Page 59 of The Celtic Resolution

He struggles to focus on me and blinks sluggishly, but as his lips press together for another word, hands suddenly grab my shoulders and arms and drag me away.

“No!” I immediately begin to thrash in every direction, lashing out fiercely at the men I didn’t even hear coming. “No, let me go! I’ll kill you, I’ll fucking kill you!”

Never have I meant something as strongly as I do in this moment. My fists connect with faces, my kicks land but there are more men this time and I’m swiftly overpowered with two punches to my face and one to my gut.

That one sends ice through my veins and I’m forced to the floor with someone’s knee pressing onto my head to keep me down.

“He was right, she’s a fucking wildcat,” says one man who walks around me twirling a blade.

“The fun we could have,” sneers another.

“Shame she’s already spoken for,” adds a third.

“But he isn’t,” comes the first voice again. “This meat’s fair game.”

I’ve witnessed a lot in my time in this world. I pride myself on my own torture methods and my skill at getting people to talk, and I justify my own cruelty by having a goal. A goal to protect my family and my people.

These fuckers have no goal. They torture Cian for the enjoyment of it and force me to watch.

He’s my brother. I love him more than I love myself, and I’m powerless to do anything but watch as they cut up his body, beat him, burn him, shave his head, and twist the broken bone at his shin until he screams himself hoarse and passes out. They’re quick to wake him though.

I can’t help him. I’m utterly powerless.

“Do you see?” Hands finally drag me to my feet and it’s not until a fat, meaty hand grabs my jaw and forces me to look intoa round, angry face with bloodshot eyes and a piggy nose that I realize I’ve been crying.

“See what?” I spit hoarsely, unable to stop my body trembling.

“This is what happens when you stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, bitch.”

His fingers pry painfully into my jaw and he forces me to face Cian as his torturer grabs one more blade from the tray.

“Wait,” I gasp as that blade is lifted to his throat. “Wait, no hold on. Hold on wait, no don’t. Don’t. Don’t! Please, don’t do it. Cian! CIAN!”

They hold me and force me to watch as that blade slices across his throat and blood cascades down his chest like a wave. His eyes meet mine and the fear in them melts away to understanding.

Painful defeat.

What have I done?

26

BRUNO

The alcohol here isn’t strong enough. Another shot of Vodka and the intense pressure in my chest that’s existed ever since I found that woman in the container doesn’t shift. It’s been there for a week, restricting my breathing and making sleep impossible.

How can I sleep?

How can I when I’ve been so fucking wrong abouteverything?

A week ago when I found that woman inside the container, I thought there’d been some kind of mix-up. Maybe she was high and had wandered inside by accident. An easy mistake I told myself as I guided her out. Until I recognized her tattoo and realized I’d saved her before. Back at that wreck of a house. She’d clung to me all the way to the hospital where she’d then vanished, along with everyone else Saoirse and I rescued.

So I’d reported it.

And who turned up? My father.

Because who else would it be?

“Another?” Hazel stands across from me with the bottle of Vodka in her hand.