Page 150 of Bad Bishop

“She suffered some blood loss, and we’re monitoring the concussion closely. But we have every reason to think she’ll pull through.”

“And the baby?”

Silence stretched on the other side of the line. It was only then that I realized I didn’t want this baby to die. Or rather, not to live. Lila was attached to it. She glowed when she caressed her belly. And if she could love something that symbolized thefucked-up shit that happened to her, then by God, so could my sorry arse.

Dr. Delgado cleared his throat.

“Your wife’s survival was our first priority, Mr. Callaghan. Now that we managed to stabilize her and stop the internal bleeding, we’re going to run some tests. A world-renowned obstetrician is seeing her as we speak.”

“I’m heading there now. Keep me posted.” I killed the call.

When I turned around, Luca and Achilles stared back at me, faces etched with worry. Jeremie was held by the collar of his blood-soaked shirt by Achilles.

“Fill us in,” Luca demanded.

“Lila and Tierney were in a car accident. It was bad. They’re in the hospital.”

“Are they okay?” Luca rubbed his knuckles over his chest.

“Lila’s stable. They don’t know about the baby yet.”

“Plane’s ready.” Luca jerked his chin at the van. “Let’s hit the road.”

We clamored into the van, leaving our driver and about a dozen soldiers behind to fend for themselves. Luca insisted he’d drive.

“And Tierney?” Achilles asked after a long stretch of silence, as Luca floored his way out of the warehouse and onto the open road on his way to the private airport. Golden clouds of sand swirled behind us.

I turned toward him, dazed. “What?”

“Tierney,” he repeated, nostrils flaring. “Your fucking sister, Tiernan. You didn’t even ask about her, did you?”

Fuck. What was wrong with me?

I pulled my phone out and texted Fintan. He answered after less than one second.

“Stable, conscious, in the room next to Lila.”

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Achilles twisted his mouth, snarling at me from across the back seat. “She’s your sister.”

My phone lit up with a text.

Fintan: I’m not going to leave their side until you get here. Don’t worry, lad.

Tiernan: Make sure there are two soldiers outside Lila’s room at all times. You stay inside until I get there. No one comes in or out other than medical staff.

Fintan: Understood.

I thumped my head against the seat back.

What the fuck was happening to me?

From infancy, I’d been carved to control myself. Trained to recognize a seed of emotion and promptly poison it before it could grow. I spent three decades perfecting the art of knowing my own limits, both mental and physical, and testing, stretching them, moving the goalpost to become as deadly as a weapon of mass destruction.

I neverfelt. Feelings were foreign to me. Isensed.

Sensed when it was time to strike.

To hit.