Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
“It didn't.”
“You don't know—”
His good hand slides to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my sticky hair. “Don't ever fucking do that again.”
“I promise, as long as you promise you don't get yourself beaten half to death again.”
He shakes his head, then winces. “Can't promise that, love.”
The words hang between us, a promise neither one of us can keep. Because next time, it might be too late. Next time, there might not be a gun. Next time, we might not both get up.
We stay like that, bloody and exhausted, until Declan finally knocks on the door.
“They're here. Let's get him home.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Cavin
Everything's fuckin' sideways. Voices drift in and out, familiar but distorted, like I'm drowning underwater. Hands on me—too many hands. I try to shove them off, but my body won't cooperate.
One arm's dead weight and useless, and the other swings wild, connecting with something solid.
“Easy, Cav, fuck off!”
“Where's Erin?” I try to talk, but the words come out wrong and thick and mangled.
“She's fine, lad. Knock it off.”
And then Seamus's voice, authoritative and angry. “Stop fuckin' fighting us.”
“Hold him down,” says somebody else.
No. Nobody's holding me down. Never again.
Somebody grabs my arm, and I thrash harder. Pain explodes through my fuckin' skull like a bullet—white-hot and blinding. I might scream. I can't tell.
Then her voice cuts through the chaos. “Cavin? Cavin, it's alright. You're home. You're safe.”
I feel her tiny hand slide into mine. “No,” she says to somebody, not me. “Don't hold me back. He won't hurt me.”
“Erin?” I force an eye open. Everything's blurry and doubled.
Faces lean over me—Seamus, Declan, Daire—too close, too many.
“Where's Erin?”
“I'm here, love.” My tongue feels too big for my mouth.
“I'm here.” Her small hands are on my face now, gentle and warm. “I'm right here. Please, do what you're told for once in your fuckin' life, will you?”
Somebody laughs behind her, but she's serious. Her hair's a mess, and she's streaked with blood.
“Oh my god, are you alright?” My vision swims.
“I'm fine,” she says quickly. “It's your blood on me, love. Please.”
When she blinks, a fat tear rolls down her cheek. She's crying.
I blink hard, trying to focus. She's pale as death, her clothes covered in my blood. But she's standing. Breathing. Thank Christ.
I can't remember what happened, but I remember her.
“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” I ask, the words scraped out of me.
“No, I'm the one who’s fine. You're hurt, Cavin,” she says, and then she's crying freely now.
“You're a liar.” I see the cuts on her feet, the shake in her hands. “You're—”
“Cavin, stop,” she says, her voice sharp and commanding. “You need to settle. The medic's here. I promise, I'm fine. Somebody tell him I'm fuckin' fine.”
“She's fine, lad,” Seamus says, his firm hand on my shoulder. “Lie down. You want to be here to see tomorrow, don't you?”
I blink at him. There are two Seamuses floating in front of me.
Then I remember. The fight. The kid from Cork. Mackey.
Something wrong. Somebody behind me.
Fuck. Who was it?
I try to sit up, but hands push me back down. Probably Seamus, the big bastard.
“Get the fuck off—”
“Easy, brother. You're grand. Just stay down.”
“Did you get him?” I growl. “The big fucker with the—” Another wave of pain crashes through my skull, and I lose the words… lose everything for a second. The world swims in front of me.
Erin starts crying harder.
“Stop it,” she says firmly. She pushes Seamus off and takes my hand, gripping it tight. She lets me squeeze. “Let me handle him. I'm the only one he listens to.” She bends her face to mine again. “Cavin. Lie down. This is what happened. You fought the Cork lad, Mackey. Do you remember that?”
I nod, just barely.
“During the fight, somebody ambushed you with a pipe. Cracked you over the skull.” She swallows hard. “Tried to get you a second time, but I stopped him.”
“That she did with Ciarán’s gun.”
“You’ve got to teach me how to fuckin' shoot when you're better,” she says under her breath. “I would have shot him if I could have, but I wasn’t sure I wouldn't hurt somebody accidentally in the crowd.”
I let out a breath. “Right. We'll talk about that later, I promise.”
“Right. But we got the pipe. Declan, you still have it?” she says over her shoulder.
“Aye,” he says, brandishing it.
Erin winces when she sees blood dripping down the side. “Take it. Scan it for prints. Find out who the fuck he is.”
And then Seamus is barking out orders to Declan and Lorcan. “We have to go see if there's any footage in the club.”
“You know there's no fuckin' footage in the ring,” they say.
But Erin ushers them out.
And then I blink and see the doc leaning over me. Where’s Erin?
“Concussion,” he's saying. “Could be worse. Of all things, the little knit cap took some of the impact.”