Page 191 of Three Irish Kings

I can’t lose them. Any of them. I just can’t.

Especially if I lose them because they were trying to save me. It’ll be all my fault. I’ll never forgive myself as long as I live.

Liam goes silent, jerking the wheel to the right to speed down an alleyway toward the hospital.

Cillian is out of commission and Dare’s in and out of consciousness, blinking slowly as he looks up at me, coughing up blood.

It’s bad. It’s so bad, and I’m pressing my hand against his wound to staunch the bleeding, but blood is just trickling over my hands.

“Go, go go!” I shout, and Liam grits his teeth.

I can see him in the rearview mirror.

He glances back at me, and his blue eyes are full of worry.

Liam squeals tires as he stops at the front of the hospital and rushes out, shouting at the medical professionals to hurry.

Soon enough, nurses are dragging Dare and Cillian out of the car onto stretchers. As they wheel them in, a nurse is straddling Dare, giving him CPR. He’s lost his pulse.

Panic and fear overcome me, and I burst into sobs, unable to stop. Liam picks me up, carrying me into the hospital, and I hold onto him for dear life, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.

I sob into his neck.

He simply sits down in the waiting room with me in his lap, stroking my hair.

I finally start to calm down, sniffling, and he strokes my head.

“We need to get you checked out.”

The baby.

With all this stress, I haven’t even thought about the baby.

I nod, slowly climbing off Liam’s lap.

“Will you come with me?”

“Aye,” he says easily, standing up and taking my hand as we go to register.

It takes hours for them to call me back, and there’s no update on either Dare or Cillian.

All we’ve been told is that they are in surgery. Dare, to repair internal bleeding, Cillian, to remove the projectiles and assess the damage.

I hope they make it out.

Please, God, don’t take my men away from me.

As if reading my thoughts, Liam squeezes my hand.

“They’re going to be okay. They’re tough bastards.”

I smile weakly through my tears. I can’t seem to stop crying, no matter how I try.

I get into a gown and on the table with a heart rate monitor around my bruised belly.

Liam frowns as he takes in the sight, his fists clenching at his side.

The steady whoosh of the baby’s heartbeat fills the room, comforting me.