All the air was squished out of me, all the oxygen taken away as I looked at him, which, of course, was when I fell apart. I started sobbing because if I had gotten my ass shot, I’d never have seen him again, and five years of being away from him was already too much.
I hauled ass, running out of the living room and out into the hall, then dragged open the front door so I could throw myself at him.
And like every Prince Charming, even if this one smelled of smoke and gasoline, his arms immediately came up and curved around me. He tucked me so deep into his chest, I almost coughed from the smell of soot and the compression of my lungs, but damn, what a way to go.
In his arms, though it was totally irrational, I felt safe. Safe. Safety was more of a commodity than ordinary folk even knew.
"What the fuck’s happened, Kid? Has Brennan upset her?" He squeezed me tighter, like just the thought was enough to infuriate him—I even heard the rumble in his chest when he snarled out the words.
Conor, who must have come out for the show, probably hoping to watch Aidan rail me a new one for disobeying, snorted. "You really think Brennan would make her cry?"
"He can be a bastard when he wants to be," was all Aidan said. "What the fuck’s happened if Brennan isn’t to blame?"
Ignoring him, Conor demanded, out of the blue, "Is Finn okay? What the hell? Ma and Da are unconscious!"
"It’s a long story. Why is Savannah crying?" he barked, making his priorities very clear.
Me.
I was at the top of them.
Naturally, that made me cry harder.
"The compound was attacked."
"What?!" Aidan bellowed, and because of the way the yard was constructed, that made noise echo around the place.
"I can match your long story," Conor murmured, "and play hard ball."
"Sparrows came for me," I sobbed out, uncaring that I was snotty and sticky from tears. "L-L-Lots of people died."
Aidan tensed. "On our side?"
"Guards, mostly. None of the women. Why was Ma with you? Why are they all unconscious?"
"Finn’s just asleep," Aidan muttered. "It took him a long time to stop coughing, then when he did, he passed out. As for the folks, it’s... the Archbishop of New York was a Sparrow."
Conor whistled under his breath. "No fucking way."
"Yes way. Da was naturally upset."
"I’m assuming that’s why the cathedral’s in ruins? Heard about it—it’s all over the news."
"Da wanted to send a message," he confirmed rawly.
"Why the fuck was Ma with him?"
"Why does Da ever do anything? He thought she should come along for the ride." He squeezed me tight then pressed a kiss to my temple. "You’re safe, sweetheart."
"She always was." He scoffed. "Damn nerve."
"Wasn’t slighting your security, Conor. I was just trying to be reassuring."
"Well, get more creative."
Aidan grunted, "Stop being a jerk." Another kiss was bestowed to my temple. "Everything’s going to be okay."
"I know it is," I whispered, my voice clogged with emotion.
"Then, why are you scared?" He paused. "In fact, why the hell are you out here and not in the safe room?"
Conor laughed. "You can take that out on her ass later. We have work to do."
"Jesus, I’ve already done a day’s work."
"It sucks to be the heir, doesn’t it?" Conor retorted, mock-sympathy lacing the words.
Because I’d been involved in the process, I knew he wasn’t wrong, knew there was still a lot to do before the night was out, especially if their parents were unconscious—what the hell was that about?
Instead of causing more of a scene than I already had, and now that I knew he was here, I whispered, "It’s okay. I’ll go to the safe room now."
Aidan squeezed me once more. "I’ll come and get you out as soon as I can, all right?"
I peeped up at him. "I missed you."
"The feeling’s mutual," he rasped, his gaze locked on mine. "Thank you for not running for the hills."
"She didn’t have a choice. Those hills were more dangerous than the estate," Conor muttered, and I let out a snot-laden laugh.
"He has a point."
Aidan growled under his breath and shot his brother a death-ray glance, then he heaved a sigh. "He usually does."
Thirty-Nine
Aidan
Today had probably been the longest day of my life.
One of the worst and the best too.
What a day to realize I had daddy issues.
After a very busy night, one that made the day feel like it had run slow, I headed to my parents’ room before I went to the safe room to get Savannah out.
Putting an ear to it, I heard moving around, the sounds of drawers being opened and closed, even the shower, so I knocked and braced myself for what was about to come.
I’d received the lowdown on tonight’s events, and had given a cleaned-up version of what had happened at the cathedral to my brothers, all while Cruz, one of our allies, made sure our place was spic-and-span with no forensic DNA evidence.
Star had even telecommuted in on the meeting, and had hacked into Savannah’s website, releasing all the exposés in one swoop.
I wasn’t sure Savannah would appreciate that, but once I informed Star that the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court was the fucking head of the Sparrows, had explained how they worked using the information the Archbishop had spilled under torture, there was no stopping her.
The exposé on DeLaCroix, the Chief Justice, we’d learned, had already been scheduled to drop on the 25th, but this recent intel changed the timeline and sped up the urgency.
We needed that bastard behind bars.
With no head, how could a body work?
Savannah and Star’s source was an ex-trafficking victim of the Sparrows. A Sinners’ Old Lady with a quirk that, with her past, must be torturous. Definitely more of a curse than a gift. The ability to remember every face I’d ever seen wasn’t something I’d wish on an enemy, never mind an ally. Star had promised that she’d be pumping this woman, Amara, for more faces so we could truly start to annihilate the NWS from the inside out.
With the compound cleaned up of forensics, Conor’s chatter confirming that the NYPD believed the attacks against our church and the cathedral were considered gang warfare—retaliation against the Irish Mob—that there’d been no casualties so far aside from the intended one, of course, and my brothers believing that Da had gone off the rails because the man we’d learned was a Sparrow was Catholic, things were wrapped up as well as they could be. Especially once I’d seen Finn rattling around, stooped a little as he hacked up his guts some more.
I wasn’t as badly affected, and half-wondered if my detoxed body had assumed the smoke was a type of drug. I sure as hell wasn’t coughing as much as he was.
In fact, a few coughs sounded within the bedroom, but the door opened, revealing Da’s haggard face to my cautious gaze. "Son?"
Nerves hit me, and I wasn’t even sure why. I just felt on edge, pretty much like he did.