Page 87 of Killaney Blood

Callum's jaw tightens. "Shane told me what happened. An ambush at Frank's gym?"

I nod. "They were waiting for us. Had men on the roof, both ends of the alley. Professional hit."

"Albanians?" Callum asks, raising an eyebrow.

I hesitate. Callum's always been able to tell when I'm lying. But I need time, time to heal, time to investigate, time to plan my revenge without family interference.

"Yeah," I say finally. "Payback for what I did to Amar and his crew."

Callum studies me for a long moment, his eyes boring into mine. "And that's all?"

"That's all," I lie.

He doesn't believe me, I can see it in his face, but he doesn't push. Instead, he sighs. "We'll discuss this more when you're stronger. For now, don't kill heads of mafia families, okay?"

"Deal," I say.

"And when the time's right, brother, let's move you to a bed, have one of your doctors come and check things over."

"Okay."

"Actually, sir, if you want, we can move him now?" Shane asks.

Callum looks down at me. "Yeah, good idea," he says and calls in a few other men and they and Shane crowded around me.

"I made a room up for him down the hall, I'll show you," Nina says somewhere out of view.

As they prepare to move me, my thoughts drift to this Phantom King, whoever the fuck he is, and that he's going to pay dearly for this. But first, I need to heal. And I need to make sure Lyra is okay and thank her, because she didn't just save my life. She gave me a reason to keep living.

Shane and the others position themselves on either side of me. "On three," Callum instructs. "One, two, three."

They lift me, and pain tears through my side like a hot poker. Black spots dance in my vision, and I struggle to remain conscious as they carry me from the dining room.

I catch a glimpse of the bloody table as we leave, evidence of how close I came to death, and of the woman who pulled me back from the edge.

27

LYRA

My cheek rests against something soft, a silk pillowcase, maybe. A heavy weight pulls at my limbs, like I'm submerged in water. My skull throbs with each heartbeat. I've been here before. This foggy space between unconsciousness and waking.

Then the ache in my arm hits, a dull throb in the crook where I know I stuck the needle.

My eyes flutter open.

The ceiling above me I don't recognize. It's not Declan's room.

I rub my eyes, trying to clear the blurriness.

When my vision clears, I register a man sitting in an armchair beside the bed.

At first, I think it's Declan. He's got the same sharp cheekbones and dark hair, but he's different. His eyes are the same unmistakable shade of green, though, too vivid to be anyone else's family but Declan's.

And speaking of, memories flash through my mind. Blood. So much blood. Him on the table. My hand shaking as I pushed the needle into my vein.

"Declan!" I bolt upright, ignoring the wave of dizziness that nearly knocks me back down. "Is he?—"

"He's fine. Don't worry," the man says, his voice calm.