Page 105 of The Thief
"You're wrong."
"Am I? Let me tell you something. Ava came to Dublin on my orders to gather intelligence on the Gallagher operation. Having Freddie fall for her was part of the job, nothing more."
"Bullshit."
"She reported back to me after every encounter. Told me how easy it was to manipulate him, how pathetically grateful he was for any scrap of affection. She used to laugh about it, about how the great Freddie Kinnock could be led around by his dick like any other man."
Each word is a knife twist, designed to hurt, to make me doubt everything I know about the man I love.
"Even if that's true," I say, "it doesn't matter. Because Freddie's moved on. He loves me now."
Trace laughs, the sound echoing off the concrete walls. "Does he? Or are you just another job to him? Another pretty girl he's protecting because someone pays him to?"
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I? How long have you known him, Alastríona? A week? Two weeks? And you think that's enough time to fall in love?"
I don't answer, but he sees something in my face that makes him smile.
"Ah. You're not sure, are you? Part of you wonders if he's just doing his job, if all those sweet words and gentle touches are just another performance."
"You're wrong."
"We'll find out soon enough. I've sent him an address, invited him to come collect you. If he really loves you, he'll come alone and walk into an obvious trap for the chance to save you."
"And if he doesn't come alone?"
"Then we'll know he's smarter than he is sentimental. Either way, he's going to watch you die before I put a bullet in his head."
The certainty in his voice makes my stomach clench. This isn't just about revenge anymore; it's about proving a point. About showing that love is weakness, that caring about people makes you vulnerable.
"He'll kill you," I say. "When Freddie gets here, he's going to tear you apart."
"Will he? One man against six? Even if he brings backup, even if he's as good as his reputation suggests, the odds aren't in his favor."
"You don't know him."
"I know men like him. Killers who think they've found something worth saving. They all make the same mistake—they let emotion override logic."
"And what mistake is that?"
"They think love conquers all." Trace stands, smoothing down his expensive suit. "It doesn't, of course. Love is just another weakness to exploit. Another pressure point to apply when you want someone to break."
He heads for the door but pauses at the threshold.
"Your boyfriend should be here within the hour. Try not to die before then. I want him to see what happens to people who take what belongs to me."
The door slams shut, leaving me alone with my pain and my fears and the growing certainty that Freddie's walking into a death trap.
But he'll come anyway. Because that's who he is; the kind of man who'd rather die fighting for someone he loves than live knowing he let them down.
The kind of man worth loving, even if it gets us both killed.
I close my eyes, testing the rope binding my good arm to the pipe. There's some give there—not much, but maybe enough. If I can work it loose, if I can get free before he arrives...
Dad's voice echoes in my memory: Never give up, mo stór. As long as you're breathing, you're fighting.
I'm still breathing. Still fighting.
