t scream.

  Cormac’s cries are guttural as he knows no matter how much blood he spills, it’ll never fill the void. The knife drops to the ground with a hollow thud once he’s sliced open the left side of my face. The men let me go, where I flop forward, gasping for air.

  “I hope she suffers the same fate as my son. I curse ya both.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Those are my last words before he kicks me under the chin, knocking me out cold.

  I fight with every ounce of strength I have to open my eyes because someone is here; wherever here is.