Page 43 of Bound

“You look beautiful,” Rory shares as he helps me into the backseat of the Suburban. The three of them ensuremy fluffy dress is tuckedinto the car before shutting the door. Rory climbs into the driver’s seat and pulls to the gate before stopping to wait for the boys. When they approach behind us, he pushes the button to open the gate and merges into traffic.

Uncharacteristically, Rory makes casual small talk with me as we drive. While he’s still a little curt and rough around the edges, it’s nice. I also think I’ve learned more about him in the past fifteen minutes than I have in the months I’ve spent with him as my bodyguard.

“Shit!” Rory exclaims, his eyes darting between the rearview mirror and the road before us as he drastically decreases his speed. Craning my neck to look over the backseat, I see a garbage truck parkedinthe side of Conor and Finn’s crumpled SUV.

“Stop, Rory!” I gasp. “Conor and Finn!”

Instead of braking, Rory stomps on the gas. I watch the odometer climb as he weaves in and out of traffic.

“Rory!” I yell over the lump in my throat. “What if they’re hurt?”

“You know I can’t stop, miss,” he apologizes with his eyes fixed on the road before him. “I’m sure they’refi?—”

Rory’s wordsare cutshort when a pickup truck darts from an alleyway and slams into thedriver'sside of our SUV, causing my body tobounce around the backseat like a ragdoll. My headbangs against the window, and my vision goes hazy andbegins to blackenaround the edges.

“Quinn… Quinn!” Rory’s shouting of my name grows increasingly louder as he pulls at me from the front. “Come on, Quinn. Fucking wake up.”

Pushing myself from the seat, I grumble at the pain radiating through my scalp. I apply pressurein an attempt to alleviate the throbbing, only to wince when my palm presses against my wet, sticky hair.

“My leg is pinned,” Rory tries to hide his panic. “They’re coming for us. You need to go.”

My heart thumps painfully as panic races through me, only amplifying the pounding in my head. Shaking my head, I mutter, “No. I… I can’t.”

“Get out of the car, Quinn,” he orders. “I’ll slow them for as long as I can.”

“Rory…” I plead, both terrified to stay in the car and be outside of it with no one to protect me.

“Run,” he demands. “Run, and don’t fucking stop for anyone.”

Kicking off my heels, I push open the door and slide from the backseat. I run from the SUV and toward the nearest side street. The asphalt tears at the bottom of my feet, and the impact of every stride shoots through my skull.

A gunshot fires behind me. Then another. The loud pops reverberate off the surrounding buildings. There are so many deafening shots thatI can’t tell which are real and which are echoes. They fire in the distance for what seems like minutesbefore coming to an abruptstop,the silence alerting me to the shoes pounding against the pavement behind me.

I turn just in time to see a large man lunging at me. His arms wrap around me, and I scream as he violently pulls me from the ground.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

DECLAN

Conor, Finn, and Rory were leaving the house with Quinnno more thana few minutes after us. They should’ve been here at least twenty fucking minutes ago.

FatherO’Flahertyplaces his hand on my shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Are you sure she’s coming, son?”

Of course she’s fucking coming.

“Yes,” I insist. “My brothers are bringing her.”

The idea of Quinn having cold feet is so outlandish that it’s laughable. She’s wanted this for most of her life. There aren’t words to describe how excited she is—we are—about this day finally being here. It could be nothing more than an accident on the FDR, but my gut is telling me otherwise.

Something is wrong.

Stepping from the altar, I pull my phone from my pocket and call Finn. It rings a few times and goes to voicemail. When I call Conor, I’m met with the same unnerving result.

Something is definitely wrong.

“Try calling Finn again,” I huff at Liam as I pace anxiously between the flower adorned pews. “I’m going to try Rory.”

“Voicemail,” Liam informs me, moments before Rory’s phone diverts to voicemail as well.

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