Page 1 of The Celtic Resolution
1
SAOIRSE
Ouch.
Everything aches. Pressing one palm down onto the cold, damp stone floor, I try to roll over but pain lances up my elbow like a threading needle, followed by a pulse of weakness that forces me to sink back down.
Bad idea.
But lying here isn’t doing me any favors and it isn’t going to save me. I can’t just lie here and wait for them to come for me. I’m better than that. I should be better than that.
But I’m here. Wherever here is.
Beaten. Broken. Tossed aside like yesterday's garbage andbetrayedby a man I was stupid enough to fall in love with. It’s all my fault. Everything is all my fault.
Closing my eyes doesn’t bring me any comfort. There’s no safety in the darkness. Every image that flits past my eyelids between the pulsing red veins highlighted by my thumping, racing heart, is only of Cian. The look of terror in his eyes as blood spurted from his throat, the twist of pain across his lips and the sudden cold look of understanding that this was it. The end.
Losing a sibling is hard. I still feel the loss of Brendan as if it happened last week. But losing Cian, my twin? That’s a pain so deep I can’t even acknowledge it and yet it sits like a weight beneath my ribs, waiting for the right moment to surge up and consume me. The only thing keeping it at bay, keeping all my pain at bay, is the last tendril of strength that wavers in my heart.
I don’t want to die here. I need to get out.
I need to tell someone what happened to Cian and what will happen to me and my baby, but even as the order surges through my mind like a prayer, my body doesn’t listen. Where exhaustion and pain make me weak, the drugs they’ve pumped into my body does the rest of the work for them. My mind screams in a body that’s shut down, incapable of anything but the slowest of movements, and anything too extreme results in waves of exhaustion and nausea.
I’m going to die here. My baby is going to die here. Cian and I will just become names lost to time, just two more Mafia scumbags swallowed by war. The only thing that pains me more than knowing Cian is dead and I am next is that Cormac will never know what happened to us.
Fuck.
Move! Please just move! Just lift one fucking arm, please!
My mind screams within its cage while I lie here with heavy limbs that can’t understand. Frustration builds and hot tears prickle behind my eyelids. I’m better than this. I’ve trained my entire life to be better than this, taken more classes than I can count and worked my fingers to the bone to turn my body into a weapon. I’ve spentdecadesmaking sure I’m strong enough, only to be defeated by the one thing I never saw coming.
Love.
The tears fall because I don’t have the strength to stop them. They roll slowly down my cold cheeks and soak into the dampness that clings to the stones beneath me.
I pray it’s over quickly.
The loud, frantic beats of my heart slowly melt into the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the door to my cell. Using every bit of strength I have left, I force myself back up onto my injured elbow and barely bite back a yelp as every other deep bruise and laceration across my body screams in protest. Moving saves me from pain.
But pain reminds me I’m still alive.
I might be facing my end, but I’m not going to go quietly.
The footsteps stop right outside the wooden door and a heavy lock clunks as it’s hauled backward. The door swings open, bathing me in a bright white light that burns my pupils and forces my eyes closed to protect myself.
“Bring her,” barks a nasally voice. Footsteps flood my cell, and fear prickles at the back of my neck. Every mental muscle tenses, ready for a fight, but my body doesn’t get the memo, so there’s no resistance when strong, rough hands grab my upper arms and haul me upward. The sudden change in state causes my stomach to lurch, and I gag while saliva floods my mouth. I’m hauled forward, but each time I try to open my eyes, the blinding light forces me back into darkness.
Come on, Saoirse. You’re better than this!
Nothing listens to me. It’s a wonder I can put one foot in front of the other as I’m half-dragged from my cell. A shadow falls over my face, so I cautiously crack open one eye to see a tall, lanky man with a patchy beard glaring down at me. As soon as our eyes meet, his thin, spindly fingers latch onto my jaw and jerk my head one way, then the other. He sucks on his teeth and grunts.
“So much trouble for such a little girl,” he says in that waspish, nasally tone.
It makes my skin crawl and I try to jerk my head out of his grip. I move too slowly, though, and his thin lips stretch into a wicked, amused smile.
“Still got a bit of fight in you, hmm? That won’t last long.” He shoves my head to the side and releases me. “Take her upstairs. They’re ready for her.”
As soon as he steps away, the blinding light is back so my eyes snap shut while a pulsing ache radiates through my skull. The drugs they’ve pumped into me regularly ever since I ended up here are doing God knows what to my system. I can’t fathom what they might be doing to my baby. As if there’s any chance we survive this.
