Page 70 of Sanctuary

Mia moved to stand beside me, her hand finding mine in the darkness. We watched as Kat bent over Rory, whispering into his ear, her tears falling onto his face.

“Stay with me,” she pleaded. “Don’t you dare leave me, Rory Hennessey. Not now. Not like this. I love you too damn much for you to leave me like this.”

His eyelids fluttered, and his lips moved slightly. Kat leaned closer, straining to hear his whispered words.

“What did he say?” Declan asked, his voice thick with emotion.

“He said...” Kat looked up, her eyes shining with tears. “He said ‘Tell them I fought hard.’”

Declan made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “You did, brother. Better than any of us.”

The sirens grew louder, emergency lights painting the night in flashes of red and blue as vehicles approached through the estate gates. Within seconds, paramedics swarmed across the lawn, their efficient movements a stark contrast to our shell-shocked stillness.

I watched as they took over Rory’s care, their voices clipped and professional as they assessed his injuries. One turned to us, asking questions I could barely process—how long ago was he shot, blood type, allergies—while others worked to stabilize him for transport.

“Multiple GSWs to the chest,” a paramedic called out. “BP dropping, we need to move now!”

As they loaded him onto a stretcher, Kat never left his side. Her hand clutching his as if she could physically anchor him to this world through sheer force of will. As they rushed him toward the waiting ambulance, Declan struggled to his feet.

“I’m going with him,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument despite his own injuries.

“Sir, you need medical attention yourself,” a paramedic objected, eyeing the blood still seeping from his head wound.

“I’ll be fine,” Declan insisted. “That man is family.”

The paramedic hesitated, then nodded. “There’s room for one more in the ambulance.”

Declan turned to Wren, his expression softening as he touched her cheek. “Go with Kat. She needs you now.”

Wren nodded, tears streaming down her face. “What about you?”

“I’ll follow in the second ambulance,” he promised, kissing her quickly. “Go.”

As Wren hurried after the stretcher, Declan’s legs finally gave out. I caught him before he hit the ground, lowering him gently to the grass.

“Another stretcher here!” I called, waving urgently to the second team of paramedics who were approaching.

Mia knelt beside us, her trained eyes assessing Declan’s condition. “Possible concussion, internal bleeding, lacerations, and smoke inhalation,” she reported to the paramedics as they reached us. “He was pinned under a heavy bookshelf.”

They nodded, taking over with practiced efficiency. As they prepared Declan for transport, he gripped my arm with surprising strength.

“Connor,” he said, his voice fading as pain and exhaustion took their toll. “The book... Dad's black book...”

“Don’t worry about that now,” I urged, squeezing his hand. “Just focus on getting better.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “It’s safe. I moved it... to the place where we caught fireflies as kids. Remember?”

The old oak tree growing tall amongst the weeping willows that edged the pond. The only one on the whole estate. The hollow where we’d hidden our childhood treasures. I nodded, understanding.

“I’ll get it,” I promised as the paramedics rushed him into the second ambulance.

Mia’s expression turned grave. Both of us knew that Rory likely wasn’t going to make it.

Chapter 33

Connor

As they pulled away, sirens blaring, the sound of wood cracking ricocheted off the barn.

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