Page 104 of Killaney Blood
Footsteps approach from the shadows to our left. I swing my gun toward the sound, finger tightening on the trigger.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't shoot me after I just saved your ass," a familiar voice calls out.
Callum steps into the light, flanked by at least ten men, all armed and alert. They walk past us, checking the men they'd just shot.
I lower my weapon slowly, disbelief washing over me. "Callum, what the hell are you doing here?"
His expression doesn't change as his eyes sweep over the bodies, then back to me. "I was in the neighborhood."
"I don't—" I pause. "How did you know?" I ask, still holding Lyra protectively behind me.
Callum steps closer, his men spreading out from the bodies to secure the perimeter. Two check Nathan and George, but the grim shakes of their heads confirm what I already knew.
"Well, I started putting it together when our routes started getting hit with those feathers," Callum says. "And then when you got ambushed in the alley, I thought maybe there was a chance it wasn't the Albanians reacting to you for what you did, or to get her." He nods toward Lyra. "I figured it was all connected," Callum continues, "and I was worried they weregunning for you first, whoever the fuck they are, so I had you tailed. Just in case."
Relief crashes through me like a wave. I've been carrying this alone, convinced I could handle it, protect everyone without burdening my brother further. Yet here he is, one step ahead of me all along.
I step forward and pull Callum into a tight hug, something we rarely do. "Thanks, bro. I have some stuff to share with you. I was trying to take care of it, not burden you, but it seems you were already at work."
"I know you were," Callum says. "But you don't have to take everything on yourself, Dec. You've got family. We're here for each other."
I swallow hard, nodding. "Yeah, I just… you know."
"Yeah, I know," he says and pats me on the shoulder.
His gaze shifts over my shoulder, eyes narrowing slightly. "She alright?" he asks.
I turn to look at Lyra and feel my heart stop. There's blood on her hands, smeared across her like war paint.
"Lyra!" I yell, rushing to her side. "Where are you hit?"
She looks down at herself, as if just noticing the blood. "I'm fine. I think a bullet grazed my thigh or something, I don't know. I didn't feel anything."
I drop to my knees, hands frantically searching for the source of the bleeding, but it's dark and I can't see well.
"You're definitely bleeding," I say.
Callum steps closer. "Take her home. I'll call Dr. Miller. He'll send someone."
"I'm okay," Lyra insists, though her face has gone pale. "It's probably. I’m fine. Really."
"No," I say firmly. "We're going. Now."
I start toward the car, then stop and turn back to Callum.
"Follow us."
He nods. "Was planning on it."
I get Lyra into the car, and I slide into the driver's seat, my hands leaving bloody prints on the steering wheel.
"You'll be okay," I tell her, starting the engine. "I promise."
She nods, but her eyes are distant, fixed on something I can't see. "Declan," she says as I pull away from the curb. "Those men. Who were they, and why were they going to kill us both?"
"I don't know yet, but they didn't," I say firmly. "And they never will."
I glance in the rearview mirror. Callum's sleek black Escalade follows close behind, a convoy of protection. For the first time since this nightmare began, I feel relief.
