Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Two shots bring it down. More of my men are climbing up now after me, but they’re all in body armor, and it’s hard for them to get across the big gap, which is exactly what I wanted.
I move through the smoke, hunting. I find two Irishmen hiding in a room, one of them bleeding from an ugly shrapnel wound. I kill them both and stomp on their faces just to make sure they’re never getting up again. Glory rages through me, retribution and death eating away at my chest.
“Oisin, come talk,” I call into the smoke. Another person moves, one of the last remaining guards trying to reach the stairs, but my soldiers gun him down before he can even think about getting across.
Which leaves me and the last remaining twin.
“Your brother begged in the end, you know,” I say into the gloom around me. “Ciaran pissed himself and whined for you. Kept crying and blubbering; it was so pathetic. He died slow and painfully, and I mocked him during his last moments. I made sure he knew his brother was never coming and he’d never see you again. It made me happy, watching him piss himself and crawl around like a baby.”
“Fuck you,” Oisin roars and charges me through the smoke.
I meet him head-on like a lion. He hits me hard, and the pain in my shoulder flares as I block several punches on my good forearm. I feel stitches tug as I smash an elbow into his mouth. Blood splashes from wrecked and ugly gums. Poor Oisin really does look exactly like his dead and rotting brother. Except I bash his face, slamming my forehead into his nose, mangling him until he’s almost unrecognizable.
He lies on the floor gasping for air. Smoke billows around us, coming faster now. His chest rattles.
I shoot him in the right knee. He screams in agony. I do it again in the left. He curls up, catatonic and rocking back and forth, his legs ruined.
I stomp on both hands until they break, just to be sure he’s not going anywhere.
“Listen to me, you stupid piece of filth,” I whisper, leaning down into his bloody and ruined face. “You never should have come near my wife.”
“Seamus,” he whispers through broken teeth. “It’s Seamus. He’s sick for that girl. Oh, God, we had orders—”
“Do you think I give a fuck? You’re going to meet your brother in hell now, you worthless pile of steaming shit, and I’m going to go home, kiss my wife, and fuck her while thinking about your burning corpse.”
Oisin’s eyes go wide when he understands. “No,” he moans as I pull away. He tries to come after me, but his knees are destroyed and his hands are shattered. He can’t crawl, can’t drag himself, can’t get up. “No, please, don’t leave me. Please, kill me now. Please, kill me!”
“Die slow,” I say and leave him there to suffer as the fire rages all around me.
I reach the steps and leap across. My men are gone, waiting at the bottom as the smoke billows around me. I’m going to stink for days from that mess. “It’s an inferno up there,” I report to Leon. “Did you get the drugs?”
“Most of them are already loaded up, sir. What about the Irishman?”
“Died in the fighting.” I clap the captain on the shoulder. “Good work. Let’s get out of here before it burns down.”
“Good idea, sir.”
We stride out of the house and into the cool night air. Around me, Brotherhood soldiers are loading drugs onto trucks. Arsen’s standing outside the car, arms crossed over his chest, a big frown on his face.
I’d do anything for my brother. I’d kill anyone, hurt anyone, burn the whole fucking world if he asked.
But nobody fucks with my wife and survives.
Fire flickers as it pours out the windows, and I swear I can hear the sweet music of Oisin’s terrified and agonized screams bellow into the night like a beautiful song.
Chapter 26
Tigran
“You smell like a bonfire,” Aunt Sona says back at the mansion. Her arms are crossed, and her nose is all wrinkled up. “What happened?”
Arsen fills her in as we head into the main office. I pour everyone a drink, and even Sona accepts it this time. She seems thoughtful but annoyed as she sips the delicious whiskey. I let the hot burn of it linger on my tongue, thinking about Oisin’s last moments.
“We wanted him alive,” Sona says, giving me a pointed look. “The twins knew things we could’ve used.”
“Nothing we can do about it now.” Arsen slumps into his chair and looks toward the window. “Liam was talking about war when one twin was dead. Now that we have Oisin and most of his soldiers, it’s all but guaranteed.”
“The McGraths have been getting too full of themselves lately anyway,” I say with a shrug.