Chapter 41

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

DECLAN

Conor, Finn, and Rory were leaving the house with Quinnno more thana few minutes after us. They should've been here at least twenty fucking minutes ago.

FatherO'Flahertyplaces his hand on my shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Are you sure she's coming, son?"

Of course she's fucking coming.

"Yes," I insist. "My brothers are bringing her."

The idea of Quinn having cold feet is so outlandish that it's laughable. She's wanted this for most of her life. There aren't words to describe how excited she is— we are— about this day finally being here. It could be nothing more than an accident on the FDR, but my gut is telling me otherwise.

Something is wrong.

Stepping from the altar, I pull my phone from my pocket and call Finn. It rings a few times and goes to voicemail. When I call Conor, I'm met with the same unnerving result.

Something is definitely wrong.

"Try calling Finn again," I huff at Liam as I pace anxiously between the flower adorned pews. "I'm going to try Rory."

"Voicemail," Liam informs me, moments before Rory's phone diverts to voicemail as well.

"Well, keep fucking trying," I snarl, hitting the button to dial Rory again.Every repeated dial is metwith the same results.

"Come here, a stóirín ." I pull her from the pew before thealtar, her adorable, fluffy dress crinkling as I lift her into my arms. " Daidi needs to go."

"Go?" She looks confused as I hastily carry her toward Layla and Tristan. "I want to see Quinn in her princess dress, daidi ."

Me too, a stóirín.

"I need you to take her home." I hug Fiona tightly and pass her into Tristan's arms. "Something isn't right, Tris."

"Go." He nods. "Take Liam with you. Don't worry about Fiona. You know Layla and I will take care of her."

Cupping the back of her head, I pull her toward me and tenderly kiss her forehead. "I love you, a stóirín ."

As I storm out of the church, Liam is immediately on my heel. We stop at the back of the SUV and open the liftgate to arm ourselves from the concealed unit beneath the cargo area. With a pistol stowed in my waistband and a short-barreled shotgun in hand, I climb into the driver's seat and wait for Liam to join me.

"If you make a left and go down four or five blocks, it'll put you right on the FDR," Liam directs as I wait for a break in traffic to pull into the street. We both know the route they were supposed to be taking. It makes the most sense to retrace their steps as we head toward the house.

We barely make it two blocks from the church before finding ourselves in gridlock. Barely moving, we creep down the block. "For fuck's sake," I blare on the horn. "Get the fuck out the way."

Icatch a glimpse ofa police cruiser parked in the middle of the road. The lights are flashing, and the officer standing before it is detouring traffic down a side street to get around an accident. Following the cars before me, I'mslamon the brakes when I see it.

"What the fuck?" Liam jerks forward from the sudden stop.

"That's our fucking car!" I leave the engine running as I jump from the driver's seat, not caring that the SUV is in the middle of the road. Pushing past the police barricade, I race toward Quinn. Every stride grants me a clearer view of the scene before me. And the sight before me causes my feet to grow heavier, like I'm wading through tar.

No less than eight Bratva soldiers lie on the road between me and the SUV, all of them lifeless in growing pools of blood. Bullet casings and shotgun shells float in the claret surrounding them and roll across the asphalt. Even with the strong breeze, the smell of gunpowder lingers in the air.

Firefighters and paramedics work diligently to pull Rory from the driver's seat. His dress shirt is a deep crimson, and his suit glistens from the amount of blood that has saturated it. As he clings tolife, our eyes meet, and the sense of failure in his nearly breaks me. I don't need to reach the him to know what he needs to tell me. She's gone. Rory mouths, "I'm sorry,Sir."

He's being pulled from the bullet-ridden car and placed on a stretcher when I finally really reach him. I clutch his hand, and he uses what little strength he has to pull toward him. Struggling to breathe, losing blood with every shallow breath, he gurgles, "I tried to save her. I tried. I'msor?—"

"Rory!" I shout his name as his hand falls limp in mine.

Someone grabs me from behind, pulling me away from Rory as they rush him toward an awaiting ambulance, "You can't be here,sir."

"That's my fucking car," I shout, staring at the splintered rear window covered in blood. Her blood . "And my fucking wife."

"Your wife?" The officer continues to pull me away from the scene.

Conor and Finn both stagger toward me as the officer pulls me further from the vehicle. Blood oozes from a large gash in Conor's forehead, and he's holding his left arm as it hangs lower than it should, clearly pulled out ofthesocket. Finn isn't in much better shape, with blood trickling from the bruised and blooded cut above his eye. A paramedic follows them, arguing to let her help them as they walk faster to get to me.

"Get off my fucking brother," Conor's voice booms at the man holding me. Using his good arm, he tears him off me and tosses him to the ground as if he weighs nothing. Neither of us can get to the SUV fast enough.

I pull at the handle, unable to open the thoroughly dented door. Finn slams his fist through the cracked glass, and I almost can't look as it shatters into the backseat and rains down the door to the pavement. Bloody streaks run along the door beneath the open window, and crimson stains the tan leather.

But she's not here.

All that's left of herarea pair of white high heels marbled with her bloody fingerprints.

I'm so sorry, mo chéadsearc.

I broke my promise…again.