Page 87 of The Celtic Resolution
BRUNO
What fresh hell is this?
Hot pain radiates across my chest and throbs in time to the sluggish beat of my heart. It feels like someone is sitting on my chest while digging their knuckles into my ribs as if trying to find some sort of secret buried there. I groan softly and shift to try and ease away from the sensation but it follows my movements.
How irritating.
Opening my eyes, a warm glow radiates from the lamp beside me, bathing the entire room in soft, golden light. The blinds on the windows are pulled closed and beside me, several machines beep in time to the rhythm of my heart.
Where am I?
What the hell happened?
The last thing I remember was… was… Shit. It’s cloudy in my mind. I blink slowly and focus on more things in the room. A vase of flowers sits on the table at the end of my bed next to a jug of water. There’s a book resting next to it. To my left is… Saoirse!
She lounges with her head down and her nose buried in a book, seemingly unaware that I’m awake and for a few quiet seconds, I’ll take that.
She looks… good. Healthy. Alive. That’s the most important thing because the last time I saw her was—shit, the lighthouse. My father shot me. Twice. I went down like a fucking sack of bricks and then Saoirse was over me begging me to stay with her.
Did I succeed? Is that why I’m still here?
Saoirse suddenly glances up from her book and when our eyes meet, she does a double-take and immediately abandons the book and rises. “Bruno!”
“Saoirse…”
“You’re awake! I was worried you were never going to wake up.” She moves to the side of my bed and perches on the edge while running her eyes over me. “How do you feel?”
“Uhm…” My dry throat closes up around my words. “K–kind of like a potato skin with all the flesh scooped out.”
Saoirse scoffs softly and reaches for the water. Pouring me a small cup, she adds a straw and scoots closer up the bed then offers it to me.
I can’t take my eyes off her as she eases the straw past my lips and the first rush of cool water washes down my throat. She looks… good. Dark circles shadow under her eyes, bruises are still healing and some wounds are still visible, but she looks much better. Alive and healthy. Her attention stays mostly on the glass until I finish drinking, then she sets it aside and sits.
“Better?”
“A little.” My voice is much smoother now. “What… what happened?”
“Do you remember getting shot?”
I nod.
“Before that, I know you told me to wait, but I couldn’t. I went to find Cian and I tried to get him out, but he was too weak.By the time I got outside, Domenico was there with Sarah and he was so angry. After you went down, I killed Domenico with Rocky’s gun. Overkill, some would say, but he deserved every single bullet I put in him. After you passed out, I thought you died… Cormac turned up with a fucking helicopter and a small army. I don’t remember much myself, though. I was taken to the hospital, and Cian was rescued from the stairwell and I had our baby.”
Ourbaby.
She said that before, I think. Maybe I dreamed it. Wishful thinking. It’s a lot to unpack so I start on what sticks first. “Are you okay? And the baby?”
“I’m fine. He’s doing really well. He’s strong despite everything.”
He.
A boy. A baby boy.
I have a son?
Immediately, I’m hit with a sharp fear that I’m set on a path to repeat the sins of my father. What kind of dad can I be when I had that bastard as a role model?
“He’s okay?” I whisper as warmth stings at my eyes. “Really?”
