Page 66 of Ruthless Savior
My mom nods. The relief that floods through me is so intense it's almost painful. I didn't realize I was holding my breath until I released it in a long, shaky exhale.
"How bad was it?" I ask, my voice a shaky whisper.
"Bad enough," Danny says grimly. "But it could have been worse."
Alicia and I say our goodbyes, both of us hugging and fighting back tears, and her making me promise to call her as soon as I can. I’m grateful that she doesn’t pepper me with questions; after what happened, I think she understands better what’s going on. Several guards leave to escort her home, and then twenty minutes later, I hear vehicles pulling into the gravel drive. The door opens, and Ronan walks in. I jolt upright, my heart racing.
He looks like he's been through a war. His tuxedo is torn and bloody, there's a cut on his forehead, and his knuckles are scraped and raw. But he's alive, he's walking, and when his eyes find mine across the room, I see the same relief I'm feeling.
"Everyone okay?" he asks, his voice rougher than usual.
"We're fine," Danny reports. "No injuries, no complications."
Ronan nods, and then his attention focuses on me. "You're hurt," he says, crossing the room quickly.
I look down at myself, confused. My dress is ruined, and I have some scrapes on my arms from diving behind the altar that I cleaned up with a first-aid kit one of the men found while we were waiting, but nothing serious. "I'm okay," I tell him.
He leans down, his hand touching my face much like it did when he kissed me at the altar, and he examines me carefully. "You sure?"
"I'm sure." I reach up and touch the cut on his forehead. "You're the one who's hurt."
“It’s nothing.” He straightens abruptly. “Mrs. Murphy, are you alright?”
My mom nods. “I’m fine. But I have questions,” she says, her voice sharpening. “They can wait until the morning, though.” She gives me a sideways look, and I feel my cheeks heating. I haven’t forgotten that this is mine and Ronan’s wedding night. But after all of that, are we still going to…
I can’t imagine he’ll want to, after all of that. That he’ll have it in him. Maybe we’ll wait.
A more pressing question prods at me. "What happened?" I ask. "Who was it?"
His expression hardens. "De Luca's people. A unit of men with automatic weapons. They obviously chose to barge in during the kiss, probably hoping to catch everyone off guard."
That worked. I feel my stomach twist. "Are they...?"
"Dead," he says simply. "All of them."
I should feel something about that—horror, maybe, or guilt. But all I feel is relief that Ronan is safe. That I’m safe, and my mom is, too. That Ronan will be able to protect me still, instead of his father taking the reins.
"What about the others? Your family? The guests?"
"Tristan took a bullet in the shoulder, but he'll be fine. Simone—his wife—got to safety quickly enough that she was uninjured. Annie's got a few cuts from the glass, nothing serious. A couple of the other guests were injured, but no one else died." His jaw tightens. "This was a message. De Luca wanted to show that he could reach us anywhere, even in a church."
A cold shiver ripples down my spine. "So what happens now?"
Ronan's expression becomes unreadable. "Now we send a message back."
The safe house gradually empties out over the next hour. My mother is escorted upstairs to one of the bedrooms to rest, with Ida arriving to handle meals and promising to bring a hearty dinner up to her. Danny and Owen leave to handle various logistics. Eventually, it's just Finn, Ronan, and me left downstairs.
"I'll go out to check on the guard rotation,” Finn says. “Check in if you need anything, boss.” He gives Ronan a meaningful look, and nerves prickle my skin.
Ronan nods and then looks at me. "We should get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
I’m not sure what he means by that, but I nod and follow him upstairs to one of the bedrooms. It’s beautiful, large, and spacious with an antique four-poster bed, a gorgeously embroidered duvet and pillows, all in a rich cream, and matching dark-wood furnishings. The wood floor is cool against my feet as we walk inside, my heels in one hand, and I set them down by the door, my heart racing a million miles a minute as Ronan closes the door and it registers with me that I’m alone with him.
Alone… in a bedroom.Ourbedroom, for the night.
There’s a leather duffel bag by the dresser. “Ida packed some things for us,” Ronan says, before walking to where a bottle of whiskey and two crystal glasses have been placed on a side table. He pours himself two fingers and then looks at me; I shake my head. I’m not sure liquor is going to help anything right now, although maybe I should take him up on it. I’m already trembling inwardly, wondering what’s going to happen next.
Are we going to go through with this? Just go to sleep? What does Ronan expect from me? I stand there in my wedding dress, in the middle of the room, and I realize I’m going to need help getting out of it.
