Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“Careful, Caroline,” he warns.
But I ignore him. “That’s all you do. That’s what you taught your sons to do too. Shane was a violent monster. Redmond was a self-righteous asshole. Dermot was so in his own world he couldn’t even imagine anyone else hurting. And don’t get me started on Malachy.”
“Go ahead, get started,” Mal says, still aiming the gun at Finn’s head. “I’d happily blow your husband’s brains out.”
“I see you both. I see all of you. You’re animals. You’re insects. You hurt other people and don’t care about it. You hurt me, my whole life—”
“You fucking deserved it!” Dad’s roar is a shock. I twitch back on pure instinct as he comes around the desk. He throws the bottle against the wall and it shatters, whiskey spraying all over. “You stupid, selfish little cunt. God, I wish I drowned you when you were a baby. I wanted to, did you know that? You screamed and cried so much I told your mother to just put a pillow over your face until you shut the fuck up. What’s the use of a daughter anyway? And now looking back, I was right.”
“That’s always been your problem, right, Dad? You’re just too weak.”
His fist snaps back. There’s a second, dangling in the air, where I think he won’t do it. But then he slams it forward and smashes his fist into my face.
My chin jerks up and my head cracks back. I groan as lights flash in my vision. The pain hits me like a wave and I taste blood where I bit my lower lip.
Finn roars in anger. A gun goes off. I scream, throwing my hands up, reaching for my husband—
But the world tips sideways.
The noise is incredible. It’s so loud my eardrums nearly break. The windows shatter inward and books fly off the shelves. I’m thrown off my chair and to the floor, hitting hard against my shoulder, rolling to a stop against the desk. The house is shaking, lurching, and there’s another blast like a door slamming shut. More paper scatters all over.
Finn’s got my father by the throat, but a third blast makes both of them topple over. Malachy’s screaming something, and I realize he’s scrambling around madly for his gun, searching through the mess on the floor. I sit up, dizzy and confused—
And spot the pistol a few feet away.
I stare at it. Mal finds it the same moment I do.
We both lunge.
I’m closer, but he’s faster. I scream, reaching out, and his shoulder bashes into my face. I grunt, knocked sideways, as I wrap my fingers around the grip. He has my wrist though and I can’t get my finger on the trigger. I kick and thrash as Mal twists, sending agony down to my elbow. The gun clatters to the floor and I try to punch Mal in the back, but it’s like hitting sand, for all the good it does.
I cry out, but I can barely hear. Mal twists, the gun coming up, a manic gleam in his eyes, so sure that he won, and I knew it would end like this, one of my brothers finally finishing what they’ve so gleefully enjoyed all my life, except Mal suddenly slumps sideways as Finn smashes into him and stabs a shard of glass deep into his neck right above the collarbone.
The gun goes off. I curl to the floor, covering myself. Finn keeps stabbing, over and over, as Mal struggles against him. There’s so much blood. I crawl sideways, looking around wildly. The office door is open and Dad’s gone. Finn keeps slamming his hand down, again and again, until the glass shard finally breaks. Mal’s not moving and Finn’s drenched in blood as he slowly pushes himself to his feet.
Mal’s throat and face is a pulp of slices and exposed skin. The gun is lying nearby.
Finn reaches a hand out to me. It’s cut deeply from where he was gripping the glass. I look at my husband’s face and he’s smiling now. The real Finn shines through, glorious and beautiful, and I take his bloody palm in my own. He pulls me to my feet and slams his lips against my mouth, tasting my bloody lip and clearly not caring. I kiss him back wildly, arms wrapped around his neck, my oldest brother’s corpse at our feet.
It’s stupid. I’m aware that we’re not safe. Those explosions came from the front of the house, which means someone else is here, and Dad’s missing. I should probably do something about all that.
But kissing Finn is a priority right about now.
“I thought I was dead,” I say, gasping for breath. Finn’s mouth is smeared with my blood. He licks it, grinning wildly. “What the hell was that explosion?”
“My brothers.”
He leads me by the hand back into the hall. There’s smoke rolling along the ceiling. We reach the entryway and it’s a mess of kindling, splinters, ruined paintings, and flames all over. Finn turns us away, down toward the kitchen, and I take the lead, hurrying to the back door. It’s standing open already, and outside it’s blinding and bright, a nice, warm, comfortable day.