Page 40 of Destructive Truths

More than Rohan, too.

If she’s gonna make it through these trials unscathed, she needs us both. Together.

TWENTY-FOUR

ROHAN

The front door of my pool house rattles with an incessant pounding. I’m not in the fucking mood to be dealing with impatient cunts today. I’m still salty as hell after yesterday, and whoever the fuck is at my door can suck my giant cock.

The banging grows louder as I lean back on my couch, kick my heels onto the coffee table, and bring my joint to my lips. Breathing in, I feel the familiar burn stinging my lungs. My head falls against the backrest as I elongate my neck and stare up at the ceiling, billowing a cloud of smoke into the room.

“Rí, open the fucking door before I kick it off the hinges.” Devereux’s roar penetrates my ears, but I’d rather sit on a box of rusty nails than do anything prickface asks me.

Reaching forward, I pick up the smart TV remote and raise the volume on my open Spotify app. “All The Things I Hate About You” by Huddy blares through the surround sound as Liam’s persistent pounding reminds me why I’m sitting here, pissed as fuck at Saoirse. Sure, I pushed her into his arms, but there wasn’t much resistance. She went willingly, and that pisses me off more than anything else.

Liam’s rage drowns into the heavy beat, and I sit, enjoying my weed, wondering how long it will take for him to realise the door’s unlocked.

It turns out, not as long as I’d have liked. The door whooshes open with a violent crash, smashing into the wall behind it and knocking my coat off the rack.

Motherfucker just kicked my door open.

After muting the TV, I push myself from the couch and glare daggers at him. “What the fuck, Devereux? Was there a need to boot my door down? Next time, try the doorknob before Daniel LaRusso-ing your way into a room.”

Within an instant, he’s bounding over me and shoving me up against the wall. “When the fuck were you gonna tell me?”

Too high to give a fuck, I ask, “What crawled up your shaft and rotted?”

His forearm pins against my neck, adding way more force than fucking necessary. “Oh, I don’t know, Rohan.” He applies more pressure, cutting off the airflow to my brain. “How about how you talked me into your grand plan but forgot to fuckin’ mention a crucial detail.”

I raise my brow, seemingly unfazed by his roid rage. My fingers grasp his arm, and I pry it from my neck. “First off, what the fuck are you talking about? And secondly”—I step into him, square my shoulders, and invade his space—“next time you put your hands on me, I’ll lay you out. Deal or no fuckin’ deal.”

“Fuck you.” Liam pushes my chest, knocking me back a peg. “You’re so fucking wrapped up in the repercussions of your own decisions, and you’re forgetting I am doing you a favour here, not the other way around.”

“Get off it, D.” My elbow collides with his rib cage, giving me enough time to dig around him and switch our places. My hand flies forward, and I grip his neck, forcing him back against the wall. “Don’t act like you had nothing to gain from our arrangement. I handed you the fuckin’ keys to the kingdom. All you have to do is keep her safe. Fortunately for you, Donnacha’s been MIA since the day of Saoirse’s attack, giving you ample time to stick your dick somewhere it doesn’t belong.”

My grip tightens, and Liam’s face turns a deeper shade of red. His eyes bore into mine, delivering a warning I refuse to take. Next thing I know, the greasy fuck levels me in the jaw with his iron fist. Startled by the birds floating behind my eyes, I loosen my hold and stumble back a step.

“This is much bigger than Donnacha and your piece-of-shit father.” Liam grips the front of my shirt and lifts me off my feet. Toes dangling, I hover above the floor. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

My hands fly out, and, leveraging my upper body strength, I grip his extended arm with both hands and swing my hips forward, wrapping my legs around his waist. Liam is fast, but I’m faster. I knock him off balance, and we tumble to the ground, arms swinging, no mercy given. Using my position to my advantage, I straddle his waist and let my fists fly. Unfortunately, this fucker knows how bruised I am after the weekend, and he uses it to his advantage.

Things get out of hand. We roll around, knocking seven shades of shite into each other, wrecking the fucking place in the process. Finally, when I get him beneath me for a second time, Liam tucks himself into my chest, bringing his arms tight to his side. Before I know what’s happening, he swings his elbow upward, cracking me in the nose. Blood pisses from my nostril, and when I reach up to swipe at it, Liam shifts his hips to the left, tossing me off him like a bucking bronco.

Next thing I know, I’m flat on my back, staring at the ceiling. Manic laughter erupts from me as I cover my face with my forearms. A few moments pass before I drag my head off the floor and peer over at Liam. He’s got his sorry arse propped against the wall as his head drops to his knees. Finally, he lifts his gaze, and I see the defeat in his eyes for the first time in a long time. “Why didn’t you tell me Saoirse is Lorcan’s daughter?”

* * *

“Here.” I toss an unopened bag of peas at Liam, then drop into the armchair facing him, holding a bag of frozen potato wedges to my nose.

His grumbled response makes me want to ram the olive branch I just extended up his arse. Fortunately for him, I’m more concerned with how he figured out Lorcan is Saoirse’s dad than instigating round two. “How’d you find out?”

“She told me.” His eyes find mine, but it’s the smug smile gracing his lips that pisses me off the most.

Anger aside, nothing, and I do mean nothing, can stop how my heart sinks to the pit of my gut. If Saoirse did share that titbit of information with Liam, she must trust him more than I assumed. My fingers tighten on my makeshift ice pack, hating the way this revelation seats itself beneath my skin. I underestimated the connection they shared back when they were kids, because for her to trust so quickly after everything she’s been through… it’s the only thing that makes sense.

“What about you?” Liam questions. “When did she tell you?”

“She didn’t.” Shifting in my seat, I grab my metal cigarette case from the coffee table and pull out a smoke. After resting it between my lips, I grab the lighter and flick the flint, sparking a flame. Once I have it lit, I inhale, spreading nicotine through my lungs. I take my time, savouring the pull, before finally continuing. “Lorcan did.”

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