Thy Kingdom Come

When he asked how I felt about not being Co

I don’t know anything anymore, but what I do know is that I’m going to kill every fucker who laid a finger on Cian. As for my grandparents…I really am walking into the unknown. The only advantage we have is that we’ve been here before.

We park down the road, taking in our surroundings as it’s dusk. We don’t have the moonlight to hide behind. We decide to jump the fence on the side of the property as the thick shrubs and hedges lining it will provide the coverage we need.

The absolute silence scares me. I don’t know what we’ll find inside this house of horrors.

We quietly jump the fence, hiding behind the hedges. The curtains are drawn across the window, so we can’t see anything. I gesture with my head that we’re to move.

“Ya need to be quiet. Quieter than a mouse.”

All I can hear is my ma’s voice. The words she spoke to me before our lives changed forever.

This house is riddled with nothing but bad memories, and the fact my “family” has no issues being here, shows they don’t care about what happened to my ma. Being here makes me want to vomit. But they stay here of their own accord. It’s beyond fucked up.

I may not be a Kelly, but I’m not a Foster either. I don’t know who I am. And I’m okay with that.

When Rory and I peek into the window at the back of the gaff, I hold my breath because this room is where my ma was slaughtered. And it’s the room where my best friend was beaten to a bloody mess.

The curtains are parted a fraction, so we can see in, and what I see has me clenching my fist, promising to kill every last fucker who laid a hand on Cian.

“He’s breathin’,” Rory whispers. “Only just.”

“I need ya to stay out here,” I order, placing my bag onto the ground and quietly unzipping it. “Don’t let anyone in. Or out.”

When I give him a gun and a knife, he understands what we need to do when the enemy approaches.

“Y’ll be all right on yer own?”

Nodding, I arm myself and slip on my hood. “Aye. It’s this gaff which taught me what bloodshed was.”

“See ye soon.” He extends his hand, which I slap and shake.

I don’t know what’s going to happen, but Cian won’t die in my place. I’ll do everything I can to save him.

Without hesitation, I walk toward the back door and peer around the doorjamb. It’s unma

My boots don’t make a sound as I tiptoe through the gaff, refusing to give way to the memories which plague me with each step I take. The fact there is no one in here troubles me as to what I’m about to find. As I peer around the corner, I see a man standing in front of the bedroom door.

He’s holding a machine gun.

There is no way I can sneak up on him, so I look for a distraction. I see one in the shape of a small rock near my foot. Picking it up, I throw it against the back window. It makes just enough of a sound to alert the arsehole.

His slow footsteps echo in the silence. I hold my breath and arrange my hood low over my brow. The barrel of his machine gun is the first thing I see as he cautiously walks through the hallway. Focusing his attention on the window is his error because before he knows what’s happening, I strike out and elbow him in the face, blinding him.

Before he can fire his weapon, I snatch the machine gun from his limp grip and knock him out cold. I catch him before he hits the floor and quietly rest his unconscious form against the wall. He stays upright for now.

With machine gun in hand, I commence my walk down the hallway, the carpet muting my footsteps. With a deep breath, I prepare myself for anything as I kick open the bedroom door, gun raised, ready for battle. But I only see Cian and my grandparents.

Where is everyone?

I can ponder on that later.

“Cian?” I whisper, gently slapping his bloody cheek.

He moans in response as bloodied spittle dribbles from the corner of his mouth. They beat him good.

“Punky?” Keegan wheezes as he shifts in the chair he’s tied to.

“Shh.” I place my finger over my lips. “Where are they?”

“Havin’ a feg,” he replies. “There’re two of them.”

I quickly cut through the rope binding his feet and wrists. “Can ye walk?”

He’s beaten just as badly as Cian, but I need him to help me get Imogen out of here. She’s unconscious and doesn’t look to be in a good way.

The stubborn aul’ lad nods and ignores his shaking legs as he stands. I reach out to help steady him. “They think he’s ye,” he whispers, gesturing to Cian. “They kept sayin’ she told them so.”

She?

Who the fuck is she?

Quickly cutting the rope binding Imogen, Keegan lifts her limp body into his arms. “My friend is out back. He’ll help ye.”

Keegan doesn’t need to be told twice. “For what it’s worth, thank ye, lad. I know we letcha down. But ye still came for us.”

“I didn’t come for you,” I blankly reply, not interested in playing happy families. That time has come and gone.

He nods, accepting this for what it is, and staggers out the door.

Cian moans, and when he shifts, I see blood spurting from his side. He’s been stabbed.

“Always gettin’ yerself in trouble, aren’t ya?” I say, attempting to deflect the severity of his injuries as I carefully cut him free.

He coughs, a winded breath leaving him as he tries to speak. “She. Who’s she?”

“Shh, mate. Save yer energy, all right?”

He flops forward when I cut the rope at his wrists, unable to hold up his weight.

Reaching out, I slip my arm around his waist and help him stand. He leans against me, panting. He’s hurt really bad. I doubt he’ll be able to walk down the hallway, so I look at the window. It’s not a great option, but it’s the only one I have.

However, when I hear the front door open, followed by jovial voices, I realize there is another option; one which saved my life.

“Cian,” I whisper, dragging him toward the wardrobe. “Y’ve got to hide.”

“Naw, lemme fight,” he argues, attempting to dig in his heels.

This conversation hits too close to home.

Opening the wardrobe, I gently place him inside and give him the machine gun as he sags into a half-sitting position.

“Ya can fight from in here.”

He arms himself as best he can. “I’m sorry, Punky. I was careless.”

“Don’t be worryin’ about that,” I cut him off, shaking my head. “Just stay quiet.”

He nods, his face a brutal mess.

Closing the wardrobe door, I press my back against the wall, preparing for battle. I only need one of them alive. Two of them come bursting through the door, looking at the empty chairs, confused, which is when I strike.

I stab one in the thigh while I kick the other in the stomach, winding him. He staggers back, tumbling over one of the chairs. He doesn’t have a chance to get up because I drop to one knee and slam my fist into his face, once, twice, before he’s out cold.

The man howling in pain as he tries to pull out the knife just feeds this guttural anger, and I slowly turn toward him and laugh. I know this arsehole.

“Ya take that out, y’ll bleed to death in seconds,” I warn calmly as I’ve stabbed him in the femoral artery.

His bloody hands pause from removing my blade.

I come to stand, watching the way his face twists in recognition.