Into Temptation (Deliver Us from Evil Trilogy Book Two) Page 19

  “Y’ll never speak to her like that again.”

  The crowd gasps—some in horror, others in excitement.

  Brody raises his trembling hands in surrender, but that’s not an option. It never was. “My death will be avenged!” he exclaims. “Yer startin’ a war, Puck Kelly.”

  Yanking his head back farther and exposing his throat, I grin. “Oh, I’m countin’ on it.”

  “Please, naw,” he begs, interlacing his hands. “I’ve got money. Don’t kill me.”

  “Yer pathetic,” I spit. “Pleadin’ for yer life like a little pussy when ya had no mercy for my ma, for the hundreds of people y’ve killed. Or for yer daughter who ya used like a pawn.”

  Babydoll moves closer to me. I want her to know this is our vengeance. This is a war we will win because of her.

  “Ya can have it all.” Brody implores me to see reason. But this is the only reason I see.

  “I don’t want anythin’ from ya…” I pause, before adding, “Except for yer head.”

  Brody closes his eyes and begins to pray.

  “I wish I had days, weeks to torture ya, but honestly, forever wouldn’t be long enough time to do unto ye for what ya deserve.” His death will never be long, bloody, or violent enough, but it’ll send a message to Sean. So, it’ll do…for now.

  He continues praying. Maybe he thinks his God will offer him salvation.

  “Forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation.”

  But here, now, his God doesn’t exist. The only person who does is me—the devil he created.

  His neck is arched back at a painful angle, and when he opens his eyes, I smirk. Vengeance is finally mine.

  “But deliver us from evil,” I finish for him, and when I see hope reflected in his eyes, hope that was taken away from Mum when he played a part in her death, I slash my knife in one fluid movement across his throat.

  His warm blood coats my arms and shirt. I inhale deeply, a sense of calm overcoming me as he gurgles, choking on his own blood. He’s still alive when I make good on my promise and detach his head from his shoulders.

  His body flops forward, landing with a squelch on the stage as I hold his severed head in my hand. Peering down at it, I smile. Nothing has looked more perfect.

  There is the calm before the storm as the masses watch in disbelief, unsure if what they just witnessed actually occurred. But when I drop his head by his twitching torso, blood splattering the faces and clothes of people standing close by, the calm erupts into bedlam.

  Screams pierce the night air as the rich and powerful realize that won’t save them this time. Their social standing means nothing to me.

  “Let this be a warning to youse all…don’t fuck with me. If yer not with me, yer against me. And if ye know where Sean Kelly is…tell him it’s only a matter of time. Ats us nai.”

  It’s a flurry of panic as the guests desperately try to leave. I nod at Ron Brady, and he steps aside to let them go. For now.

  I take a moment to appreciate the mayhem and compare it to what I once saw—a black, white, and red imagery reflecting the death of my childhood.

  Liam Doyle suddenly appears in the archway, frantically shoving people aside to get to me. His time is coming, but that time is not now.

  “Babydoll, go!” I order over the hysterical screams. “I’ll find ya.”

  She appears to be in shock, staring at the dismembered body of her father with wide eyes.

  Ron is at her side, dragging her away toward the door behind the stage as she continues to stoically stare at Brody’s corpse. She doesn’t fight, which is unlike her.

  “Ron, take her someplace safe.”

  He nods firmly.

  I will deal with the consequences later, no matter what they are, because when Liam is a few feet away, I calmly walk to where Brody’s head lays. I memorize the image before I spit on it. Liam’s incensed cries cut through the carnage as he comes charging for me, but he stops dead in his tracks when I kick his father’s severed head like a football.

  On instinct, he catches it, which is what I knew he would do.

  He peers down at the head cradled in his hands. A surreal moment, no doubt. His revenge will wait because now, he has to collect the pieces of his father.

  A look of promise is exchanged between us. The next time we meet, only one of us will be left standing. With Brody’s blood coating my fingers, I strike two lines down the center of my forehead in honor of my ma.

