Page 49 of Cruel Devil

It looks a million times better on him than it ever could on Savage’s cousin.

“I delivered my end,” Patrick says. “I need your word you won’t be contacting me or my son again. We’re out.”

“You really thought it would be this easy?”

My heart gives a painful thump in my chest at his unspoken threat. I know his words are meant for both of us.

“We had a deal!” Patrick roars.

I can’t look away from Sullivan and his eerie smile, but I have excellent peripheral vision. Patrick appears for one brief second, surging forward as if he’s intent on doing bodily harm to O’Brien…which I’m sure he might have done, if he’d gotten close. But Sullivan’s uniformed soldiers stop him before he even reaches Donny’s puddle of blood.

I watch, stock still and silent as I try to get a grip on my reeling thoughts.

Sullivan must have been pissed off when I didn’t kill Bryan. Maybe he even thought I’d become a turncoat, shacking up with the cartel. He must have taken my sisters as punishment when he couldn’t lay his hands on me.

Liam said the mob had been looking for me. But I’d been a moving target—either holed up in Savage’s villa, or trying to escape said Domingo. Did the Brennan’s have an arrangement with O’Brien? Maybe they’d be rewarded if one of them turned me in.

But the only Brennan who knew I’d be at The Foundry tonight, was Liam. Maybe he was lying about not being able to reach his father. All it would have taken was a single phone call to Patrick once I’d left his apartment.

It would explain why Patrick was here in the first place.

Was that what all of this was about? Patrick struck a deal—the Gray’s lives for the Brennan’s? A cold shock goes through me as the pieces slot into place.

Fuck. I can’t even blame Patrick. If the roles had been reversed, I’d have done the same.

Family comes first.

Patrick is still struggling when I make eye contact with him.

“You betrayed us,” I murmur.

Patrick looks away, jaw clenching.

“You know, what? I’ve had a change of heart.” Sullivan holds his arms out wide like a benevolent leader. “Congratulations, Pat. After all these years of begging and pleading, I’m letting you out of the mob.”

Patrick’s shoulders rise and fall as he takes in one big breath after the other, like he’s preparing himself.

“Your son, however…”

“No.” Patrick’s voice belongs to a broken man. “Mr. O’Brien, please. Please.”

“I never said anything about letting Liam go.”

Patrick sags as if his legs have given in, but he doesn’t show relief or happiness. Brennan obviously figured out what was coming before I did, because the only thing on his face when he forces himself to stand again, tall and proud, is resignation.

Sullivan had the gun concealed in a holster so well fitted that I didn’t see it under his suit.

Dark metal gleams as Sullivan aims, his arm barely registering the recoil when he squeezes the trigger.

Bang!

I’m frozen, staring at the scene like I’m watching a horror movie. Sullivan walks closer, and pulls the trigger again.

Bang!

The muzzle follows what’s left of Patrick’s skull every time the force of the blow moves it around on his limp neck.

Bang, bang, bang!

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