Page 72 of Faithless Vows

I think of her sitting across from me in this same room, eyes shining, voice shaking while she asked me how many women there had been. I think of her standing at our reception while I made a public show of ruining her. I think of the boat. Her crying. Me still putting my hands on her like wanting her gave me the right.

And after all that, they want me to sign the papers because I’m cornered, because I’m beaten, because a gun might do what sense never could.

Satisfaction flashes in Malachy’s eyes. He hands the cutters back to Conor, who steps around me to stand at his side. “Now,” he says. “Are you ready to sign?”

I drag my eyes up from the broken ring. “No.”

Malachy studies me for a moment. “What are you holding on to, lad?” he asks. “There’s nothing left. Alannah wants nothing to do with you now. Once yousign those papers, the marriage is gone. Like it never happened.”

His head tilts, and the pity in his eyes is worse than the satisfaction. “She’ll move on. She’ll marry Finn before the year’s out. And you’ll be forgotten.”

I look at the papers in Malachy’s hand and drag my tongue over my split lip, fighting back a wince when it passes over the broken skin. “I’m not signing those,” I say. “Not for you.”

Malachy goes still. “What are you on about?”

I drag in a breath that hurts. “If Alannah wants me to sign them, she can ask me herself.”

Declan lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. I catch him out of the corner of my eye as he pushes off the wall and walks toward us, stopping in front of me. I look at each man standing there. “I’ve done enough to her. Enough deciding. Enough taking. Enough calling it love when all I did was wreck everything she gave me.” I shake my head. “I’m done making choices for her.”

Malachy watches me, then folds the papers and slips them inside his jacket. “Are you certain of that?” His expression hardens. “Last chance, lad.”

“I’m not signing.”

Malachy shakes his head, then reaches into his coat and draws out a pistol. He steps in close and presses the barrel to my forehead. The metal is cold against my skin, and my pulse jumps hard enough that I feel it in my throat. The sharp click of the hammer cuts through the shed. I hold Malachy’s stare with my good eye, refusing to look away.

“No!” Alannah’s scream rips across the room. The gun lifts off my forehead, and every head snaps toward the sound as she runs to us, boots hammering against the stone floor. She stops when she reaches the three men standing between us, breathing hard, eyes wide as they move past them to the chair, the ropes, my face.

Then she sways, the colour draining from her face, and Malachy moves fast, catching her by the arm before stepping in front of her and blocking me from view. “Alannah, leave,” he demands. “This doesn’t concern you.”

But she looks around him anyway, her eyes meeting mine. “Ronin?” Her voice comes out small, confused. Her gaze drops to the ropes again, and panic starts to break through. “Why are you still here?” She looks back at Malachy, her voice unsteady. “Grandda, what’s happening?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry yourself over, Alannah girl,” he says, his voice low and coaxing now. “You should be back at the house.”

She shakes her head and glances toward the back of the room. I follow her gaze and see her coat from yesterday still lying across one of the tables. Her face crumples, and tears spill down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Grandda. I know I shouldn’t be in here…” Her voice shakes as she looks between us. “But… why?”

Malachy’s jaw tightens. “It’s nothing. Men’s business. Your soon-to-be ex-husband is refusing to see reason.”

Her eyes flick between us, confusion written all over her face. Then I see it click. Her lips part, trembling. “So that’s why…” She looks at me, more tears spilling over. “You came all this way to ask me for a divorce?”

“No.” The word tears out of me. “No, Alannah, I didn’t—”

Malachy cuts in before I can say more. “I had the papers drawn up. The marriage can be annulled. It’ll be as though it never happened.” His voice hardens. “You won’t be tied to a man who humiliated you, lied to you, and tried to take you back to Boston against your will.” His eyes cut to me. “He refuses to sign.”

“I won’t,” I say, looking at her as she swipes at her tears with the back of her hand. “Not unless it’s what you want.”

Her hand drops. “What I want?”

She looks at her grandfather, her voice breaking. “Grandda, you were going to shoot him if he didn’t sign?”

“I’ll do what needs doing.”

She turns back to me, tears still on her cheeks. “But you won’t sign?”

“Not unless you ask me to.”

Her eyes flick to the gun in Malachy’s hand. “But my grandda will kill you if you don’t.”

“Yes,” I say.