  Two down, one to go.

  With that as my motivation, I quickly exit through the same door as Ron and gather my sense of direction. Following the signs, I find my way out back to where Rory has parked the car. He and Cian were here for backup, but I’m glad they weren’t needed because we’re about to fight a bigger war.

  Opening the back door, I dive inside. “Drive.”

  The car tears off down the road while I lay on the back seat, my heart racing uncontrollably. Now that I’m out of there, the brutality of what I did hits me, and when I look at my bloody hands, turning them over and over, a maniacal laugh spills from me.

  I did it.

  I have taken back a small piece of my soul.

  “Where’s Cami?” Rory asks, looking at me in the rearview mirror.

  “She’s with Ron Brady.”

  “Cian, send him a text and ask where they’re headed, will ya?”

  Cian does as Rory says.

  Once he’s done, he turns over his shoulder to look at me. “What did ya do?”

  He can guess, seeing as I’m covered in another man’s blood. But he wants to hear it from me.

  “I did what I promised,” I say, inhaling at the memory of my blade effortlessly cutting through muscle and flesh. “I took Brody Doyle’s head.”

  There is no need to elaborate further because the fact that I’m still standing and he isn’t is a sure sign we’ve won the war—for now.

  Rory drives to the address Ron text to Cian. We’re all silent, pensive to what transpired and what’s headed our way.

  I can still feel Brody’s warm blood coating my hands as I detached his head from his shoulders. I can still taste his fear as he took his last breath. I didn’t know how I’d feel when I finally avenged my mum, and now that it’s done, I realize I still feel numb.

  Sean is the one that I want. Brody and Aidan were the starters, and now, I’m ready for the main course.

  “What the fuck?”

  Rory’s curse has me sitting up, and when I see a car parked on the side of the road with its hazard lights on and Ron Brady standing by it, my heart begins to race for an entirely different reason.

  I’m out of the car before Rory puts it into park.

  “Where is she?” I ask, the tone of my voice hinting to Ron that I’m not fucking around.

  When he sees me, he quickly raises his hands in surrender. “She was out of the car before I could stop her.”

  “Where is she?” I repeat dangerously slow, not interested in his excuses.

  He gestures to his head to the aul’ abandoned manor. “She ran into there.”

  Just as I’m about to go in search of her, Rory rushes past me. “I’ll go.”

  He doesn’t give me the option to argue, but I wouldn’t because even though they’re no longer engaged, he still sees himself as her closest confidant. It kills me not to go after her, but maybe he is the better choice anyway.

  Cian stands by me, reading my thoughts, but doesn’t say a word.

  “What happened?”

  Ron removes his cap and rubs his sweaty brow. “We were on the way to the address I text ya. One minute, she was sittin’ quietly, and then the next, she’s jumpin’ out the car. If I was drivin’ any faster, she would have been killed.”

  Looking at the manor, it takes all my willpower not to chase after her.

  “She’s in shock,” I say, angry with myself for allowing her to see what I did.

  “She’s tough, Puck. Don’t underestimate her.”

 
Ron is right, but there is no shame in needing a breather after witnessing your father’s head being removed from his body by the man you love.

  “Thank you, Ron. What ya did back there, it’s changed everythin’. We’ve sent a message, and that message is…ya don’t want to fuck with Connor Kelly’s son.”

  I don’t fail to see the irony in that statement as once upon a time, I would have rather cut out my own tongue than admit I was Connor’s son, but now, I wear that title with pride. I wish he were alive so I could tell him that.

  But I’ll have to make it up to him in another way, and that’s rebuilding the kingdom he worked so hard to protect.

  “We’re glad yer back, son,” Ron says, his sincerity ringing true. “Northern Ireland missed ya.”

  “Aye, I missed her too.”

  Cian nudges me with his elbow and when I see Rory walking toward us alone, I brace for the worst. “She doesn’t want me… She wants you.”

  I open but soon close my mouth because there is nothing I can say that will erase the pain Rory feels at that fact. For him to phrase it the way he did, I make the assumption that he knows she wants me in more ways than one.

