Saoirse
I will myself to breathe as I weigh the odds in my head.
Cillian stands there with seven men at his back.
Seven tired men, some of whom have sustained injuries in the last fight.
And now Tristan has a small army in support as the jeeps grind to a halt, dust rising around them in swirling columns.
How many men in total?
Twenty? Thirty?
Oh God… This can’t be how it ends.
Kian stands up and turns to me. He’s resigned to what comes next. Determined to stare it down.
“I’ve got to go out there, Saoirse.”
I shake my head, but he cuts me off before I can even speak. “Cillian is gonna need every man,” he tells me. “I’m not leaving him out there alone.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No,” he says firmly. “I’m sorry, Saoirse. You don’t have the experience. And you don’t want Cillian distracted, either. Please stay. Do what you can from here.”
He walks down the short staircase. I’m impressed how quickly he manages it. I know his leg must be killing him, but he gives no indication that it does.
The two men on the opposite window join Kian at the main doors. Just before he disappears through it, the youngest O’Sullivan brother looks up at me.
“Saoirse,” he says, “you’ve got to save yourself. That’s what Cillian would want. There’s a back entrance into the castle through the kitchens. Go there and get the fuck away from this place as quickly as possible.”
“Kian—”
“Do it for Cillian,” he interrupts.
And then he’s gone.
I stand there, trying to come to terms with the decision he’s just handed to me. Do I stay or do I run?
My feet feel like they’ve fused with the stone under my feet. I can’t hear anything from the courtyard, but I know it’s only a matter of time before the gunfire starts up again.
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to shut down the conflict raging in my head.
Is it even possible for me to leave?
Can I live with that choice?
I turn slowly to the window and stare at the massive group of Kinahan men amassing around Tristan. He’s bleeding badly, soaking his shirt in crimson.
He limps back slowly, taking cover between the fresh crop of reinforcements that have just arrived.
A part of me—the part that’s not completely terrified for Cillian—feels a twinge of satisfaction to see him try to back away from the thick of the oncoming fight.
He was and is a coward.
His strength, his power, his control... It was all imagined. All a farce that he constructed when I was young enough to believe I had no choice other than the devil’s deal he offered me.
The Kinahan men form a long line in front of Cillian. A shiver runs through me at the sight of them. They look like a firing squad.