Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Piper

H e's here.

When the explosions started, Vladmir and Arkady ran out of here like their asses were on fire. I hoped—no, I prayed—Sean was coming for me.

But even as I did, I reminded myself not to be so na?ve. The Quinns don't come across the river. If he did, Sean would be breaking the truce his brother so desperately wants to preserve.

But he's here.

"What the fuck did they do to you?" Sean's voice is warbling with fury and I'm not sure what set him off until I track his gaze.

There's a thin trail of blood on the inside of my thigh. "I'm all right. Sean, listen to me. They didn't rape me."

"Then why the fuck are you bleeding?"

I could say it's my period and avoid telling him the humiliating truth, but I don't think I can lie to him. I don't want to lie to him. "I told them I wasn't a virgin and Arkady verified that with two fingers. It wasn't pleasant, but it isn't worth dying over. Now, untie me and take me away from here."

As if to punctuate the urgency of my request, automatic gunfire sounds off outside the house.

Sean stalks closer. "Aye, we'll leave, but everything about you is more than worth dying over, Piper. Don't ever doubt that."

My wrists burn as Sean slices through the plastic ties that bind them. The relief of being freed is immediate, but the fear and adrenaline that have been clawing at my insides don't subside.

Sean pulls me into his arms, the reality of my rescue not settling in yet.

"Thank you." My voice is as unsteady as my hands. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

Sean eases back, his scowl intense. "I will always come for you, kitten. But from now on, I won't need to because you're never leaving my fucking side."

I like the sound of that.

I'm not sure how that will work, but it's a nice thought for a terrible moment.

"Hate to break this up, but it's time to go." Brendan is leaning into the room with urgency written all over his face. "Hey, Piper. Glad you're not dead."

"Thanks. Me too."

Sean grabs my hand and leads me out of the room. We rush through the mansion, dodging people fleeing the chaos that the Quinns have unleashed.

Anxiety twists hot in my guts as we step over the bodies of dead men—men I recognize. They work for my father, so why would they be here? Are they guarding the Russians?

The truth is much simpler than that, and the realization sinks in with each hurried step. My father's men are here because this wedding is all part of his twisted plot to marry me off to the Russians. The entire event is a lovely farce meant to bind me to a life I never wanted.

My father is behind all of this.

We burst out a side door and sprint along the stone wall of the house. The backyard sprawls before us, a scene of shattered elegance.

The wedding preparations—a grotesque reminder of what was meant to be my future—lie in ruins. Draped tables are overturned, gorgeous flower arrangements are trampled… It's the backdrop of Vladmir's delusional plans for me.

"Almost there." Sean glances over his shoulder to send me a reassuring gaze and I scream.

Just as the beach is in sight, Vladmir and Arkady step into our path, guns raised.

We stagger to a halt, the cold night air prickling my skin. Vladmir's face is twisted, his gaze burning with a mix of madness and betrayal.

Arkady stands beside him, his loyalty to Vladmir unwavering despite the chaos.

Time stands still.

My heart beats so loudly I can hear it in my ears.

Sean tightens his grip on my hand, a silent promise that he's here, that he won't let them take me.

But facing the men who see me as nothing more than a pawn in their power games, I realize how quickly that could change.

Vladmir and Arkady embody the chains I've been fighting to break all my life, and now, on the precipice of freedom, they threaten to drag me back.

Arkady aims his weapon, his intent clear in the set of his jaw and the lethal calm in his eyes.

Sean raises his hand. "Not a good idea, gentlemen. If you call your boss, Anton will tell you to let us leave without conflict. A deal has been struck. We're not your enemy."

Is that true, or is he bluffing?

I can hardly comprehend how Sean orchestrated a deal with Anton Volkov. My gaze flits between Arkady and Vladmir, gauging their reaction.

With a grunt that sounds more like a growl, Arkady pulls out his phone and dials. The conversation in rapid Russian slices through the tense silence, his voice terse. After a brief exchange, he hands the phone to Vladmir.

Vladmir's conversation is clipped, his tone betraying a flicker of surprise and annoyance. When he ends the call, his eyes pin me with a glare that chills. "Fine. You go. You not my innocent bride, anyway. Filthy whore."

Sean's muscles tense beside me, and I squeeze his hand. Before he loses his composure and escalates the situation, I tug at his arm. "Let's go. Please, Sean. Take me home."

