Page 9 of Destructive Truths

“I know Rohan. His job was to keep you safe. He wouldn’t have left you behind.”

His job. Six letters, yet they cut through me with a razor-sharp edge. Was that all I was to him? Some worthless assignment, a syndicate order he needed to follow? Jesus, Saoirse. How could you be so naïve?

Ignoring the acceleration in my chest, I scan Lorcan’s features and note the tight-knit lines woven across his brow line. “What are you hiding?”

“There were signs of a struggle—bloodstains and shattered glass on the concrete next to the driver’s door. Whoever took him knew what they were doing. Rohan is made of tough stuff; he wouldn’t have gone down without a fight. Unless—” Lorcan falls silent, and the surrounding air thins.

“What, Lorcan? Unless what?” Panic coats my rushed words, leaving me airy and breathless. Me. “Unless he was protecting me.”

At that realisation, Lorcan shifts and his eyes dart around the property, searching for any sign of a threat. “We need to leave. Now!”

There is no arguing with his command. His fingertips curl around my arm as he tugs me towards the castle’s back door. Once inside, he barks an order at Aodhán to gather my belongings before he rushes us to the safe Rohan showed me earlier this morning.

“Where are we going?” I stand rigid as he stashes guns and ammo into a large black duffel bag.

Ignoring my question, he closes the safe and pulls me out the main entrance towards a sleek black Mercedes.

Forcing myself to a halt, I rip my forearm from his grip. “I’m not leaving until you tell me where you’re taking me.”

“Christ, you’re just like your mother,” he groans as a heavy, frustrated breath rushes from his nostrils.

“It’s all there, Boss Man,” Aodhán interrupts, holding out my school bag. “That’s everything she left in the Devereux lodge.”

“I’m standing right here.”

“Get in the car, doll.”

“Tell me where you’re taking me or I’m staying put.”

Lorcan’s focus shifts between Aodhán and me. Finally, he settles his attention on me. “Where the sun kisses the horizon, and the tree-line shadows the sky. Two hidden hideouts, where pretty—”

“Free birds fly,” I finish. The old sonnet from our campfire days knocks the wind from my chest. A distant memory I had forgotten. Free birds. That’s why Liam’s nickname sounded so familiar.

“She’s waiting.” That’s the last thing he says before opening the passenger door and gesturing for me to get in.

It takes me a second to realise he doesn’t want Aodhán to know where we’re going, but luckily, I understand the meaning behind his hidden message. He’s taking me to the cabins, where my mam is waiting.

SIX

ROHAN

I remain rooted in the driveway, watching as my mother tosses the last of her and my sister’s belongings into the back of her Range Rover. I want to go with them, to escape the hell I call home, but I can’t.

He’d never allow it.

Squeezing down on the smaller hand clenched in my palm, I turn my gaze to Aoibheann’s innocent face. Even though she’s only eleven months younger than me, her head barely reaches my shoulder. We’re nothing alike. While I got my dad’s dark features, Aoibheann is all light; a golden ray of sunshine, just like our mother.

“Hey.” I draw her gaze to mine and almost break at the sight. A river of tears streams down her puffed cheeks. “It’s going to be okay.” The lie falls past my lips, leaving a bitter taste on my tongue. “I’ll come to visit. I promise you.”

Her baby blues sear into my soul. “I don’t want to leave you behind, Rí. Why can’t you come with us?”

Before I can feed Aoibheann another tale, my mother lowers herself in front of me. Her lavender scent fills my nose, and her soft hands clutch either side of my face. Then, with her gentle touch, she guides my face towards hers and places a long, lingering kiss on my forehead. She pulls back slightly, and I peer into her bloodshot eyes. She doesn’t know I heard her, but she has spent most of this week in her room, crying, battling with herself about leaving me behind, alone and exposed to the devil’s hand. She has no choice, and I’m aware of that. Gabriel King would never let her leave with his male heir. He’d kill her if she even tried.

“I’m so, so sorry, mo rí beag.” I both loved and hated when she called me her little king. “I wish I could take you with me.”

My palms cover her hands as I give her a slight nod. “Don’t worry, Mam. I’ll be okay.” My words are supposed to reassure her, but even I know they hold very little conviction.

A lone tear slips from her eye, slowly gliding over her cheek until it finally settles at the edge of her lip. “Ná lig do dhorchadas d’athar do sholas a ghditheroid. Tá grá agam duit, Rohan.” Don’t let your father’s darkness steal your light. I love you, Rohan.

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