Page 64 of The Celtic Resolution
Giving me anything else is likely too much of a risk because I would definitely find a way to use it as a weapon, either to end the life of whoever comes through the wooden door in front of me, or my own life to save me from this hell.
Alone, my thoughts suddenly become too loud. The pain my body’s in grows into a screaming siren at the back of my mind, mingling with the emotional grief of watching my twin get murdered right in front of me, and it all clashes with the sickening realization that I’ve just been sold and will likely never see daylight ever again.
All while secretly carrying this baby.
What have I done? How did I let this happen?
Tears flood my eyes in seconds and pressure swells beneath my ribcage, like all my emotions are taking up physical space inside me. I can’t breathe. It’s all too loud. I slap one hand over my mouth but it does nothing to muffle the agonizing sob that escapes me. Something about the silence of the cell creates an echo chamber of my own turbulent thoughts and pain, and there’s no escape.
I think I preferred it when they were drugging me to keep me docile.
Now it’s just me and overwhelming grief mingling with such intense guilt that it feels like my head is being crushed in a vice. More and more tears flood my eyes and pour down my cheeks. I’m too weak to stop them. My balance wavers but as I sag back against the wall, the door in front of me suddenly clunks with the sound of several locks being slid back. Then the door swings open and Bruno Del Prete walks in.
His cold, impassive expression lasts until the door swings shut behind him, then his brows pull together and his eyes widen. “Saoirse, Oh, my God!”
The sound of him saying my name after everything he’s done enrages me and despite the tears pouring down my cheeks, thesobs clawing at my throat and the agony radiating around my body, I throw myself forward with a scream of rage.
“Fuck you!” I scream, colliding him with all the force I can muster. Pain fades into nothing but static noise as I punch him as hard as I can manage, and slam my knee into his crotch. “Fuck you, you motherfucker. I’ll kill you, I’ll fucking kill you!”
“Saoirse, wait— please! Listen to me!” He grabs me by the shoulders and briefly holds me back. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, please just let me?—”
“No!” He doesn’t hold me back for long. Again I throw myself forward past his grip and attack with everything I have. I punch and kick, bite and claw everywhere and anywhere I can get my nails. I pull his hair and try to get my hands around his throat to squeeze the life out of him.
But he’s healthy. He’s in much better shape than I am and while he’s not fighting back, he’s making sure I don’t do much damage.
It only angers me further. White hot rage burns through me like wildfire and the renewed energy that courses through me allows me to throw myself at him over and over again. Every limb becomes a weapon, every part of me latches onto him, determined to hurt him even a fraction of how he hurt me.
“Saoirse, please I’m trying to help?—”
“Help!” I screech, punching him in the face again and again. “You’ve killed me, motherfucker. Ihateyou. I’m broken because of you. Everything is ruined and I’m taking you with me!”
I want to kill him. I’ve never wanted anything more than to watch the life fade from his eyes and that desire courses through me for several minutes.
But my weakness eventually catches up to me. Adrenaline wears off and exhaustion covers me like a fuzzy blanket. My head throbs and my last punch barely makes contact with Bruno as I overbalance and fall to the ground.
He catches me before my knees make contact with the stone and despite my struggles, he manages to drag me toward the mattress. Once there, I kick him off with the last of my strength and slump there, panting like I’ve just sprinted the length of a marathon.
“Saoirse.” His nose is bleeding heavily and I’ve left several scratches down his face and throat. It’s not enough, though.
It’s not nearly enough for what happened to Cian.
“Please, believe me when I say I did you a favor.”
Afavor? Is he fucking for real?
“Fuck you,” I spit while tiredness slurs my speech slightly.
“Isavedyou,” he hisses, his voice low. “I don’t know who’s listening so I can’t say—” He stops himself and presses his lips together, looking me up and down and then shaking his head. “Please. I’m going to fix this. I just need you to trust me.”
Trust.
How he can utter such a word is beyond me.
Through flooded eyes, I glare at him as a final broken sob bubbles up in my throat. “K-Kill me.”
“What?”
“Kill me,” I gasp. “You basically already have so get it over with!”
