Page 110 of The Apprentice
Sloan slid off his wool coat and suit jacket, then passed them to me with his gun, and I folded the clothing over my arm. The gun stayed in my hand. By the time I looked back, Sloan’s dress shirt sleeves were rolled up and he was as ready as Reyes.
Reyes’s gun and jacket were on the ground in front of the circle that the men had formed, and Fionn was closer to Reyes’s possessions than I was. He was also too far from me, but the spot at his side was already filled by Company men. There was no way I could get to him before the fight began.
“Ready to get your arse kicked?” Sloan asked with a lip curl.
Instead of answering, Reyes punched, and Sloan ducked and spun, his hands raised in front of him as his smirk widened. My heart jumped straight up into my throat. Sloan hadn’t been in a fight like this since he was young, and we were no spring chickens anymore. I didn’t like what was happening right now, but all I could do was watch.
“Is that what you call a punch, Reyes?”
Reyes’s nose scrunched as he sneered, moving on the balls of his feet. “I’m only getting started, Killough.”
Sloan shrugged, unfazed. “So am I. That’s why your cousin, Joaquin, is the next to die.”
I glanced toward Fionn, watching the way he focused on Sloan raptly. Despite still being buzzed, he was the apprentice, Sloan’s nephew in every way. He was ready to protect Sloan if needed. I wished I could be over beside him, but it was better this way. Our defensive positions meant we could cover more ground if it came to that.
I blinked and returned my focus to the fight. I’d missed some of the punches that had been thrown, but I caught the moment Sloan slammed his knuckles into Reyes’s gut, eliciting a cheer from our men. On one side of the circle, Fallon threw his arm up in the air with a “Good one, Boss!”
Reyes pressed a hand to his stomach and glared, but he kept his eyes on Sloan. The fight was violent, and they both moved with the kind of proficiency expected of men who’d spent their whole lives having people wanting to kill them. They were both sons of mob bosses.
Fionn’s concern filtered through as I looked at him, a wince on his face when Reyes landed a punch to Sloan’s jaw, blood splattering across the asphalt. Sloan returned the favor with a hit to Reyes’s cheek.
The bloodshed didn’t stop there. Each attack was vicious and full of hatred, and after a while their energy began to decline. Sloan had a split lip and Reyes’s head had a laceration on it. The vigor from the crowd quieted, some of the steam disappearing with every minute the fight went on.
I shifted my attention from Sloan to Fionn, caught between defending my boss and keeping an eye on my boy. He was my life, and I couldn’t imagine anything happening to him. I trustedthe Company men to protect him, too, but there was no one better than me to do it.
Fionn glanced at me and smiled, and as corny as it was, my heart skipped a beat. I couldn’t help but wink back in return, causing his grin to widen. I turned my attention away for a second, not long enough that something should’ve happened, but it did. From the corner of my eye, I caught a Reyes soldier going for Sloan’s back, ready to attack, but it was Fionn who intercepted him by grasping his shirt and yanking him back.
Pride swelled in my chest at his quick reflexes as Fionn pointed at the soldier.
“Don’t fucking cheat.” He rocked slightly but kept on his feet. This was my boy, the future of the Killough Company. Even drunk, he was on top of his game.
Everyone else kept their eyes on the fight, seemingly uninterested in the Reyes soldier and what he’d done, so when the soldier jumped toward Reyes’s gun beside his jacket, no one moved. I lunged forward, but it was too late. A shot rang out in the narrow alleyway, and the bullet ripped through Fionn’s chest, then another. Three times the soldier fired the gun, and three times Fionn’s body shuddered with the hit.
The fight stopped, but so did my world.
I was frozen, staring at Fionn as the blood drained from his cheeks. His gaze slowly slid to me. Eyes wide, he opened his mouth as he stumbled back a few paces before crumpling to the ground with a gurgling gasp that ripped through my very soul.
“Fionn!” I didn’t recognize my own voice, but everything after that was pure adrenaline and anger. I raised the Glock still in my hand—Sloan’s—pointed it at the soldier who’d shot Fionn, then pulled the trigger. The bullet went straight between his eyes and his head jerked back. He collapsed to the ground, body limp.
The world around me was an eerie quiet that drove an excruciating ache straight into my chest.
All at once, chaos hit.
Shots rang out. It was as though everyone had come to their senses, and whatever had slowed the world around us had hit Play again because it was speeding forward and gunshots echoed.
Rushing toward Fionn was like walking through water, my legs nothing but jelly. I couldn’t move fast enough, couldn’t get air into my lungs, but I made it and fell onto my knees beside him.
Then, Sloan was there, right beside me, sorrow in his eyes and twisting his mouth before the mask was back.
I used my hands to apply pressure to the wounds, desperate to stem the bleeding. Fionn couldn’t die. I wouldn’t let it happen.
Fionn stared up at me but didn’t understand, pain plastered across his handsome face. I wanted to comfort him, but my brain was buzzing, and any coherent thoughts were impossible. All I could see was blood, spreading and pooling across his chest, wet and getting worse, and everything inside me screamed.
“You’re going to be okay.” Sloan pressed a kiss to Fionn’s forehead.
Fionn let out a wretched sob. “Uncle Sloan, it hurts.”
I ducked my head to kiss his ear and murmured, “You’ll be fine, boy. We need you to be fine.” This was Eoin all over again. I wasn’t there when that horror happened—but now I was. I couldn’t do a damned thing. I was fucking useless. What kind of Daddy was I?
