Page 82 of Dublin Devil

Sean tightens his grip on my hand, a silent promise that he’s here, that he won’t let them take me.

But facing the men who see me as nothing more than a pawn in their power games, I realize how quickly that could change.

Vladmir and Arkady embody the chains I’ve been fighting to break all my life, and now, on the precipice of freedom, they threaten to drag me back.

Arkady aims his weapon, his intent clear in the set of his jaw and the lethal calm in his eyes.

Sean raises his hand. “Not a good idea, gentlemen. If you call your boss, Anton will tell you to let us leave without conflict. A deal has been struck. We’re not your enemy.”

Is that true, or is he bluffing?

I can hardly comprehend how Sean orchestrated a deal with Anton Volkov. My gaze flits between Arkady and Vladmir, gauging their reaction.

With a grunt that sounds more like a growl, Arkady pulls out his phone and dials. The conversation in rapid Russian slices through the tense silence, his voice terse. After a brief exchange, he hands the phone to Vladmir.

Vladmir’s conversation is clipped, his tone betraying a flicker of surprise and annoyance. When he ends the call, his eyes pin me with a glare that chills. “Fine. You go. You not my innocent bride, anyway. Filthy whore.”

Sean’s muscles tense beside me, and I squeeze his hand. Before he loses his composure and escalates the situation, I tug at his arm. “Let’s go. Please, Sean. Take me home.”

Something in my plea breaks through his anger because he nods to Brendan and then pulls me into motion.

We make our way toward the edge of the harbor, my bare feet sinking in the sand. The darkness of the bay beckons. Safety is almost within our reach.

“Get the boat started, Brenny.”

Brendan races ahead of us, wading into the water to where two boats are bobbing in wait.

Bang. Bang.

Sean’s body jerks with the impact of gunfire, and his hand tears from my hold. He face-plants into the sand and doesn’t move.

“Sean!” Panic seizes me as I drop to my knees beside him. “Sean.”

Before I can roll him over to assess the full scope of horror, I’m hauled backward and thrown to the ground.

I twist around, rising to my feet to face Billy Gravely. His eyes burn with madness as he reclaims a vicious grip on me and pulls me away from Sean’s body.

The world spins as I’m dragged along the waterfront, further away from Sean and my chance at freedom.

“You’re a fucking menace,” Billy grumbles more to himself than to me. “Do you realize the fucking damage you’ve done? First by pissing off the Russians, then by taking up with the Quinns?”

His questions are rhetorical and with Sean shot and likely bleeding to death, I don’t have the energy to answer them even if they weren’t.

I’m lost in the anguish of losing Sean, the chill of salty spray and shock working in harmony to make me shiver.

Until a roaring heat hums over my skin.

I glance up the beach as we approach the remnants of what used to be three of my father’s warehouses.

Flames lick the night sky, the structures reduced to fiery skeletons. The sharp, acrid smell of burning wood and melted plastic assaults my senses.

The distant explosions I heard when I was tied up in that room make sense now. The Dublin Devils weren’t just here to rescue me—they were also attacking my father’s empire.

Good. I hope his losses are unrecoverable.

As we get closer, the heat from the fires becomes almost unbearable. The light from the flames casts eerie shadows across Billy’s face, making him look more monstrously unhinged. He’s muttering under his breath, his words lost in the crackle and hiss of the inferno.

My father’s legacy is going up in smoke, and a part of me feels vindicated. He brought this upon himself with his endless greed and his cold disregard for anything other than power.

---