Page 51 of Twisted Obsession

Meanwhile, Callum has his gun trained on the man I love, while Ciaran pushes him into the back seat of the vehicle. Then Callum grabs my arm, depositing me none too gently in the front seat, eliciting a low growl from Dominic, which earns him an elbow in the gut from Ciaran. I don’t dare turn around, but I will him not to encourage any more of their ire.

Callum jumps into the driver’s seat and tears away in a squeal of tires and the stench of burned rubber. The tension in the car is suffocating as we speed through the city streets. I can hear Dominic's labored breathing from the backseat. I'm desperate to turn around, to check on him, to offer some comfort. But Callum's iron grip on the steering wheel and the murderous look in his eyes keep me frozen in place.

Fear, sharp and toxic, writhes in my gut, the bitter taste coating my tongue, making me want to gag as I struggle to swallow. The deafening roar of my own heartbeat, the pounding of bloodrushing in my ears drowns out every other sound. I can feel it as a tightness in my chest, the way my heart races and my hands shake. It's like a physical weight, pressing down on me and making it hard to breathe, and I can only hope I don’t pass out or vomit. I need to be one hundred percent in the present if I have any hope of saving Dominic.

Callum pulls up in front of the Ár n-áit compound in a spray of gravel, jolting to a stop, and my brothers waste no time dragging Dominic from the car. “Go to your room and stay there,” Callum orders.

Incensed beyond measure, I spin around and turn on him. “Excuse me?” I say, jutting out my hip and jamming my fist on it. “You do not get to make demands and tell me what to do.”

“So help me god, Roisin, just do as you’re told for once in your life, or I’ll…”

“Or you’ll what?” I ask, narrowing my eyes and getting in his face.

“Or I’ll goddamn spank you myself,” he snarls, his nose almost touching mine.

“Yeah? You and whose army?” I demand, refusing to back down.

“Quit it, you two,” Ciaran grates out, walking Dominic around the side of the building, towards an entrance way that leads to the basement. Callum takes one last look at me, his angry eyes trying to get in the last word, and follows.

I’m surprised they’ve brought Dominic here. The twins decided long ago to do the wet work elsewhere, far away from where we live. They’re both well aware of the nightmares I used to haveas a child when my father was still in charge and the sounds of torture and despair would ring out through the vent system.

Is that why they’ve done it? So I can hear everything they’re doing to Dominic?

Fifteen minutes later, in the sanctuary of my room, I wonder the same thing again. The muffled sounds of shouting and thuds filter up through the air vents, each one making me flinch. I pace back and forth, my mind racing with possible scenarios, each one worse than the last. What are they doing to him down there? How can I stop this?

I strain to make out words, but it's all just a jumble of angry voices and occasional cries of pain that I know are coming from Dominic. My tears are like a river, flooding my face as I struggle to think of a way out of this nightmare. My stomach churns and I have to swallow hard to keep from being sick. But the thought–the sound of his pain–is too much. Diving into the bathroom, I bring up the meager contents of my stomach and continue vomiting until there’s nothing but bile and dry retching. And yet still the aching nausea swims in my system, refusing to let up. So much so, I start to feel lightheaded. Surely this can’t be normal.

My vision grays at the edges and my stomach cramps painfully. I clutch my abdomen, a different kind of fear encompassing me. I can’t lose my baby as well as Dominic. No matter the chaos it’s caused, I already love this child more than anything in this world. I love my brothers too, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive them for killing the man I love.

My head spins and I blindly reach for my phone, searching the cold tiles with my fingers as I try to remain conscious.

What the fuck is this? Concussion? A miscarriage?

It’s like a wave of fire, burning bright and consuming all logical thought, leaving behind nothing but ash and charred remnants. It’s raw and primal, a beast lurking in the shadows of my mind, waiting to pounce and overpower all reason and logic. Thriving on my uncertainties, its presence is suffocating, a dead weight on my chest, choking the life out of me and causing my limbs to tremble uncontrollably. Fear is what’s in control here, its grip tightening with each passing moment.

My fingers close around my phone and with shaking fingers I somehow manage to engage the speed dial.

Terrible sounds from the basement burrow into my brain, taking up residence there and tormenting me, until I force them out of my lungs with my own tortured scream.

“Roisin?… Roisin? Talk to me. What’s going on? Are you okay? Where are you?”

The panicked sound of Emylyah’s voice anchors me for a short moment of lucidity. “Lyah… help!” That’s all I manage before the black maw of darkness swallows me whole and I welcome the peace.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

DOMINIC

I’m living on borrowed time. I always knew this day would come. I’m just surprised it’s not been done already, but I guess the Maguires want their pound of flesh. The basement air is thick with the smell of mildew and the metallic taint of blood. My wrists burn where zip ties dig into my skin, my arms wrenched behind my back, placing even more pressure on the gunshot wound in my shoulder, just like they undoubtedly planned.

I try to focus on my surroundings, the men in front of me, the physical pain.

Anything other than what's coming.

I’ve never feared death, it’s a given in this life. One you come to accept.

But why now, when I have so much to live for? When I’ve met a truly amazing woman who I can imagine a future with. One who’s carrying my child. A child I already love.

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