Page 3

THREE

emmanuel

The rifle feels heavy in my hands. I hadn’t expected this.

I was just wanting to learn with a smaller gun, but once Jer taught me the basics, he got this wicked smirk on his face and made a call to Cole James, who rushed over from London to meet me.

After two days of intense training with both him and Jer, I've grown accustomed to the weight of a gun.

But this is different. More serious. More deadly.

Cole stands behind me. He’s got a thick beard and dark hair, looking very much like his father, Travis, who also came over from London.

Apparently, Jer raved about me so much they had to meet me.

"Remember, breathe steadily; in through your nose, out through your mouth.

When you're ready to take the shot, exhale slowly and squeeze the trigger. "

I nod, trying to keep my hands from shaking as I peer through the scope. The target is set up two hundred meters away—a paper silhouette of a man. In my mind, it's my father's face I see there.

"You're a natural," Cole remarks as I fire off three shots in quick succession. Each one hits the target's center mass. "Jer was right. Then again, the man usually is."

I lower the rifle, a mixture of pride and unease churning in my gut. "Thanks," I mutter.

Cole claps me on the shoulder. "Listen, kid, I know why you're doing this. Jer filled me in. But are you sure you're ready for what comes next? Taking a life... it changes you."

I meet his gaze, steeling myself. I won’t let my father get anywhere near my ma. He’s hurt her one too many times already. "I'm ready to do whatever it takes to protect Ma."

He studies me for a long moment, then nods. "Alright then. Let's move on to moving targets. In real life, they rarely stand still for you."

As we continue training, my mind wanders to my ma.

She's still staying with Patty, thinking it's just until the new security system is in place.

She has no idea what I'm really preparing for.

Part of me feels guilty for keeping her in the dark, but I know it's for the best. She'd never approve of this.

Hours pass, and by the end, my arms ache and my ears ring from the gunfire. But I feel more confident, more in control. Cole seems impressed.

"You've got real potential, Emmanuel," he says as we pack up the gear. "If you ever want a job with The Agency, give me a call."

I stare at him, shocked that he would offer me a job. "Do you think I'm ready?”

Cole's expression turns serious. "You've got the skills. But remember, taking a life isn't just about pulling a trigger. It's about living with the consequences. Make sure you're prepared for that too."

His words echo in my head as I drive home. Am I really ready to kill my own father, the man who gave me life, even if he's been nothing but a disappointment since?

But then I remember the sound of his fist connecting with Ma's face. The fear in her eyes every time he comes home drunk. The years of abuse and neglect.

Yeah, I'm ready. And God help him if he dares to show his face again.

* * *

I'm sitting on the couch, flipping through channels mindlessly, when my phone buzzes. It's Jer. My heart rate picks up—he wouldn't call unless it was important.

"Emmanuel, we've got a situation," he says, his voice grim. "It's about your father."

My grip tightens on the phone. "What's he done now?"

There's a heavy pause. "He's taken a girl. Eleven years old. Killed her parents and little brother in the process."

The world tilts sideways. I feel like I'm going to be sick. "What?" I choke out.

"We think he's desperate for money and planning to ransom her," Jer continues. "But he's drunk, unstable. We need to find her fast."

My mind is reeling. I knew my father was a bastard, but this? This is beyond anything I could have imagined.

"Emmanuel," Jer's voice cuts through my shock, "we need to know if you have any idea where he might be. Any place he'd go to hide out?"

My mind races, trying to process this horror while searching for anything useful.

"He doesn't have many friends left," I say slowly.

"He burned most of those bridges years ago.

But... There's an old fishing cabin, up in Donegal.

We went there a lot when I was little, before things got bad.

I don't know if he still has access to it, but it's isolated. It might be a good place to hide out."

He loved that place and would visit often. That was before he became a raging alcoholic. Before he started hitting Ma. Before our family fell apart.

"Good lad," Jer says. "Can you get us there?"

I nod, then realize he can't see me. "Yeah. Yeah, I can."

"Alright. Be ready in ten minutes. We're coming to get you."

The line goes dead and I'm left staring at my phone, numb with disbelief. An innocent little girl. A family destroyed. Because of him. Because of my father.

I think of the gun hidden in my room and the hours of training with Cole. I thought I was preparing to protect my family from my father. I never imagined I'd be using those skills to save someone else from him.

As I grab my jacket and wait for Jer, a cold certainty settles over me. One way or another, my da’s going to get what’s coming to him. If that means I have to be the one to pull the trigger, so be it. Some men don't deserve to live, and Jacob Dellinger has just proven he's one of them.

True to his word, ten minutes later, there's a car outside waiting for me.

The car ride is tense, filled with a heavy silence as we speed toward Donegal.

I'm in the backseat, sandwiched between two of Jer's men, one of which is Stephen, who’s close to Jer and my best friend, Maverick’s, family.