Something in my plea breaks through his anger because he nods to Brendan and then pulls me into motion.

We make our way toward the edge of the harbor, my bare feet sinking in the sand. The darkness of the bay beckons. Safety is almost within our reach.

"Get the boat started, Brenny."

Brendan races ahead of us, wading into the water to where two boats are bobbing in wait.

Bang. Bang.

Sean's body jerks with the impact of gunfire, and his hand tears from my hold. He face-plants into the sand and doesn't move.

"Sean!" Panic seizes me as I drop to my knees beside him. "Sean."

Before I can roll him over to assess the full scope of horror, I'm hauled backward and thrown to the ground.

I twist around, rising to my feet to face Billy Gravely. His eyes burn with madness as he reclaims a vicious grip on me and pulls me away from Sean's body.

The world spins as I'm dragged along the waterfront, further away from Sean and my chance at freedom.

"You're a fucking menace," Billy grumbles more to himself than to me. "Do you realize the fucking damage you've done? First by pissing off the Russians, then by taking up with the Quinns?"

His questions are rhetorical and with Sean shot and likely bleeding to death, I don't have the energy to answer them even if they weren't.

I'm lost in the anguish of losing Sean, the chill of salty spray and shock working in harmony to make me shiver.

Until a roaring heat hums over my skin.

I glance up the beach as we approach the remnants of what used to be three of my father's warehouses.

Flames lick the night sky, the structures reduced to fiery skeletons. The sharp, acrid smell of burning wood and melted plastic assaults my senses.

The distant explosions I heard when I was tied up in that room make sense now. The Dublin Devils weren't just here to rescue me—they were also attacking my father's empire.

Good. I hope his losses are unrecoverable.

As we get closer, the heat from the fires becomes almost unbearable. The light from the flames casts eerie shadows across Billy's face, making him look more monstrously unhinged. He's muttering under his breath, his words lost in the crackle and hiss of the inferno.

My father's legacy is going up in smoke, and a part of me feels vindicated. He brought this upon himself with his endless greed and his cold disregard for anything other than power.

I strain against Billy's hold, wrenching my arm, but it's no use. His grip tightens, his nails digging painfully into my skin. Between my ribs, my raw wrists, and the way he's handling me, pain sears me inside and out.

We stop at the edge of the warehouse property, close enough that the heat dries the tears on my cheeks and makes my skin feel tight and oversensitive.

I look back down the beach, my heart hammering against my battered ribcage. Is Sean still alive? I squint against the brightness of the fire, searching the darkness beyond the swirling smoke and flickering flames.

Movement ignites hope, but when I see who's approaching, that hope is stomped out.

It's not Sean—it's my father.

His face is contorted with rage, his eyes burning not from the fire's reflection, but from something consuming him—insanity maybe.

He's been known as Mad Mattie for years, but seeing him now, I'd say he's living up to his moniker.

"You ruined everything." Spittle sprays over my face and he screams. "Look what you've done."

"Me? I was locked in a room. This is on you, Da."

His swing is fast, his backhand brutal. The force of the blow connecting with my face spins my head and knocks me to the ground. Blood runs hot from my nose, the sting of the hit mingling with the heat from the fire, overwhelming and suffocating.

I'm on my knees, disoriented, my ears ringing, when I see him draw back his hand again. I brace myself for another hit, closing my eyes against the imminent pain.

Gunshots ring out, startlingly loud and close.

I flinch, expecting pain, but when I open my eyes, it's my father who falls. He collapses onto the sand, a startled look of confusion etched on his face.

Billy Gravely takes the next hit.

The force of the shot to his shoulder spins him. He staggers back, and the gun in his hand drops close to me.

I launch to get it, and when I raise it, he's already on the run. I point and shoot, firing every round he has left in the magazine.

When the gun silences, I stay there, frozen. I can't move. I can't think. I can't breathe.

Is it over? Will more of my father's men come?

But no one comes.

The only sounds are my ragged breath, the roar of flames, and the crash of waves. I don't know who fired those shots, whether it was one of Sean's men, a disgruntled ally of my father, or someone else entirely.

But in this moment, I don't care.

I glance down at my father lying in the sand and feel nothing but profound relief.

I can finally be free of him.