And God, does it feel fucking good when it connects.
Knuckle straight to jaw. A sickening crunch rings out. Brody bellows and flies back on top of the low brick wall that lines the edge of the rooftop.
I stride over to him, my fist ready for the second punch.
He looks up at me, mouth full of blood. Eyes brimming with hate.
He starts to say, “You motherfucki—”
I don’t hold back when my knuckles meet his jaw for the second time in as many seconds.
The only thing I don’t factor in is his position.
The momentum of my punch comes from low to high. Catches him right under the chin.
And that’s all it takes.
His eyes roll back in his head. His body twists over the brick wall. It hits him low in the knees.
Tips his center of balance over, over, over…
Then he’s gone.
Someone screams. I don’t even know who it is.
I run to the edge of the wall and look down.
Fuck.
It’s a five-story drop. Murtagh’s on the pavement. I can’t see blood from here—not yet, at least—but his limbs are twisted at grotesque angles.
“Oh, fuck.”
“What have you done?” one of his stooges roars. “You’ve killed him!”
“This will start an all-out war, you dumb motherfucker,” the other one grimaces.
Fuck. My heart is pounding.
They’re right. They’re both fucking right.
I turn from the balcony’s edge and go straight for Saoirse. I grab her arms and pull her to me.
“You have to go,” I tell her urgently. “Now.”
“Cillian,” she whispers, her eyes wide with panic. “I won’t leave you.”
“This is bad, Saoirse,” I say.
I promised I’d never lie to her. I won’t start now.
“I don’t want you to be here for what happens next. Go.”
“But—”
“NOW!”
She flinches away from me, but her eyes are still reluctant.
“Please,” I whisper. “For me.”
A teardrop squeezes out from the corner of her shimmering blue eye. She nods once, trembling from head to toe.
And then she turns to flee.
I stand there and watch her go.
I see her wild red hair disappear through the door.
As soon as she’s gone, the emptiness engulfs me.