Page 43 of Hostile Bond
Both of them are family––my everything. Except one is dangerously vulnerable, while the otherisdanger.
Despite the horrifying memories swamping me, I’m not that innocent child anymore. Even though Sean didn’t kill us that night, it doesn't mean all is forgiven. The bitterness I’ve held onto all these years is still strong and the secret I’ve had to keep from my husband has felt like creeping death.
But now the tables have turned. Sean is a predator, Mammy is his prey, and I’m the lethal land mine he would never see coming.
If I was by her side this very minute, I’d easily put my hands around his neck and choke the poison from his tarnished soul. No hesitation. No regret. Because that’s the price he must pay––justice.
I lower to my knees, maddened by the jagged conflict chewing up my stomach and palm my forehead to see if it balances me. It doesn’t. All the torn-up pieces of me are at war and my heartstrings are being plucked out.
My husband.
My mother.
Sean Hennessy––the man I want dead.
I’m stuck in no-man's-land, my heart floundering in one direction and my brain torn in the other. Divided by the demon in my psyche and the angel in my conscience.
The last time I was this distraught, I’d thought André was inside Sky Hotel when it blew up. My whole existence had withered. The prospect of carrying on without him unthinkable. Yet here I am now, in an impossible predicament that could ultimately eliminate me from his heart––forever.
Blinking wildly, I punch in the combination code for the safe. Inside, my new gun sits on top of a stack of hundred-dollar bill bricks held together with rubber bands. Tucked beside them are two passports. One of them is mine––Sinéad Souza. My husband had thought of everything.
I take what I need and scrub my eyes, exhaling heavily.
Can I really trade my happiness for lonely nights again?
Aware the safety is on, I secure my new gun in the waistband of my tight jeans and stuff the money in a compact Versace zippered backpack, then start to pace. Back and forth, the brand new leather boots I’d shoved my feet into are stiff and restrictive. I refuse to stop and meet my reflection in the wall mounted mirror, to eyeball the person I’ve mutated into.
A wife who absconds from the love of her life.
An unforgiving Reaper who’s falling deeper into the criminal underworld.
The daughter who seeks justice for her mentally fragile mother.
Mammy portrayed as much strength as a woman could after we’d left Dublin with nothing. However, the older I got, the more I recognized her daily struggle. How she battled her nerves, checked over her shoulder too many times at night, or when men in the bar became rowdy, it would set off an internal flare.
The signs were all there for me to see––even if she’d pretended everything was okay. Her invisible scars were visible to me.
My heart thrums to the broken sound of my muted whimpers. André is the only one who can find me in the darkness seeping into my skin like a disease. But he couldn’t possibly align himself with the depth of my hatred for his uncle.
No one fucks with me. Not after everything I’ve been through. And the fact Sean is sniffing around my mother only confirms his intentions. He wants to fuck with Mammy all over again—except this time, when I point the gun at him, I won’t fail.
Knowing what I know now ahead of André means I have to take control of my life in this moment. Not place it in the hands of my Hotshot husband. I’ll tap into the monster woven through my soul, the monster born from Sean’s beating fists and immoral deeds.
I’m going to end this once and for all, regardless of the consequences. Maybe one day, if his family doesn't kill me first, André might find it in his heart to forgive me.
My stomach churns when I open the door and creep through the suite, passing the bed where he’s sound asleep. I hesitate in the shadows and clutch my thumping heart when it tries to burst out of my chest to reach him.
“I’ll always love you, Dré…” I whisper. Feeling my lower lip wobble, I sink my teeth down hard to stop it.
Instincts warn me not to leave him, to crawl back under the cotton sheets and tell him the truth when he wakes, but that won’t help Mammy.
I’m her only hope.
So, I make the hardest decision of my life and keep walking, leaving my heart in a bloody heap on the floor next to our bed.
17
ANDRÉ
