Page 55 of Destructive Truths

When the feeling in my legs comes back, he pulls me up by wrapping his hand around my throat in a primal choke hold. Lowering his mouth to my ear, he whispers with a note of possession. “You want to explore your options, fine. I’m down. I’ll play along and give you what you want, but just remember, love”—his hand trails along my spine, then he wraps his hand around my hair, tugging my head back—“I told you once, and I’ll tell you again… We are not the beginning of this story. We are the end.”

THIRTY-TWO

SAOIRSE

I’d known this day was coming, but nothing—not even the extra hours I’d put in at the gym this past weekend—could have prepared me for the onslaught of emotions raging beneath my skin.

Tilting my chin, I look towards the old stone-peaked ceiling and summon a calming breath—not that it helps ease the anxiety grappling my lungs. A tendril of panic ropes around my spine, making the walls in this gloomy round tower feel like they’re caving in as I await my fate. With every pounding thud, my heart battles for space behind my rib cage, but the pressure to succeed presses down on me with gruelling force, robbing the air from my lungs.

It’s a moment of weakness.The only one I have allowed myself since Rohan pulled out of me on Friday night and walked out of Liam’s room without so much as a backward glance.

Closing my eyes, I push all thoughts of Rohan to the back of my mind, needing a clear headspace for my fight. I’ve spent enough time over the last forty-eight hours dissecting every interaction, every word, every regret. I need to focus my energy elsewhere—preferably somewhere far the fuck away from Rohan King.

“Fuck!” I release a strangled curse, and it bounces off the old stone walls, echoing around the hollow space. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes, you can,” Beibhinn reassures me as she secures my hands in cotton wraps. “Hannah Crowe has nothing on you. You are Saoirse fucking Ryan. And Killybegs belongs to you.” Summoning a deep breath, I exhale it slowly, releasing the tension coiling my shoulders. “Look at me.” Bev draws my gaze towards her icy depths. “Everyone down there underestimates you. But I’ve seen you train, Saoirse. You’ve got this in the bag. Don’t let your mind take it from you. Use your head, and your fists will follow.”

“You’re right.”

Tonight, I fight for my place in the syndicate.

Tonight, I take the first step towards reclaiming the Ryan throne.

“I always am.” She flashes me a smile, interrupting my internal pep talk. “Besides, you have me as your sponsor.”

Suddenly, the iron cell door creaks open, flooding the room with a rusty squeal. “Actually”— my head whips towards a familiar voice—“if my daughter wouldn’t mind, I’d love to escort her into the ring.”

I haven’t seen my mam since I left the cabins, and other than a rare text here and there, we haven’t spoken. “Oh my God!” I bound across the room, and my arms wrap around her waist before I pull back and take her in. She’s dressed to kill, clad in high-waisted leather trousers, a black bandage tube top, and sky-high red heels. She’s pulled her hair back into a sleek high pony, showcasing her smoky eyes and blood-red lips, and she looks every bit the badass I strive to be. “What are you doing here?” Shock ripples through my core. “I thought you couldn’t be in Killybegs. It’s too dangerous.”

“Let’s just say there have been some developments.”

My brow furrows. “What do you mean developments?”

Her eyes soften and a slight smile tugs at her lips as she raises her hand and brushes one of my braids over my shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ve handled it. There was no way I was going to miss your first trial.” She pulls me closer, wrapping me up in protective arms. Issues aside, I’m glad she’s here. After our talk at the cabins, I saw her side of things a lot clearer, and although I disagree with how she handled it all, I understand she thought it was for the best.

“Now, if you girls are ready”—she peers over my head at Bev before dropping her gaze back on me—“we’ve got a syndicate to impress. What do you say, Saor? Want to let your mam lead you into battle?”

“Mam, you can’t.” Disappoint washes over me in a crushing wave. “Gabriel is Hannah’s sponsor. He’ll be in the ring, too.”

The wicked glint in her eye fuels the adrenaline seeping through the cracks in my armour like molten lava, giving me a second wind. “And that’s precisely why I should. The mind is a fighter’s fortress, Saoirse. Get inside it, and it’s game over. What do you say? Wanna cause a little havoc?”

Bev crosses the room with a squeal, clapping her hands in delight before throwing an arm around my mam’s shoulder. “Hate to break up with you like this, Saoirse, but Mama Éanna is my new best friend. I’m always down for a little havoc.”

* * *

White noise infiltrates my eardrums as I stay hidden behind the old ruins while Oliver Devereux introduces Hannah to the large octagon that sits in the centre of the courtyard, drawing the attention of every watchful eye.

My eyes flick between the free-standing flood-lights illuminating the walls of Kill Castle to the blurry faces of the rowdy crowd gathered in the stands. My heart rattles against my chest, but I force my fear down, refusing to feed it. Anticipation slithers up my spine, but I shake my hands out, hoping to ease the pent-up energy it brings.

“Ladies, gents, and people otherwise identified… it’s the moment you’re all waiting for.” Oliver Devereux draws the microphone to his mouth. “Please give a syndicate welcome to Miss Saoirse Ryan. The last remaining Ryan heir.”

The crowd erupts, drowning out the sound of my heart pumping in my eardrums.

“Shit! that’s a lot of people.”

“The syndicate spans the length, breadth, and width of the country. People from all over came to see the remaining Ryan heir in action.” My mam’s hand clips my chin, tilting my gaze towards hers. “Some will cheer you on, others will pray you fail, but none of that matters. Do you want to know why?”

I nod, holding her gaze.

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