Page 108 of The Lies We Tell
Others follow. I read the names on their leather cuts. Switch comes in first, and I’m glad to see him move into action. The trays of medical supplies are slid into place by a tall, jacked man with the patchHalo.
“How ... many?” Saint’s voice is ragged. His breathing in between each word is harsh.
“Ten envelopes, nine beatings,” Clutch says.
Saint smiles softly, then looks up at me. “It’s going to ... be ... okay.”
I feel a little faint at the sight of all the blood. “How could you do this to him?” I ask Spark.
“No one in this room did this,” Spark replies. “But it’s an old-school MC punishment. A club vote that extracts vengeance and dishes forgiveness. Now it’s done. Over. The club won’t pursue any further repercussions.”
Now my head really does feel woozy. Saint took this so we can get on with the rest of our lives. It’s too big a sacrifice to comprehend, but he did that for us.
“What can I do to help?” I ask.
Spark squeezes my hand. “Just be here for him.”
Switch inserts an IV into Ryker’s arm. “It’s pain relief,” he says, as if sensing my concern. “And a heavy-duty sedative. The less of what happens next he feels, the better it will be for all of us.”
“I love you, Rose,” he says as he floats under.
“I love you too,” I whisper at his temple before kissing his forehead gently.
I don’t let go of his hand. Not when Clutch and Spark move him so Switch can clean up his back and stitch him up. Not when they clean out and sew up the initials carved onto his stomach. Not when they are finally done, and Saint is still sleeping.
Cillian brings me a cup of milky tea. “Here, this will help. I put sugar in it.”
I’m really not in the mood for sweetened hot tea, but I don’t have the energy or will to fight the Irishman. It goes down surprisingly easily. “Thank you.”
Iris steps forward and places her hand on Saint’s forehead. “I owe him my life. I know the others were there that night. But the rest of it—I needed to be able to tell the police. He gave me the ability to do that without incriminating anyone else in this room. He deserved better than this.”
Spark steps next to her. “I did the best I could, little chick. It was this or ...”
He doesn’t say the rest of it. He doesn’t need to.
She looks up at him. “I don’t doubt it.”
Halo has his back to the wall, one foot resting against it. “Good to see you on your feet, Irish,” he says.
Iris smiles. “Good to be on them. Thanks to all of you. Sorry I haven’t been up to company.”
“Conas atá tú?” Cillian asks me.
“Táim ag fanacht le haghaidh an saol daor,” I reply. It’s true. I really am holding on for dear life. I have anger and nowhere to place it. I feel sick from what was done. I don’t know what to make of all the people in this room.
“Holy shit,” Clutch says. “Don’t tell me we haveanotherIrish?”
I shake my head. “My grandfather, my pop, was Irish. He wanted me to speak the language.”
“I feel like we should invoke a no-Irish clause,” Halo says with a grin. “Feels like you’re scheming.”
I smile. I can’t help it. “Yes. What I actually said was ‘You shoot the big one, and I’ll take the medic.’”
Cillian chuckles. “More of the Irish in her than not, I say.”
And I remain by Saint’s side as people come and go. As Saint moves upstairs to Spark’s spare room. As he gets better day by day.
I leave the room at one point so he can tell Cillian who the rat is in his organization, a decision I’ve already made my peace with. With the clues he’s able to provide, Cillian has a very strong clue who it is.
