Page 39 of The Devil's Price

"You dumb cunt, you won't get away. You won't ever get away. Don't you see that?"

I push at him, kicking and clawing, but he's heavier than me. And two more men dressed in dark suits appear over us as we wrestle on the ground. They've got guns. I'm outnumbered, and all I can do is scream for help and hope someone hears me.

28

FINN

Iwatch Siobhan as she disappears through the courthouse doors, a quiet joy settling in my chest. She’s carrying something so precious now, not just for me but for the life we’ve yet to build. I can hardly believe it. The weight of what she said hits me all at once—I’m going to be a father. It’s surreal, and for a moment, I almost can’t breathe.

A father. Me.

This isn’t a role I ever imagined for myself, especially in this harsh and unforgiving world. It wasn’t even a dream I dared to entertain. Too much violence, too many blood-soaked memories haunted my past for such thoughts. But now, in this moment, I feel a flicker of hope, a tiny spark igniting a vision of something better than the life I've always known. Siobhan, with her gentle strength and unwavering spirit, is carrying my child. Though she remains unaware of this profound truth, I am resolute in my vow to protect them both with every fiber of my being.

I envision the tender image of her cradling our baby, her arms gently wrapped around the tiny bundle of life, and then I see myself, holding them close. I can almost picture it clearly—her soft, melodic laughter resonating throughout our home, the gentle way she’d converse with our child, each word filled with love and warmth. I imagine myself watching them grow, witnessing each milestone with a heart full of pride. The scenes play out so vividly in my mind, yet a persistent, uneasy feeling twists in my gut.

The Doyles.

They won’t let her go easily. I know it.

I shake the thought away and focus on the joy, on what’s ahead, but that damn screech of tires rips me back to the present. The sound is deafening in my ears. I spin around, adrenaline flooding my veins. The sedan belongs to the Doyles. I've seen it before, the day those thugs beat the hell out of me. They were here? Of course they were. They have a stake in this game.

"Siobhan," I breathe, remembering she's inside that courthouse without me. I should never have let her out of my sight, not now.

I don't waste a second. My legs move before my mind has fully processed the danger. My hand slaps against the courthouse door, pushing through it. The flood of people leaving is now a mere trickle, most of the audience and jurors already gone the instant the drama ended. Mick isn't here. Ronan and Quinn took off too.

I'm alone as I sprint up the grand staircase to the second floor, where the lights have been dimmed to a soft, shadowy glow. The ornate banisters glisten faintly under the subdued lighting, and the air is thick with the scents of polished wood and old paper. A porter glides across the gleaming marble floor, pushing a dust mop, whistling a carefree tune that echoes gently through thecorridor. He seems oblivious to the tension that lingers in the air.

I burst into the courtroom, my heart pounding, the scene still vivid in my mind where moments ago we were in the throes of an intense battle against a corrupt judge.

Her briefcase lies there, forsaken, a mere few feet from where she had been seated for the proceedings. Her purse is nearby, its contents strewn across the ground, papers fluttering like autumn leaves caught in a breeze, forming a haphazard trail into the unknown.

My chest constricts painfully at the scene of disarray, the evidence of a struggle etched into the chaos. She was just here moments ago, her presence still palpable, and yet, inexplicably, she has slipped away from my grasp. How did I manage to lose her?

I feel the panic rising, a knot of fear that twists tighter with every step I take toward her things. This isn’t right. She wouldn’t just leave without a word. Something’s happened.

"Siobhan!" I call out, but my voice cracks under the weight of the terror in my chest. Turning, I race back into the hallway, past the man sweeping and down the stairs. My phone is already in my hand dialing my brother’s number.

I hit the dial button, my finger trembling, but I force myself to stay focused. The phone rings once, twice—then Ronan answers with a happy tone. We've just won the battle, but the war still rages.

"Finn, what is it?" he asks, celebratory cheers going up in the background. He must be with Mick.

"Siobhan's gone. She’s not here, Ronan. She—" I choke on my words, struggling to steady my breath. "I think they took her."

A moment of silence follows, heavy and suffocating, before Ronan speaks again, his voice sharp. "What the hell do you mean, ‘they took her’? How do you know?"

"Her things," I mutter, voice strained. "Her briefcase. It's scattered everywhere. Like she fought back… but I don’t know what happened, where she went." I’m halfway to the door now, the courthouse’s heavy wooden doors ahead, and my heart pounds like a war drum in my chest. “Ronan, it’s the Doyles. I’m sure of it.”

I hear him exhale sharply on the other end. "Stay calm, Finn. I’m on my way. I’ll gather some men?—"

“Mother of God,” I snap, not waiting for him to finish. “I need to find her now. They’re already ahead of me.” I slam my hand against the door as I burst outside.

I reach my car in a matter of seconds, heart pounding in my chest. The streets are quieter now, the hum of the city fading as I slam the door shut behind me. My hands shake, but I force them to steady as I fumble with the keys.

The engine roars to life as I turn the ignition, the sound loud in the silence of the night. My grip tightens on the wheel, knuckles white. My mind races with one thought.Siobhan.

I hit the gas hard, tires screeching against the pavement as I tear out of the parking lot. Time is slipping away, and I’m not going to lose her. Not like this. They'll kill her without hesitation. This is what they've been waiting for, and now that she's gotten Mick off, they have no reason to even want to keep her alive. She has evidence against Hagen. She's their worst nightmare.

I slam my foot harder on the gas, the engine growling as I speed down the street, ignoring the red lights that flash in my peripheral vision. The wheels screech in protest, but I’m relentless, focusing only on the path ahead.

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