Page 147 of Unrequited

And suddenly, I’m teetering. I blink, trying to wake myself from this horrid dream, but it’s real, and it’s all happening too fast.

For one wild second, when he leans in close to me, I think he’s going to kiss me, that this is all some nightmare, and I’ll blink and wake up.

That he’ll say sorry.

But he doesn’t.

He pushes.

And the world rushes by me as I plummet downward.

Sky, sea, and screams blur together.

The icy mouth of the dark Irish Sea swallows me whole.

Chapter 27

SEAMUS

My hands are shaking,but I don’t let it show. I stand at the cliff’s edge, and I swear to fucking Christ, I’ll hear the sound of her scream being swallowed by the wind and water for the rest of my life. It's carved into me now, the sound of her voice breaking as the sea opened up beneath her.

The wind bites at my arms. She was wearing the little dress I picked out for her, loose and lightweight on purpose.

The sea crashes below like it’s mourning her, but I don’t look down. I can’t. Instead, I turn toward my crew. Toward Branson.

My heart is in my throat, pounding so loud it might crack my fucking ribs. “Are you happy now?” I snap, venom lacing my voice. “You fucking traitor.”

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. Just smiles, sharp and cruel.

There was a time I looked up to Branson. He was almost a hero to me. My father’s best mate. Loyal to our family. Powerful. Strong and ruthless. A man to fear, a man to follow. But now…

“I didn’t know you had it in you,” he mutters.

He turns away from me, bored already, and faces Ashland. “Find the body,” he says. “I want evidence that she’s gone. Call me when you have it,” he adds, like he's talking about a broken vase, and not a person.

Ashland nods. There's something in his eyes, almost a glint of glee. I don't meet his stare, don’t want to give anything away.

“Yes, sir,” he says and walks toward the narrow stone steps cut into the cliffside, leading down to the rocky beach below.

The sea is rising. The tide will wash everything away soon. We’re at high tide as the minutes drag.

The salt wind stings my eyes, but I don’t wipe it away. I don’t say a damn thing while I wait for Ashland’s call. I just stand there. Still. Numb. Until the phone rings.

Branson puts it on speaker, staring at me like this is a show he’s been waiting years to watch.

I turn, my breath catching.

Ashland’s voice comes through, clear and cold. “I’ve got her,” he says. “There’s no pulse. Looks like she broke her neck.”

A pause.

“She’s gone.”

I close my eyes. Even hearing those words makes pain lance through me, bright and vivid.

Branson smiles. “Well done, Seamus,” he says quietly, like he's proud. “Let’s go tell your father.”

We march into the house, and my stomach twists and churns. I feel like I might vomit, but I don’t reach for my phone. I don’t do anything except move.