Page 83 of Dublin Devil

I strain against Billy’s hold, wrenching my arm, but it’s no use. His grip tightens, his nails digging painfully into my skin. Between my ribs, my raw wrists, and the way he’s handling me, pain sears me inside and out.

We stop at the edge of the warehouse property, close enough that the heat dries the tears on my cheeks and makes my skin feel tight and oversensitive.

I look back down the beach, my heart hammering against my battered ribcage. Is Sean still alive? I squint against the brightness of the fire, searching the darkness beyond the swirling smoke and flickering flames.

Movement ignites hope, but when I see who’s approaching, that hope is stomped out.

It’s not Sean—it’s my father.

His face is contorted with rage, his eyes burning not from the fire’s reflection, but from something consuming him—insanity maybe.

He’s been known as Mad Mattie for years, but seeing him now, I’d say he’s living up to his moniker.

“You ruined everything.” Spittle sprays over my face and he screams. “Look what you’ve done.”

“Me? I was locked in a room. This is on you, Da.”

His swing is fast, his backhand brutal. The force of the blow connecting with my face spins my head and knocks me to the ground. Blood runs hot from my nose, the sting of the hit mingling with the heat from the fire, overwhelming and suffocating.

I’m on my knees, disoriented, my ears ringing, when I see him draw back his hand again. I brace myself for another hit, closing my eyes against the imminent pain.

Gunshots ring out, startlingly loud and close.

I flinch, expecting pain, but when I open my eyes, it’s my father who falls. He collapses onto the sand, a startled look of confusion etched on his face.

Billy Gravely takes the next hit.

The force of the shot to his shoulder spins him. He staggers back, and the gun in his hand drops close to me.

I launch to get it, and when I raise it, he’s already on the run. I point and shoot, firing every round he has left in the magazine.

When the gun silences, I stay there, frozen. I can’t move. I can’t think. I can’t breathe.

Is it over? Will more of my father’s men come?

But no one comes.

The only sounds are my ragged breath, the roar of flames, and the crash of waves. I don’t know who fired those shots, whether it was one of Sean’s men, a disgruntled ally of my father, or someone else entirely.

But in this moment, I don’t care.

I glance down at my father lying in the sand and feel nothing but profound relief.

I can finally be free of him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Sean

My lungs are burning, each breath a raspy, painful struggle as I stagger down the beach toward Piper. Sand sticks to my sweat-drenched face, the coarse grains mixing with the salt of my sweat.

Each step is agony. My back screams with the damage from bullets hitting my vest, but none of that matters.

Piper is all that matters.

Gravely’s shots knocked the wind out of me, and for that haunting moment, while I laid face-down in the sand, half-conscious, I thought the worst.

I thought he’d close in and finish me.

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