  With a sigh, I walk past him, bracing for him to knock me on my arse. I won’t fight back. I deserve it. But he doesn’t strike me. He simply lowers his chin, unable to watch me console the woman he loves.

  Like an utter bastard, I quickly go in search of Babydoll, forgetting about everything because the only thing that matters is finding her.

  Sections of the roof are missing, allowing the moonlight to be my beacon as I search the dilapidated manor for Cami. I use caution when I climb the staircase as the floor is unstable. This place is barely standing. I need to find her and get her to safety.

  I turn the corner, and a long hallway awaits me.

  This place would have been the envy of many back in the day, but now, it’s just a sad reminder of what once was.

  Strips of gold-flowered wallpaper curl from the walls, and the soggy carpet squelches with each step I take. I poke my head around each of the doorjambs—which no longer have any doors attached—as I approach the many rooms, but Babydoll is nowhere to be found.

  I reach the last room on the left, and when I look into it, I sigh in relief. Babydoll is standing out on the balcony. With an unhurried pace, I walk into the bedroom, not wanting to frighten her as the balcony looks far from stable.

  She knows I’m here as my footsteps announce my arrival, but she won’t turn around.

  “Baby,” I quietly say. “Are ya all right?”

  I know it’s a stupid question, considering the circumstances, but I need her to tell me what’s wrong.

  She remains perfectly still, the moonlight catching the jewels on her dress. I’ve never seen her so…quiet. It worries me.

  The balcony floor has holes, and when I step onto the concrete, the sound of crumbling pieces bounces off the ground below us. I stand beside her, ensuring to leave some space between us because I don’t want to crowd her.

  She continues staring off into the distance, her hands gripping the railing.

  “I’m sorry ya had to see what ya did.” I wasn’t thinking about anyone when I slit Brody’s throat. All I cared about was the vengeance coursing through my veins.

  But I’ve clearly scarred Babydoll as she won’t even look at me.

  “I should have thought of ye, and how it would affect ya. I should have killed him quicker and not taken pleasure in seein’ him suffer.”

  I enjoyed torturing him, which allowed Babydoll to see my true colors. Is she disgusted by what she saw? I don’t know what she’s thinking, and it’s driving me crazy. If she can’t forgive me, then all of this will have been for nothing.

  “Cami…talk to me,” I beg, uncaring she can hear the desperation in my plea.

  The night is cool, and a shiver rocks her quivering frame. I go to take off my jacket, but realize two things—one, I left my jacket at the crypt, and two, I’m slathered in her father’s blood.

  I go to turn, embarrassed to be here, pleading for mercy when I didn’t show that to her dad, but she gently grips my elbow to stop me. I look at her, confused to what’s going on.

  The tears in her eyes shine under the moonlight as she whispers, “Thank you.”

  “Thank you?” I question, taken aback. “What are ya thankin’ me for?”

  “No one has ever put me first, and that’s all you’ve done. Time and time again. What happened with Hugh—” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “He humiliated me and did things I…I’m ashamed I didn’t do more.”

  A tear trickles down her cheek.

  I want to wipe it away, but I don’t know if she’ll withdraw from me.

  “I couldn’t breathe,” she explains. “I needed to get out of that car. I’m embarrassed you know what he did. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want me—”

  “Stop that,” I gently interrupt. “None of this is yer fault. You were doin’ what ya had to, to survive.”

  “I’m pathetic. Nothing but a victim when I should have done more.” She slams her fist onto the railing, biting her lip in anger.

  But I won’t stand back and allow her to blame herself.

  With a hesitant touch, I place my hand over her fist, stopping her from hurting herself further. “I don’t see a victim,” I state. “I see a survivor. That’s all y’ve done, Baby. Y’ve just tried to survive.”

  More tears fill her eyes as we stand together, broken and wounded under this star-filled sky.

