He snorts derisively. “Ma used to say that to him when we were boys,” Cillian tells me. “‘You’re too hard on them, Ronan.’ He told her that we weren’t going to stay boys for long. We needed to get used to the real world.”
I feel a zip of sudden awareness block out the rest of Cillian’s sentence. “Ronan?” I repeat.
“What?” Cillian says, frowning at me.
“Your father’s name is Ronan?”
“Uh… yeah?”
Ronan and his bitch, too…
I grab Cillian’s arm as the memory resurfaces. “I heard Tristan say the name just after he locked me up in that cell,” I tell him urgently.
Cillian’s expression ripples with hope. “Did you hear anything else?”
“He mentioned that they were taken to… The Cavern, I think he said?”
I hope Cillian knows what that means, because I certainly don’t.
“The Cavern,” Cillian repeats, awestruck. “The fucking Cavern.”
“You know the place?”
“Yes,” he breathes, a smile lighting up his features. “Yes, I fucking do. It’s a secret police black site they use for interrogations and high-risk prisoners.”
He leaps to his feet. I do the same.
“Fucking hell, Saoirse,” he says. “You’re my good luck charm.”
He stares down at me, radiating with energy and strength that’s so contagious I can feel every molecule of my own body humming right along with him.
A crazy thought passes through my head. If he kissed me now, I wouldn’t be able to stop him. I’d have no choice but to kiss him right back.
For the briefest of moments as he beams at me, it’s like he’s thinking the same thing.
Like it might happen.
The kiss that could save us both or send us both straight to hell.
But whichever one of those things it is, I’m ready for it, because all that matters is him, us, this—
All that joy drains right out the moment Cillian starts walking away from me.
I abandon my sketchbook on the bench and run after him.
“Cillian! What are you gonna do?” I ask, suddenly nervous about where this information might lead him.
He doesn’t break stride for a single instant. “I’m going to go storm the fucking Cavern,” he tells me grimly. “We’re getting my parents back. Tonight.”
The fear that births in my gut is cold and nauseating. “Do you have enough men for that?”
“We’ll find out.”
“Cillian!”
I don’t even know why I call out his name. I have no question to ask. No parting words to give him.
I just want to prolong this moment, delay his departure. As long as he’s here, as long as he’s in front of me, he’s safe.