Page 141 of Delirium
She what?
My eyes instinctively moved to Ava, seeing the pure fury playing over her face, and I knew. I fucking knew.
“You mean your nephew?” Maya grinned. “The nephew you knew about. The son of your brother who he doesn’t know about, because you took him away from me?”
The figure came closer to Ava and Tristan, close enough to hear what Maya was saying. It took me a moment to recognize Kieran and his wide eyes as Maya revealed something that none of us could have predicted.
“Yeah, I know the truth, Ava. I know that Belladonna instructed El Chupacabra to take him from me. I always knew, and I didn’t leave him. Trust me. You have no idea who you’re fucking with. I’m not the Maya Aster you remember, Princess.”
We… I had a nephew? Kieran’s son. Kieran had a son?
I wanted to ask her about him, ask about the things she went through, but we didn’t have time. Not right now.
In the blink of an eye, Maya crossed the distance between her and Tristan, and before any of us could react, she aimed her gun at Tristan’s leg and pressed the trigger. The sound of a gunshot cut through the night. As Tristan started tumbling down, Maya took a hold of Ophelia’s son, keeping him close to her chest, while my brother fell to the ground, grunting and crying out.
“You fucking bitch!” Ava screeched, aiming her gun at Maya. Within seconds, Kieran had his hands wrapped around Ava’s neck, squeezing tightly.
“You hid my son away from me?” he growled, his eyes filled with pure fury as he looked down at our sister. “You knew.”
He kicked the gun from Ava’s hand, letting it fall to the ground, while I stood there, dumbfounded, and shocked with the newfound information.
“You fucking knew!” he roared, and I could see his fingers pressing against her larynx, her eyes fluttering, her mouth opening and closing, trying to pull in air.
“Y-you’re cho-king me,” Ava sputtered as Maya laughed, tucking the gun into the back of her pants again.
“Good,” Kieran sneered. “Kill.” He looked up at me. “Take the baby.”
“No!” Ava wailed. “She’s mine. They’re both mine.”
“Cillian!” he blasted. Without a second thought, I moved toward them, carefully pulling the baby away from Ava.
“No,” Ava cried, trying to get away from Kieran, holding the baby close to her chest. “You can’t take her. She’s mine. Mine!”
“She was never yours,” I sneered at her, finally getting the baby from her, and pressing the baby to my chest. “Neither one of them were ever yours, and they never will be. You’re sick, Ava.”
“Nooooo!” she cried as I stepped away. I looked down at the little girl in my arms, feeling as if someone sucker punched me as my eyes connected with her blue ones. She was a little replica of Ophelia, from her eyes to the pouty lips, and the way she glared at me, still covered in blood.
“We need to get them to the hospital,” Maya said, pulling me back from my reverie. “Take him as well.” She came closer, handing over the little boy in her arms. They were tiny, too fucking tiny, and I worried that the mess Tristan and Ava made would harm these little kids.
“You need to go, Kill,” Maya said, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Find Atlas and get him to drive. Just go.”
“What are you going to do with them?” I asked, looking at a crying Ava, and Tristan on the ground with blood pooling out from his thigh.
“We will handle it,” was all she said, before she started pushing me away from them and toward the front entrance of the hangar. “Find out if they got Ophelia.”
I simply nodded, and without looking back, I started walking toward the front, where I hoped the paramedics would still be. But as I rounded the corner, I realized it was too dark, and the ambulance was nowhere to be seen.
“Fuck,” I cursed, looking through the crowd of bikers gathered around until I saw the blond hair of a man I knew could help. “Atlas!” I bellowed, rushing toward him, careful not to run. The last thing I wanted was to drop these two. “Atlas!” I yelled out again, finally catching his attention.
He frowned at first, seeing me walking toward him, but when his eyes traveled down my body, landing on the two blanket-covered bundles in my arms, he jumped into action, sprinting toward me, leaving the man he was talking with behind.
“Are those—”
“Yes. But we need to go, now. They need a doctor.”
“Come on,” he said, slowly guiding me toward the Mercedes parked on the curb. “I’ll drive.”
“Ophelia?” I asked as he opened the door, but I caught the look on his face, and I knew it was bad. “How bad is it?”