  She focuses her attention on our hands and then looks at my shirt. She only just realizes I’m covered in Brody’s blood. I’m at her mercy because whatever she wants, I will obey her without a fight.

  She turns to face me, and I do the same to her. She examines me slowly, no doubt reliving every step of tonight. I feel dirty in every sense of the word, so when Babydoll attempts to touch my cheek, I turn away.

  “I don’t want to pollute ya with my filth,” I confess, chin downcast.

  She reaches out and lifts my chin to meet her eyes once again. The air is suddenly on fire because finally…I know what she wants.

  She stands on her toes and presses her mouth to mine, kissing me with a sense of urgency and desperation that takes my breath away. I kiss her back with passion because I never thought she’d want to kiss me again.

  She winds her fingers through my snarled hair, tugging hard as she bites my bottom lip and then thrusts her tongue into my mouth.

  “Fuck me,” she pants, frantically fumbling with the buttons on my shirt.

  “Baby,” I say, attempting to stop her from undressing me. “I’m covered in yer…father’s blood. Let me get cleaned up. Let’s go back home and—”

  “No,” she interrupts, slapping my hand away. “Now.”

  Before I have a chance to plead she see reason, my buttons scatter all over the ground as she rips my shirt down the middle. My mouth parts in shock as her aggression is a surprise.

  She doesn’t give me any time to recover as she reaches for the buckle of my belt, making it clear she wants this, and she wants this now.

  But not like this.

  “Cami, stop,” I say, firmly gripping her wrist to stop her from unfastening my trousers.

  “You don’t want to fuck me? Is that it?”

  “Ya know that’s not it,” I reply, shaking my head. “Yer hurtin’. What ya saw tonight, if ya need some time to—”

  “What I need is a good fuck,” she aggressively spits. “And if you’re not going to give it to me, then I’ll find someone who will.”

  She’s angry, confused, and probably sad, and I understand that. So I don’t take her comment to heart.

  “Would ya quit actin’ like this? Talk to me. I want to know what yer thinkin’.”

  “Why?” she shouts, angry with me.

  Good.

  “’Cause ya saw me decapitate yer dad,” I reply calmly. “No matter that he was a fucking arsehole, he was still yer father.
That’s got to affect ya.”

  “Will killing Sean affect you?” she challenges, arching a defiant brow.

  “That’s different. Sean is nothin’ like Brody. He continues to fuck with me while Brody actually wanted to make amends with you, no matter how delusional that was. I think, no matter what he did, yer hurtin’ that he’s dead, and that’s normal.”

  “Fuck you,” she snaps, shaking her head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not hurting. I hate him!”

  “There’s nothin’ to be ashamed of,” I assure her. “He was yer dad.”

  “He used me!” she cries, arms out wide. “How dare you say I care. He’s a fucking monster. What does that say about me then? How could I love a monster? If what you say is true, then what does that say about me when I was the one who orchestrated his death?”

  When I don’t reply, she advances forward and shoves me in the chest.

  “Answer me! You seem to have all the answers, so go on then. How could I possibly love the man who ruined my fucking life?”

  I don’t retaliate. I allow her to take her emotions out on me because that’s the only way she’ll heal. For us to work, she’ll need to forgive me because if she doesn’t, we won’t survive this. And she needs to forgive herself.

  “Ya don’t choose who ya love, Cami,” I honestly confess. “Love chooses you. And yer powerless to stop that. Just how I was powerless to stop from fallin’ in love…with you.”

  She blinks once, her anger simmering as she digests what I just shared.

  It’s time she knows how I feel about her. Not because I’m afraid I’ll not have the chance again, but rather, because I want to.

  “I love you so fucking much, I can scarcely breathe at times. And that scares me. I’ve never loved anyone before because my entire life, I was surrounded by hate. But that changed…the day I met you.”

  The fire behind her eyes fades, and her walls begin to crumble.

  “I was the one who took Brody’s life, not you, but ya need to forgive yerself because the hate ya feel, it’ll eat ya up inside, and sooner or later, y’ll wish ya were dead too.