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FORTY-FIVE

MOIRA

I come to in total darkness, my head throbbing like I spent the night downing tequila shots and banging my head against a brick wall. Well, the last thing I remember is downing a margarita, a bunch of shots, and then a beer, but I don’t recall a brick wall.

Annnnnd there’s the little fact that my arms are yanked behind my back, plastic zip ties biting into my wrists, and my butt is aching from a cold, hard concrete floor.

Oh. Right. I got kidnapped .

There’s a groan next to me. Then a muttered, “Fucking hell .”

Mads.

I exhale sharply, my own breath hot under the fabric covering my face. We’ve been hooded. Fucking fantastic. That’s a great sign.

“Mads? You alive?”

“Unfortunately.” A beat of silence. Then, “Moira. You absolute disaster of a human being. This is one hundred percent your fault.”

I bark out a laugh. “Oh, my fault? You were the one dragging me down the street like we were late for the fucking Oscars!”

“Yeah, because I was trying to save your life !” she hisses. “Jesus Christ, I tell you to break up with your priest, and instead of listening like a reasonable person, you drop that little bombshell— Oh, by the way, we got married —and the next second, we’re getting thrown into a goddamn van!”

I roll my shoulders, testing the zip ties. No give.

“That had nothing to do with this! Nobody even knows about that. He made sure the marriage certificate was confidential so it’s not a matter of public record.”

Not that I understood why at the time, but now I’m starting to get it. “Nobody would have even known I was with him. This is about that stupid paparazzi picture because you had to go smoke a stupid fucking cigarette when you knew there were fucking photographers around!”

Mads lets out a strangled noise. “Oh, fuck you , Moira. Fuck. You. I should’ve left you there. I should’ve just walked away and let you handle your own goddamn mess.”

I snort. “Uh-huh. Because you were the one who got dragged into my bullshit, not the other way around?”

“Oh my God, I hate you.” She shifts against the floor. “Where even are we?”

I tilt my head, listening. No city sounds. No people. Just the faint hum of industrial lighting and the drip-drip-drip of something that better be water. “Warehouse, maybe? Basement? Definitely somewhere creepy and murder-y.”

Mads sighs. “Fabulous. Just how I wanted to spend my night. Tied up next to you in a discount horror movie set.”

“Would you rather they knocked you out again? Because I could start screaming and see if they come back.”

“ Don’t you fucking dare. ”

“Then shut up and let me think.”

“Oh, great, Moira’s gonna think . This is already going so well ,” Mads mutters.

I shake my head. “Why didn’t you go running to your billionaire fiancé? Domhnall could have an entire army of mercs to protect him and you.”

Silence. A tense, angry silence.

Then I get it. “Oh shit, this is too big for even Domhnall to fix, isn’t it? But at least he could’ve tried .”

“And ended up with us all dead if any little thing got fucked up? No! I won’t risk him.” Then she growls, “You’re the idiot who fucked the son of the richest man in the world. So fuck you.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

She groans. “Okay, well, whatever your big plan is, I assume it involves some level of stupidity.”

I inhale deeply. “Oh, absolutely.”

“Of course it does,” she mutters. “This is really working out great for both of us. Just stellar planning all around. I love being tied up in a murder basement. Best day ever.”

I don’t answer. Instead, I take another deep breath. “Okay. This is gonna suck.”

“What?” Mads asks, immediately suspicious.

“I’m dislocating my thumb.”

“The fuck you are!”

“Too late!” I grit my teeth, inhale, and yank my wrist at just the right angle. A sharp, hot bolt of pain shoots up my arm as my thumb pops out of its socket. I swallow the scream trying to claw its way out of my throat. “Oh, motherfucker ?—”

“Oh my God, I think I’m gonna puke,” Mads gags next to me. “What the fuck , Moira?!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you have a better idea?” I hiss, blinking away tears. “Or do you just wanna keep lying here like a useless sack of shit?”

“You’re insane.”

“That’s rich coming from you, Splitzy. And look, I’m the only one escaping .” I flex my now-looser hand, grit my teeth, and work my fingers, slipping them through the zip tie one by one. It’s slow. Agonizing. But then?—

Snap.

I’m free.

I rip the hood off my head, blinking at the dim, flickering light overhead. It’s a concrete room with a metal door and no windows. Definitely a warehouse or a back alley butcher shop. Either way, not ideal.

Mads is still gagging. “I hate you. I hate everything about you. I hope you get tetanus from this floor.”

“Noted.” I rub my raw wrists, then reach for her zip ties.

