Then I raise my gun and take aim.
The fact that I’ve never held or shot a gun before seems unimportant now. I’m so calm that it’s almost unsettling. But it’s also making me feel like I can do this.
I have a clean shot at Murtagh.
I only need to pull the trigger.
One bullet and he’ll be gone. Cillian will be a little safer and maybe, just maybe, that will buy us enough time to think of a way out of here.
I open both eyes and keep my finger poised over the trigger.
I take a deep breath.
Point. Aim. Shoot.
I can hear my own heartbeat. It pounds in my ears, making me conscious of the fact that I’m about to condemn another human being to death.
He’s a monster. He deserves to die.
But even I’m aware this is not about Brody Murtagh.
This is about me. And the lengths I’m willing to go to protect Cillian.
That’s all the answer I need. That’s all that I care about anymore.
I’m about to squeeze the trigger when Kian shifts his weight to the side. It creates a sort of domino effect that ends with Cillian taking a step to the left…
Blocking my line of sight to Murtagh.
Disappointment pools in my gut as I lower the gun.
The five seconds it took me to steel my resolve has cost me the kill shot.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fu—
“Saoirse.”
I gasp, whirl around, and freeze.
Before I can recover, the man who came up right behind me plucks the gun from my hand and switches the safety on.
I stare at him with my heart beating erratically.
I’ve never seen him before.
Dark hair. Dark eyes. Tall and broad-shouldered. Features that are dusky, dangerous, brooding.
He looks scary as fuck.
And yet, his eyes aren’t as threatening as the rest of him.
He’s looking at me as though he means me no harm, but I don’t believe that shit for a fucking second.
“How did you get in?” I whisper.