Page 67 of Ruthless Reign

Because of him.

The address Aodhán gave me stuck in my memory from the moment he told it to me even if consciously I didn’t think I would ever need it. The house was nothing more than a squat single story red brick building with a brown roof and a yellowed front lawn. Nondescript. In the light of early dawn it hardly looked like someone lived in it.

But I knew he was inside. His car was parked in the lean-to, the ANRCHST license plate clearly visible.

I gripped the wheel tight, taking a long, slow breath.

If Aodhán didn’t want to see me get hurt, then why do this?

Because he’s a liar.

I checked my phone for another update from Damien with shaking fingers. I was running on 7-Eleven coffee and rage and not much else, and it was starting to show.

There were no new messages on my phone. Hardin’s cell went straight to voicemail no matter how many times I called and texted after he hung up on me, so I had no choice but to reach out to Damien. He explained what happened. Told me the bullet just missed Kaleb’s heart. That he might live. But he was dead for a full minute before they could revive him.

I thanked every god and goddess in this bleak universe that Aodhán was a terrible fucking shot.

Damien asked if I was on my way, but I got the feeling I wasn’t welcome. I didn’t know what Hardin would do if he saw me. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to get the sound of his voice out of my head. The betrayal in it. The hurt.

All because of him.

And my fucking naivety.

My ridiculous rationalization.

My mercy.

But there was something I could do to make it right.

For Kaleb.

It was almost too easy to find Aodhán’s house, like I already knew where it was.

I swallowed hard, looking at the gun on the passenger seat and the tire iron beside it. The gun would be too quick. I wanted this to hurt. I needed him to hurt as much as he hurt me.

I wanted him dead, but my chest ached at the thought. Whether his father ordered him to shoot or not shouldn’t have mattered.

It didn’t matter.

And I shouldn’t have cared that he tried to save me after Gilligan’s Finch.

I don’t care.

For Kaleb. This was for Kaleb. But I wouldn’t kill him. I wasn’t sure I even could, but his life belonged to the St. Vincents.

Excuses.

I shook my head.

You’re so weak.

No. It should be Kaleb or Hardin or even Damien who got the honor pulling that trigger. Not me.

So fucking weak.

I growled through my teeth, stuffing the gun back into my purse. My pulse pounded in my ears as I ran my fingertips over the cool metal of the tire iron.

“Hey, Siri,” I said, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears. “Call 9-1-1.”

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