“No,” she says sharply. “Moira, no . You can’t free me. If I go with you, they’ll think I helped you escape. I’m fucked if that happens. You can still stop all this. You need to run to that priest, break it off, and then disappear. If I stay, I can make sure Domhnall stays safe. I won’t do anything that puts him in danger.”

My stomach twists. “Mads?—”

“No.” Her voice is iron. “I mean it. You know me. You know I’m not bluffing. Domhnall’s everything to me, and I’ll play their game if it keeps him alive. But you have to go. Just break up with the priest, for fuck’s sake! It’s the only way any of us makes it out of this alive.”

I hesitate, my heart hammering. “This is stupid .”

“Oh yeah? Well, so is love , but here we fucking are. Now get the hell out of here before they catch you, or I swear I’ll start screaming.”

Footsteps echo in the hallway.

Fuck.

“You better not die,” I hiss at her. “Because Domhnall will so fucking kill me if you die.”

“I’ve got more lives than a cat,” she whispers, “Now get the fuck out of here!”

I hesitate. Just for a second.

Then I run.

The hallway is dim, smelling like damp concrete and impending doom. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, and I don’t have time to think about anything except run, Moira, run .

But of course, because the universe hates me, a door at the end of the hall swings open, and out steps a brick shithouse of a man. Bald, beefy, wearing a scowl like he was born with it. And he’s got a gun in one hand.

“Well, well,” he drawls, cracking his knuckles like some dime-store henchman. “Looks like the little rabbit got out of her hole.”

Oh, he’s one of those guys. Big. Dumb. Likes to intimidate. Probably has a really complicated relationship with his mother.

I plant my feet and tilt my head. “Oh, wow. A scary man with a gun. I’m so frightened.” I clutch my chest like some old-timey fainting maiden. “Please, sir, don’t hurt me!”

His eyes narrow. “You think this is funny?”

This is the problem with feeling ambivalent about death. It really makes you lose a proper scope of situations. I realize, somewhere in the back of my brain, I ought to be shitting my drawers right now.

But all I register is being pissed the fuck off.

“Oh, no. I know it’s funny.” And then I charge .

Look, I don’t do things by halves. I go all in . So I sprint at him like an actual lunatic , shrieking at the top of my lungs, flailing my arms like a windmill in a tornado.

It works.

The guy’s brain short-circuits, his gun goes up, and that’s all I need.

I launch myself at him, clawing at his face like a feral raccoon that’s just been evicted from a dumpster. I get a handful of his ear, yank, and he howls . The gun wobbles in his grip, and I slam my knee right between his legs.

“Oh—FUCK—!” he grunts, doubling over, and I use the opportunity to rip the gun from his hand.

I take two steps back, leveling the barrel at his forehead while he groans and tries to collect himself.

“Damn,” I say, catching my breath. “You are terrible at this. Didn’t they teach you anything in goon school?”

He blinks, then scowls. “Where’s Veronica?”

I freeze.

Veronica?

Who the fuck is Veronica?

For a split second, my brain does the math—and then it clicks. Oh. Mads . He doesn’t know her real name.

Right. Time to improvise.

I let out a bitter little laugh, rolling my eyes. “That bitch ? She’s the reason I’m in this mess. She set me up! And has been bamboozling my brother. Soon as I got loose, I bolted. Fuck her.”

He studies me like he’s deciding whether to believe me. So I do what any good liar does: I double down.

“You think I’d waste my time saving someone who betrayed me and my family? Please. You’re stupider than you look. And listen here. I’m not an idiot. My brother and I are out . I’m breaking it off with Blackwolf Jr, got it? I don’t need this shit.”

His lip curls, and for a second, I think he’s gonna say something. Maybe call me a liar. Maybe take his chances.

Too bad for him, I don’t give him the opportunity.

I swing the gun, cracking him right in the temple with the handle. His eyes roll back, and he drops like a sack of potatoes.

I step over him, adjusting my grip on the gun. “Nighty night, asshole.”

It’s only right as I’m about to leave him in the dust and get the hell out of there that it clicks.

Mads suggested this was blackmail or a rival for my spot who wanted me to break up with Bane.

But why wouldn’t they have tried offering me money first instead of this elaborate plot?

And then my stomach drops.

Because there’s only one person who has both the power and the spite to go this far just to rip Bane and me apart. Somebody who did try offering money first.

Fuck.

What if it’s his father ?

But I don’t have time to dwell on it. Not now. Not when I still have to get out of here alive.

I lean down and riffle through the thug’s pockets. Nothing but a couple extra ammo cartridges.

I shove the extra ammo in my pocket, grip the gun tight, and run .