Seamus grabs a small explosive, then tosses it.
It hits the ground and fails to do a damn thing. I let out a shaky breath, ignoring the building panic inside.
He shoves more things around, and every move he makes is like nails on chalkboard down my spine.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He grins. “Looking for boom, sweet thing. This isshitewithout the setup. But… oh fuck, yes.”
Seamus pulls out an array of bottles.
“Is that…?”
“Nitro. Don’t believe everything you see in movies.” Another bullet flies and he shoots back, the exchange quick and furious. Then silence slams down, louder than the gunshots. “They’re reloading. Back there, behind us, is a door. We have to run for it, got it?”
“They know where we are. They’ve got the advantage.”
“No way. I’ve got the advantage now. Ready?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. He picks up the bottle and then stands, hurling it as far as he can. Seamus aims. A bullet almost hits him, and I swallow my scream.
The room rocks as an explosion lights everything up, and sound slams into me like I just ran face-first into a brick wall.
Seamus grabs me by the arm and runs.
I try to aim, but his manic flight doesn’t give me any bit of balance. He forces me to keep low, and we make our way out of the carnage of flame and debris and into darkness. “This way.”
It doesn’t take long for the gunfire to rip open the air.
Bullets chase us and Seamus careens us into doors and walls in the darkness, the scattered pieces of broken furniture a hazardous maze beneath my feet.
I can’t see and stumble, but Seamus holds me close, hauling me with him, down into a room. Light streams in through a window, the paper covering it in tatters. “Watch your face.”
He slams his gun into it, shattering the glass and knocking it out of the pane. Then he pulls off his jacket, throws it over the ledge, and pushes me to the window. “Go. Run, and don’t look back. There’s a bar two blocks east. Go there.”
“But—”
“Go.”
And then he does something I don’t expect. He hauls me to him and kisses me hard, fast, deep. My head spins as he pulls away and gives me a shove.
“Always wanted to do that. Go.”
He takes off out the door we just came through and pulls it shut.
I do what he says and climb out, hitting the ground hard. I wince as my hands and knees scrape against the jagged concrete, but I stagger to my feet. And then… for the first time, I listen to his commands, and I run.
My nerves are beyond frayed. They’ve turned into slivered shards of glass, designed to slice into me with every breath, every movement.
I should have stayed. Fought with him.
“Fought who, Ava?” I mutter. Because I never even saw them.
I sip the well whiskey. I had some cash in these old jeans, a whole twenty, so I need to make the drink last.
The thing is, I know why I followed him. I wanted to know why he was at my apartment. I wanted to know what he was up to. The fact that he thought the alarm would keep me in is idiotic. Of course I watched him punch it in. I memorized the code.
And no one was home at the brownstone. Or maybe they were in bed. I don’t know and I don’t care. Not about his family or the pets. I don’t care about anyone other than my little sister and my legacy.