Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“No! Kieren! Please, please, let me go, let me go, let me—“
Cormac’s grip is iron. He smells like salt and skin as I’m thrown to the grass behind one of the cars. He pins me there with a massive hand, holding me down as I thrash, the constant crack of death playing out but slowing now, easing to a sporadic chirp, ending in a hush. There aren’t any moans of pain. There aren’t any signs of life.
“That was stupid,” Cormac comments, letting me go. He stands to his full height and squints over the car’s hood. “Good work though.”
“Kieren.” I get to my feet. Tears pour down my face as I walk woodenly back toward the slaughter. The bodies look too human, and that’s the problem: bullets took them in chests, in heads, making a bloody mess but leaving them strangely intact. Brothers, husbands, fathers. All of them dead, the whole Baranov contingent, slaughtered by Cormac’s personal guard.
I find him lying on top of her. He took two bullets through the back, straight into his heart and lungs. He’s curled up against her, face to her neck like he’s trying to kiss her and whisper something nice in her ear. Her mouth is locked open in pure shock, her eyes empty and cold, one hand gripping her gun, the other laced in Kieren’s hair.
I kneel beside them, a sob ripping from my throat. I know Cormac and his men are watching, but I don’t care. I cry hard at the fucked up injustice of it all, at the obscenity of watching Kieren perform one final brave act, one desperate and doomed attempt to save the woman he clearly loved, only to fail, only for it to happen for someone other than me.
But that’s good, isn’t it? He did get to love, and I’m happy it wasn’t me in the end. I’m happy I wasn’t trapped with him, trapped in that old life trying to be the perfect daughter for my monster of a father, never able to even imagine any other way of being.
This is how he died then. A traitor, a liar, a cheat and a faker, but in the arms of the woman he clearly cared about.
How she felt, I’ll never know, and fuck, isn’t it so damn messed up?
“Didn’t know you cared about the creep.” Cormac appears at Kieren’s side and pushes his body away from Vera. My ex’s corpse rolls onto its back, blood seeping from a wound in his chest.
Beneath him, Vera gasps.
“Shit!” I say, scrambling back in shock, as Vera Baranov starts to moan in pain.
“Huh, interesting.” Cormac sounds like he’s looking over fish at the market. “This worked out well.”
“Kieren. What… Kieren…” Vera tries to sit up but Cormac puts a boot to her chest and holds her down. “Oh god… what happened…”
I get to my feet and walk over. She’s cut and bruised, but otherwise alive. The bullets that would’ve ended her were all taken by Kieren.
In the end, he did something right.
I crouch at Vera’s side and take her hand. She looks at me, frightened, but clearly desperate for some comfort. I hold tightly, squeezing, and smile.
“Don’t worry, you’re going to be okay.”
“But Kieren… he’s dead.”
“No more than he deserves.” I pat her hand and stand up. “Cormac? Let’s tie her up and throw her in the trunk. I have an idea.”
“No!” Vera struggles, screaming as Cormac throws her over his shoulder. “No, please! No!”
Cormac fixes me with a long look. “I like you.” Then he walks to the cars with a kicking and struggling Vera Baranov over his shoulder.
“Best compliment I’ve gotten all day,” I say quiet, looking down at Kieren. I wipe my face, feeling better. “Now back to work.”
CHAPTER 34
LIAM
The heat is unbearable. The smoke is even worse. I cough, hacking, and stay low as I stumble blindly through a blazing wreck. This place was probably nice before we blew up a metric shit-ton of natural gas hanging around in those massive tanks.
Shadows flit nearby. Someone screams and yells in pain. I ignore it, following the map in my head, making my way toward the front hallway. I pause, lean against a wall as several soldiers go jogging past, but they barely look at me. It’s pure chaos, fear gripping everyone, and I manage to make it to the stairs without any issues. I stop, catching my breath, the smoke clearer on this half of the structure though the fire’s spreading rapidly.
I make it halfway up when he appears in the gloom, a thick gash of red on his forehead, a manic gleam in his eyes.
Our eyes lock. Max Baranov seems more surprised than I am. He’s in a shirt, partway untucked, and trousers, no shoes, no socks. His hands are bloody, and he seems dazed, but there’s a burning recognition.