“If you send her out to me now, maybe I’ll spare her life when we’ve finished slaughtering your men,” Tristan says. “Otherwise, it’s going to be a slow and painful death for my little whore. You, on the other hand, are a lost cause, I’m afraid.”
I can see the anger flit across Cillian’s eyes, but on the surface, he looks calm.
“Don’t worry, though,” Tristan continues. “I’ll keep you alive long enough to watch her die.”
“I’ve always heard you were a gentleman,” Cillian calls down. “But you’re really outdoing yourself here.”
“Quit fucking bantering and come fight me like a man.”
I grab Cillian’s arm. “Please don’t go out there,” I beg.
“Saoirse…” Cillian sighs in a tone that tells me he’s already made up his mind.
“No! He’ll kill you.”
I see a flicker of anger in his eyes. “Do you really think I can’t take him?”
“Of course not,” I snap. “But he’s got so many men…”
“I’m not going out there alone, Saoirse. I have my men.”
“You’ll be exposed.”
“So are they.”
“I don’t give a fuck about them,” I snarl.
He smiles and brushes my cheek with the back of his hand. “If we don’t engage with them, they’ll force us to. Better to take them on our own terms.”
“Cillian—”
“There are civilians in here, Saoirse,” he reminds me. “Mary and Matilda and the kitchen staff and the rest. And you. We can’t let them breach the walls. If they do, every one of you is at risk. We’ve got to take the fight out there.”
I shake my head, but before I can say a word, Tristan interrupts.
“If you think you can wait us out, you’re wrong,” Tristan yells. “We came prepared. We’ve got enough explosives to turn this ugly castle into a pile of fucking rubble. I’m gonna give you until the count of ten. And then we’re gonna start detonating.”
My hands ball into fists as anger replaces the fear.
I’ve given him so much power over the years. But maybe I need to look at him objectively, through the eyes of a stronger woman. A woman who’s trying her damndest to be brave.
I step closer to the window and notice Tristan’s eyes narrow as he catches sight of me, stalling his countdown for the time being.
He’s just a man.
An ordinary man.
And he bleeds, same as they all do.
My fingers grip the gun in my hand a little tighter, and in that moment, a part of me truly believes I’ll be able to pull the trigger if I were standing right in front of him now.
“Is that my whore of a wife I see?” Tristan bellows.
Before Cillian can answer, I push myself all the way into the window frame and stare down at the courtyard.
Cillian tenses immediately, his hand reaching out in an attempt to either shield me or pull me back.
Then he stops himself abruptly, and drops his hand.