He’s quiet—which is normal—but tense and alert, ready and waiting for whatever is going to happen next.

Jer himself is up front, barking orders into his phone while Thomas—Patty’s husband—drives.

I pull out my own phone, steeling myself, before searching for news about what my father's done. There are over fifty articles, all of them detailing the horrific things my father has done. My stomach churns as I read the details:

The O’Rourke family. Mother, father, two kids. They lived in a nice neighborhood, the kind of place my ma always dreamed of. The kind of life we could have had if my da wasn't such a useless drunk.

He broke in around midnight. The parents woke up and tried to stop him, but he overpowered them somehow and slit their throats.

The father died first, so he probably overpowered him at the beginning.

The noise woke the son, who was only seven years old.

From the reports, he ran to his parents' room. Da stabbed him too. His ma’s body was found close to his.

Fuck... I swallow hard. This is sick. What the fuck was my father thinking?

I continue to read. Clodagh is eleven years old. From what the reports say, she was dragged from her bed to the waiting car. A neighbor heard the commotion and called the guards. But by then, Da was long gone with Clodagh.

I close my eyes, fighting back tears of rage and shame. How could he do this? How could my own flesh and blood be capable of such evil?

"You alright back there?" Jer's voice cuts through my thoughts.

I look up, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror. "Yeah," I lie. "Just... processing."

He nods, understanding in his gaze. "Your old man's actions aren't on you, Emmanuel. Remember that."

I nod back, but his words do little to ease the guilt gnawing at me. If I'd had the courage to do something sooner, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe that little girl would still have her family.

As we continue our journey north, I pray that we find him. That little girl has been through hell already. God knows what that bastard is doing to her right now. She needs to come home and he needs to be six feet under.

The weight of the gun at my hip is a constant reminder. I've been training for the past two days for this moment. Now it's time to put that training to use.

God help you, Da, because when I find you, I sure as hell won't.

* * *

The cabin was empty when we arrived. The three-hour drive was completely useless. There was nothing there but dust and cobwebs. No sign of Da or the girl. No one had been there in years. I felt hollow as we drove back, the weight of failure pressing down on me.

The car pulls up in front of my home. “You did good today, Emmanuel,” Jer says softly. “Remember, you are not your father. You’re a better man than he is and you’re only sixteen.”

I grit my teeth and nod. He may not think I’m my father, but I know damn well that there are people out there who are going to think that.

“Come see me tomorrow,” he tells me as I climb out of the car. “Don’t let this shit get to you. We’ll find your da, Emmanuel, and when we do, he won’t be able to hurt anyone again.”

“Thanks,” I say as I step toward the house. I know that when my da is finally found, he’s going to be in for a world of hurt. The question is: what is he going to subject that girl to in the meantime?

As I walk into the house I’m blasted with heat, which means Ma’s home. I shrug my jacket off and hang it on the stair rail before walking into the sitting room, where Ma's waiting for me. Her eyes are red-rimmed, her face pale. She knows.

"Oh, Emmanuel," she whispers, pulling me into a tight hug. I let myself sink into her embrace, feeling like a little boy again, wanting her to make everything better.

"You've heard then," I say quietly once we pull apart.

She nods, tears spilling down her face as she takes a seat on the sofa. "How could he do this, Emmanuel? How could he hurt that poor family?"

I sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "He's not the man you married, Ma. He hasn't been for a long time."

She leans into me, her body wracked with sobs. "I keep thinking... if I'd left him sooner, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe I could have stopped it somehow."

"No," I say firmly. "This isn't on you. It's all him. He made his choices."

We sit in silence for a while, the weight of everything hanging heavy between us. Finally, Ma speaks again.

"What happens now?"

I take a deep breath. "I don't know. But I promise you, I'll do whatever it takes to make this right."

She looks at me, worry etched on her face. "Just be careful, hun. I couldn't bear to lose you too."

I nod, guilt twisting in my gut. If she knew what I was planning, she'd be horrified. But I can't tell her. This is something I have to do on my own.

After Ma goes to bed, I slip outside and call Cole.

"Emmanuel," he answers on the first ring. "Any luck?"

"No," I say, frustration clear in my voice. "The cabin was a dead end."

There's a pause. "So, what's your next move?"

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "I want in. The Agency—I want the job."

"Are you sure?" Cole asks, his voice serious. "This isn't a decision to make lightly."

"I'm sure," I say firmly. "I need to make sure assholes like him are taken care of.”

There's another pause, longer this time. "Alright," he says finally. "I'll make the arrangements. But, Emmanuel, remember what I said. This life... it changes you. There's no going back."

"I know," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm ready."

As I hang up, I look back at the house. At the life I'm leaving behind. But I know this is what I have to do. For Ma. For that little girl. For all the people who have been hurt by assholes like my da.

Their days are numbered—I’ll make sure of it. And hopefully, I’ll stumble across Jacob Dellinger at some point too.