Page 11 of Líadan's Code

My best friend never locks her door. Her father won’t allow her to, and no one would typically dare to tread here.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

The word thumps through my mind as I pick the lock quickly. I always have pins with me, though I never imagined I’d be using them here. I usually scale up the side of the house so I can crawl in her bedroom window, but I needed confirmation that Mr. O’Brien was lying to me.

Shoving open the door, I stand upright as I storm into her room, putting my picks away in my back pocket.

“Lía?” I whisper, closing the door behind me.

Whimpers have me finding her curled up in a corner, facing the wall.

“Baby?” I ask softly, turning on the light.

“Don’t!” she screams, but it’s too late. My knees fail to hold my weight as I drop down beside her.

Lía’s curled into a ball, but I can see bruises, cuts, and a brand on her left buttock. There’s dried blood on the backs of her thighs that make me think the worst, and I curse myself for leaving her alone here.

“Fuck,” I grunt, carefully picking her up into my lap. Her eyes are dry, but there are hand prints all over her neck, and her mouth is red and swollen. “There’s my brave girl.”

“Hardly brave,” she spits out. “I couldn’t stop them. Brendan…”

I can only imagine what happened to her, and there’s blood getting on my shirt and pants as she sits there, but I don’t care. She’s alive. I can help her put back the pieces, they just may look different than before.

“So you become scarier and tougher, milseán,” I tell her, pushing back her blood-streaked hair. “You become the monster they’ll never see coming.”

“I think that’s why Daddy did this,” she says, eyes tortured and pupils blown in pain. “What if I lose who I am?”

“Lose it,” I growl. “I promise to love every form of who you are. Put what you know into practice, become the psychopath, I’ll follow you into Hell if it means you don’t fucking give up.”

Her breaths are slow and difficult to hear as she inhales, and I can tell whoever did this broke her ribs again. I’ll clean her up and stay with her tonight.

Tomorrow? I’ll help her burn the world down slowly and painfully. We’ll play the long game since they tried to take her from me. And one day we’ll find all of our enemies dead and rotting at our feet. And they'll never fucking see us coming.

“I’m never going to be the same again,” she whispers, her pain obvious in her tone as I gather her up to stand.

Swallowing hard, I nod as I walk slowly to the bathroom.

“I’ll help you heal,” I rasp. “Things may never be the same after this, and that’s okay. You're a goddamn survivor. You hear me? Fuck, I shouldn’t have left tonight.”

“It wouldn’t have changed a thing,” she rasps. Lía sounds as if she’s smoked several packs of cigarettes, making me wince in sympathy.

Turning on the light, I stand her in front of me carefully. She’s completely naked, her soul shattered as she gazes up at me. I swear right then and there I’ll put her back together with super glue and my love. I don’t care what that ends up looking like, Líadan cannot let this moment break her forever.

Filling a glass with water, I carefully give her a few sips.

“I’m here now,” I say, more for me than anyone else. “I’m going to clean you up, bandage your ribs, and stay with you tonight. Your father can go fuck himself with a rusty pole, I will not leave again. I’m moving in.”

Lía merely shrugs as she nods. I’m surprised she accepts this easily as I turn on the shower.

“My worst nightmares didn’t even scratch the surface of what was done tonight,” she says as I lead her into the shower. All I pull off are my weapons and boots before climbing in with her.

She doesn’t need to get the wrong idea. I don’t want to scare her.

Slowly, lovingly, I clean every cut, wash her body and hair, and cut my own heart out as I see the blood between her legs. Lía hides her face behind her hair as I wash her off, but I won’t let her hide from me.

“Milseán,” I rumble as I stand in front of her. My hair is wet, my clothes drenched, but my attention is all on her.

“They ruined me,” she says, her voice trembling. Still, her eyes are dry as she peeks up at me. Seán O’Brien trained his daughter never to cry, so she doesn’t. She’s breaking inside, though it’s difficult to see.

---