Page 110 of Dublin Beast

I swing it with everything I have and it connects with his shoulder. It’s enough to knock him to the side, but it doesn’t slow him down—it only pisses him off more.

“Do you think you can fuck with me, little girl?” He lunges, hurling himself at me and taking me to the mattress on the bed.

We scramble, him trying to get a restraining hold and me kicking and clawing with all my might.

Then a sharp yank tears through my scalp.

I scream as I’m dragged back by my hair and whipped around to get slammed hard into the floor.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he roars, spit flying, face contorted with rage. “How much trouble you’ve caused? My uncle iced me out. Said I was a disgrace and won’t speak to me until I deal with the mess you’ve caused.”

“You sold my friends!”

I twist, kicking, scratching,fightinglike hell. My elbow slams into his ribs. He grunts.

I grab his wrist, pivot,snapmy hips to throw him off-balance. He hits the floor but takes me with him.

His gun is holstered against his left shoulder and we both go for it at the same time. He swings his arm and his elbow catches me in the eye.

My head snaps back as black spots darken my vision.No. I can’t pass out. He’ll kill me if I stop fighting.

I shake my head, but the world is spinning. My strength and coordination abandon me for a moment, but a lifetime of boxing and martial arts has taught me to take a hit.

I hang onto consciousness by a thread, but it’s a win. With both my hands tightened against both of his, we fight for control of the gun.

My arms ache, my muscles losing strength fast. I swing my hips and bring my knee down on his balls, trapping them against the hardwood.

He shouts in my ear and pulls the gun between us. He’s sloppy from pain. I’m losing strength. We’re rolling on top of each other, both of us refusing to let go of the gun clamped between us.

Bang.The gungoes off.

I’m lost in the panic of the gunshot.

Heat.

Pressure.

And then?—

The burning heat of blood spreading across my chest. I can’t breathe. My vision tilts.

Blood blooms hot and sticky across my shirt, soaking into my skin. I blink up at the ceiling.

It swims. Dims. Slips out of focus.

Eddie’s face looms over me, furious… panicked.

And then—darkness.

CHAPTERTHIRTY

Bryan

Ishouldn’t be driving this fast.

Not through these streets. Not with my hands still twitching from the conversation with Drake. Not with my mind spiraling into every worst-case scenario that’s ever existed.

What the hell did she say to Tag? What did shewantfrom him that she couldn’t ask me? Is she leaving? Did she ask for protection? Backing? Or worse—did she ask to disappear?

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