And I freeze.
“Yeah… just checked with my source,” Tristan says, a smile teetering across his still-wet lips. “Cillian O’Sullivan is heading for Dublin Airport. He’s trying to get out of the country.”
“No,” I gasp. “No!”
“Yes. Okay. I’ll meet you there.”
The moment Tristan hangs up, I fly at him, my fists hammering against his body with fury.
“How could you!?” I yell. “You promised me!”
He grabs my arms and twists them back. “The only thing I promised you was to keep you safe. To protect you,” he tells me. “And that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m keeping you safe from that fucker.”
“No,” I sob. “You’re a fucking monster. You—”
His open palm rails against the side of my face, snapping my neck to the side.
I stumble backwards, half-shocked and half-dizzy from the strength of the slap.
“You’re right about one thing,” Tristan snarls at me. “I will be your personal fucking monster. Unless you learn to fucking obey.”
He grabs my face again and leans in. He bites down on my lower lip until I feel the skin split open. Then he steps away as the metallic taste of blood coats my tongue.
“Time to go catch a runaway,” he croons.
A second later, I hear the door slam.
The sound feels so final. Like an axe being brought down on my head.
My knees give out almost immediately and I crumple to the floor. I lose myself to despair and hopelessness.
“Cillian,” I sob to the empty, lifeless room. “Cillian, you can make it out of here. You can do it. You have to.”
I don’t even know who I’m talking to.
Am I talking to Cillian?
Am I talking to a higher power?
Or maybe, like always, I’m just talking to myself.