Page 164 of Manacled Hearts

“Cover me!” I leap out from behind the pillar, sprinting to the next one as bullets fly behind me, but I trust Ronan is taking the opportunity to shoot whoever’s aiming their guns at me.

The space has quieted more or less, guns are still fired, but there are enough bodies on the ground to know that there aren’t many of Bartiste’s men left. Apart from the bastards upstairs.

I have to get to her.

“You’re done, Bartiste! You’re not getting out of here alive!” I sneak a look and see movement behind some bulky machinery. “Come out, old man.”

On careful steps I move from behind the pillar and moments later, the bastard comes out into view too.

“Don’t worry now. No one here’s going to shoot you.” A grin pulls at my lips as I watch the forced expression on his features. “They all know you’re mine to kill.”

He’s trying to cover the fear with made up malice. From the corner of my eyes I spot our men out in the open, guns aimed in several directions—I guess some of the asshole’s men are still alive. But my focus is on their boss as more bullets fly and loud thumps hit the ground.

Hopefully those were the last of his men.

I lift my gun, aiming at Bartiste, but a flurry of gunshots split the silence. They’re muffled, distant. My breath catches in my lungs—they’re coming from upstairs. A heart-wrenching scream splits through the vastness of the space, and my heart stops.

Evelyn!

EVELYN

Pain and fury burst out of me in a bellow that bounces off these metal walls and echoes through my very soul. I took the last man down with the gun Jay threw at me, but not before he put a bullet through his chest. Tears spill freely down my cheeks, and my hand shakes as I brush my palm over Jay’s eyes, shutting them. Brinn, his brother, is probably here too. I’ll have to be the one to tell him. He died because of me, protecting me.

I wipe a bloody hand over my eyes, brushing the tears away.

“Don’t shoot, we’re with you.” Two men hold their hands up in the doorway. “Finn sent us to protect—”

But I don’t hear their words anymore, because others filter through from downstairs.

“Oh, shame. Waste of a good ass. Maybe I should have told them not to kill your bitch. Oops.”

Dread spills through my soul at that seedy, disgusting voice that brings terrible memories, but mixed with the poison tainting me already, it turns to rage.

A deep, pained roar reverberates through the whole factory, and I flinch.

“I will string you by your guts through this goddamn factory! It will take you fucking days to die, you goddamn son of a bitch!” Finnigan. Oh god, my Finnigan! The pain in his voice brings me straight to my feet. “She didn’t fucking deserve it!”

“But you do!” Bartiste shouts. “You killed my fucking son!”

I’m running before the thought touches my consciousness, pushing past the men standing by the door, clutching the gun as the metal platform vibrates with each footfall. My gaze finds Finn’s wide one as I rush down the steps, shock and relief mixed in his gorgeous blue eyes.

“Nooo!” Finnigan shouts as a loud pop echoes sharply.

Something whizzed past me, but I don’t stop even when the second pop sounds, and I slip the last three steps, jumping straight on the ground. I think the second shot came from Ronan who has his gun aimed somewhere behind me, but there’s no time to thank him.

“Look at that, the bitch is still alive.” The seedy voice still speaks, bile rising up my throat.

“This bitch is the one who killed your fucking son, you rapist bastard! I put a blade in his chest, slammed it over and over until he was close enough to death that I could see him try to reach for it and end his wasteful suffering. I watched him drown in his own blood, slow, painful, with a fucking smile on my face!” I rage at Bartiste, then shift my gaze to my gorgeous Finnigan who sprints toward me.

Ronan rushes toward Bartiste and knocks the gun out of his hand, pinning his arms at the back with a feral look on his face. He’s holding the man who kidnapped his pregnant wife all those years ago.

“Kill her! Kill her now!” The asshole bellows when he realizes just how fucked he is.

Finnigan stops next to me, grabs my hand as our gazes meet for a relieved moment, then looks over to Bartiste. Only, his eyes fly wide before they land on the bastard. Someone yells. My lungs seize with Finn’s coiling muscles. I catch the limping form moving out from behind some machinery, at the same time a boom of a discharged weapon sounds and Finn turns, stepping in front of me.

His brows draw together on a visceral shudder at the same moment his blood splatters all over me and I jerk. Searing rage drives me, the pain ripping through my shoulder not as strong as the one looking back at me from Finn’s beautiful gaze, and I step to the side and find the bastard who pulled the trigger before the others can take him away from me. A banshee shriek bounces off the metal walls as I empty the magazine in him, pain tearing through the sound-waves. With the soreness in my throat, I realize the scream was mine.

On unsteady feet, Finn turns around and steps forward, aiming his gun at the man who caused so much sorrow to so many people.

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