Page 63 of Hostile Bond
My brain malfunctions. Too much had happened. I’d lost any say in how my future unfolded. From being kidnapped to reciting vows. Waking up on a yacht as a mafia princess and leaving it as a cartel wife. But now, in the middle of a dangerous battle, the past flashes before my eyes and I view Sean through the eyes of the little girl who’d failed to pull the trigger and sink to his level.
Ifeelthe suffocating anguish of right and wrong. Morals versus corruption. The battle between angels and demons––and I pick the only side that has any influence.
My husband.
The real devil whose heart belongs to me.
Holding my breath, I raise the poker above my head and swing. It connects with flesh and bone. Not once or twice––repeatedly. Over and over again. I can’t repress the violence charging through me. A baneful fire spreads within my veins. I’m not that innocent child anymore, and I’m not afraid of the bastard I’m attacking.
Through the flames in my eyes, I don’t see the strikes as they land. I just see red being taken over by darkness and feel the hemorrhaging hysteria of fury and protection. A deranged sob bubbles from the back of my throat. My uncivilized gaze blurs from salty tears.
I’m not sure how long I continue assaulting his motionless body, my hellish temper raw and uncontrollable, until I vaguely hear my name through the black smog.
“Sinéad.” The commanding way my husband says my name rips me out of the frenzy, his voice electrocuting me to a standstill. As fast as I’d slipped into the darkness of mania, I fell out of it. “It’s okay, Sin.”
I stare at the bloodied man at my feet, destroyed and pitiful. A whimper scrapes free from my throat, and I drop the poker like the iron had scalded me even though my arteries hiss with the heat of vengeance.
My murderous hands fly to my face, covering my eyes. “Oh my God… what have I done? Is he dead? I—I…”
I watch through my shaky fingers as André lowers to his knees, my pulse pounding. “He's unconscious. There’s barely a pulse. Don’t worry, I’ll finish this.”
My legs give out, only to hit a solid wall of muscle when André jumps to save me from falling. He circles my shoulders and holds me flush against his chest, our hearts colliding, the rhythm matching hard and fast.
I tremble when he pulls back a little and holds my cheeks in his strong bloodied hands, his carbon black eyes swallowing me whole.
“Time to go, Sin.”
I hiccup through a stifled sob, aware of the sweat rolling down my spine. “He killed her, Dré. He shot Mammy… and Liam. I couldn’t save them. Breaking us… that was all for nothing, because she’s gone… I—I failed her.” My throat aches from trying not to cry.
His forehead creases. “If by breaking us you mean that I flew across the world to prove how much I love you, then I’ll happily take my wife and all of those broken pieces home to our island.” He thumbs the corners of my watery eyes, mixing his blood with my tears. “We can patch them up together in the sunshine, Wifey. This place is fucking freezing.”
I stare up at him and lose sight of The Rusty Shamrock’s destroyed interior, the armed men guarding the exit, and the lifeless bodies haplessly strewn on the floor. All I see is the man who flew to Ireland––for me.
“I love you, Dré…”
As the words leave my quivering lips, the crack of gunfire burns in my ears. My body jerks as if a sledgehammer had hit me and a blistering pain steals my breath.
André’s loving stare switches to ferocious, and a second shot is fired from across the room. He pauses for a racing heartbeat, his wide eyes burning into mine. I’m hazily aware of the soldiers joining us, their guns pointed at Sean lying on the floor.
Molten pain attacks me.
My eyes go blind.
“Dré…” His name leaves my mouth on a breathy gasp.
24
ANDRÉ
“Jesus fuck…” Her beautiful eyes roll to the back of her head at the same time as her knees buckle. “Sinéad…”
I can’t breathe.
The firm grip I have around her tightens, pinning her limp body against me.
I should look.
I can’t.
