Page 7 of Oblivion
“Vince, Vince, Vince.” I laughed, hitting the wall with the back of his head. “I am not a patient person, but for you,” I opened my eyes, “I will be a fucking saint. I would like to cut your throat open right here, right now, but I won’t do that.”
“D-Don’t—”
“You thought my father was a vicious person?” I chuckled. “He was an angel compared to me. The things I have planned for you… You are going to love it.”
“They’re going to find you.” He smiled weakly. “They’ll make you pay for what you did.”
“Let them. But you won’t be here long enough to see that happen.”
I pressed my lips against his bloodied cheek and pulled out my knife from the strap around my leg. “I will bury you alive,” I whispered before hitting the back of his neck with the handle of my knife.
He tumbled down to the floor like a sack of potatoes, right at my feet.
Right where he belonged.
I kneeled next to him, caressing his arm with the tip of my blade and pulled out the phone from my back pocket. I dialed the last number I’d called just before coming to the house.
“It’s done,” I said as Cillian picked up, not even waiting for him to speak first.
“I’ll be there in five minutes,” was all he said before he hung up.
The games were just about the start, and The Syndicate, the Outfit, and the Albanians had no idea what was coming for them. Because I wasn’t going to pretend anymore. I wasn’t going to sit tightly while they tried to ruin my life.
2
OPHELIA
The black Range Roverpulled up in front of the house not even ten minutes after my call. Turning off the engine, the lights shut down and a few seconds after the door on the driver’s side as well as the passenger side opened, revealing two figures when I only wanted to see one.
The first one was my friend, my confidant, the person I could call in the middle of the night to help me bury a body, and I knew he would always come. The second one… I tried to kill the second one, but the bastard kept coming back. I tried to erase him from my life, but he obviously didn’t take a hint.
I called Cillian, but Kieran… Kieran wasn’t supposed to be here.
I stood up from the porch, scowling at Cillian, who kept grimacing as he approached me.
“Please don’t start,” he said before I blasted.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” I asked, pointing at Kieran, who was standing next to the car with his hands in his front pockets. “I called you, not him.”
“I know, but he was with me.”
“Kill—”
“I know, I know, but cut him some slack. He’s been worried about you.”
“He’s been worried about me?” I scoffed. “Why?”
“Because you’re acting like a lunatic!” Kieran answered instead, his voice grating on my nerves. “Again. You’re on a path of self-destruction, just like…” he trailed off.
“Just like before, you mean?” I thundered and came down the stairs to where Cillian stood. “Newsflash, Kieran, I am not yours to worry about.”
“Goddammit, Birdy!” he yelled out and closed the distance between us in three strides. “You don’t really get it, do you?”
“No. Why don’t you enlighten me, Kieran?”
He wrapped his hand around my upper arm, pulling me closer to him. “I will always worry about you,” he breathed out. “I don’t give a shit whose bed you’re warming right now, but here,” he pressed his other hand against his heart, “you still belong to me.”
“Kieran,” Cillian started in a warning voice. “We talked about this.”
