Chapter 19Fiona
One year earlier
My head’s bowed down, as I walk with purpose. My heels clink on the pavement, my dress shimmering in the moonlight. You dress fancy for Grads, the last formal dance before you graduate. Sheena and I spent weeks finding the perfect dress and shoes, delighting in this rite of passage, and I felt like a princess when I left. My only regret was that Lachlan hadn’t seen me. I hoped maybe if he did and got a glance at the plunging neckline and high heels, I maybe wouldn’t look like a child to him.
My mates left the dance before I did, each one paired with a bloke. It wasn’t supposed to be that way. We agreed to meet as singles, and tonight would be about us. We wouldn’t let boys come in the way, but celebrate how far we’ve come.
First, Siobhan was asked to dance, then Anne, then Aisling. And every fucking one of them left with said “dance partner.” I left in a huff when I was the last one dancing, and I was so angry, I took off much earlier than I’d planned.
I told my guard to leave me, though I don’t really think they have. And I walk the vacant streets of Ballyhock centre, after leaving the dance, alone.
I feel like Cinderella after her carriage turns back into a pumpkin. I’m not really a princess. Right now, alone and bereft, I’m just a girl in borrowed clothes now that the magic has vanished.
Ahead of me’s a group of men, smoking weed and cracking dirty jokes. I pause for a moment and look over my shoulder at my guard. They’re a few blocks away, giving me the distance I demanded, but they’re there. I cross the street, but it’s too late.
“Well, would you look at who decided to pay us a visit, boys?”
They’re following me. I can feel them drawing nearer, right on my heels.
“Fuck off,” I say over my shoulder, but it’s the wrong thing to say. I’ve only pissed them off.
One grabs me by the elbow and spins me around. He’s younger than my brother but older than I am, his face contorted into anger. But I’ve got a temper, too.
“I said fuck off,” I repeat. I shove the heel of my palm against his chest and he actually stumbles back and falls, but my momentary relief quickly fades. One of his mates grabs the back of my head, and I scream.
“Let go!” I scream. “Let go!”
Seconds later, he’s torn from me, and the men around me scatter, screaming.
“Fucking McCarthy!” one shouts. “Jesus!”
I’m stumbling and shaken, when I see Lachlan lifting the man who grabbed me right off the ground and throwing him onto the pavement. I’ve never seen him like this, so riddled with rage he’s shaking, barely recognizable. Gone are his playful eyes, gone is the teasing smile. He’s a cold-blooded killer.
My assailant gets up from the ground, clutching at his rib cage, but Lachlan sweeps his feet and makes him fall again. I scream as Lachlan attacks, landing vicious punches and blows until the man is crying and begging for mercy. Lachlan holds him by the front of his t-shirt and pulls his face straight to his.
“Don’t you ever fucking touch her again,” he growls. “And tell every one of your mates this woman belongs to me. If you breathe her air, I will hunt you down. If you speak to her, I will cut out your tongue. And if you ever touch her again, I will end you.”
The man runs, and Lachlan watches, until we’re left alone. He wipes a hand across his brow, and wipes blood from his fists. His brows knit together, and his voice is pained. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he says. “Y’alright, sweet girl? Did they hurt you?”“Lachlan!” I scream, until my voice is hoarse and it hurts to breathe. It feels as if someone’s squeezing my chest, adrenaline coursing through me with every step that I take. “Lachlan!” I can’t see him. Where is he? There are people screaming and crying, fire to my left and sirens sounding in the distance.
Rubble surrounds us, smoke billowing like a warning, and I realize with a flare of terror that flames are billowing out from the car. It could blow at any minute. Is he inside? I have to get out of here. If I don’t, I could get hurt or worse, and I know it, but I can’t. If I leave without him, I’ll leave a part of my very soul.
“Lachlan.” My voice catches as hope begins to dwindle. I don’t bother to check the tears that course down my cheeks, mixing with soot and ash. Sirens sound in the distance but my heartbeat’s louder.
Slam.
Slam.
Slam.
If he’s gone… no, I can’t think of such a thing. I can’t. It’s a reality that won’t exist. Not now. Not ever.