Unshackled

Prologue 1

Kellan Ford

Once we’d cleared the estate once and for all, Adam and I darted outside again, only to come to a screeching halt just past the patio. Broken glass, dead bodies, guns, and blood everywhere. In the darkness, the pools of blood were black.

Several of our guys stood on the lawn, watching Shan working on Patrick. He’d be okay, right? He had to be. We all wore Kevlar vests. Eric had been shot too, but he was lucid.

I came up next to Colm and couldn’t tear my gaze away from Shan and Patrick. Finn was there too, coaxing Patrick to open his eyes.

My heart crawled up into my throat.

“Don’t talk,” I heard Finn growl.

Shan was trying to get the bullet out of Patrick’s chest.

“He’s gonna be fine,” I gritted out.

Adam put a hand on my shoulder.

I shook it off and took another step closer. Patrick and Finn said something to each other; I couldn’t hear what it was, but it made Finn cry and chuckle at the same time.

“Quit it,” Finn croaked next. “Don’t fucking… I love you, and you’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna feel like an idiot in the hospital later, and we’re gonna give you so much shit for saying good-bye too soon.”

I pressed a fist to my mouth, only to notice my hands were covered in blood. Nausea slithered upward, tying a noose around my throat, and I quickly wiped my sleeve over my mouth, then my hands on my thighs. I was gonna be sick.

“Dad…” At the sound of Patrick’s voice, my head snapped up, and I itched to run over to him. You’re going to be fine, buddy. I wanted to scream the words until they became true. “I’ll take care of—” He started coughing up blood. The sight made me wanna hurl, and tears filled my vision. “Ma,” he finished.

“Fuck,” I choked out.

“No!” Shan worked frantically to keep Pat’s breathing going. “Stop it, Patrick! I’m not losing you too! You hear me? You stay with us.”

When he leaned over Patrick and rested their foreheads together, I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my face any longer. My heart shattered. I couldn’t believe it. I fucking refused. He was only twenty-seven! I’d grown up with him. We’d raised so much hell together.

“Not you too, my boy,” Shan sobbed.

Jesus Christ, it hurt. I wiped at my cheeks and shook my head. It couldn’t be happening. Hadn’t we lost enough?

I stared down at my shaking hands, blood smeared and drying, blood that belonged to Patrick’s murderer.

I fucking broke.

Finn stood up and glanced around himself. The heartbreak was clear in his eyes. He’d just lost his big brother.

We exchanged a brief look before he walked past me.

“The house is clear,” Adam murmured behind me.

Nobody did anything else, so I walked over to Shan, who wouldn’t let go of Patrick, and I dropped to my knees right next to them.

“Sir,” I croaked.

He shook his head and rocked back and forth with Patrick in his arms. “I need him back. Patrick, come back to me.”

I put a hand on Shan’s shoulder and helped him lower Patrick to the grass again. I could barely look at Pat. Every glimpse drove a knife deeper into my chest. His mouth stained with blood, his skin clammy and ghostly, eyes closed, no life-force.

I sniffled and refocused on Shan, and it didn’t take many seconds before he collapsed against me and let out a gut-wrenching cry that came straight from the core of his very being.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I hugged him to me and had absolutely nothing I could say.

A war had been won.

At what cost?

Prologue 2

A few months later

“You can’t be serious,” I groaned. “Of all the things—fucking hell, no.” I stared at him, my boss, my brother-in-arms, my best friend, and I couldn’t believe him. This was one thing he couldn’t ask of me.

He furrowed his brow and leaned back in his chair. “What the fuck happened now? You’re acting like I just closed your favorite gay bar. I don’t see the problem.”

That was fucking worse. He was usually more in tune with…well, me.

I didn’t have many requests. I worked all hours of the day, my tasks changed constantly, I was at his beck and call, and I made sure his life ran smoothly. I kept my phones on day and night so he could schedule sit-downs and whatnot at reasonable hours and go home to—wait. Scratch that. I scheduled his sit-downs at reasonable hours. He had his office down here on the docks where he ran his legit business; it was the only gig that didn’t go through me first. Everything else, however…

And I loved it. I wasn’t gonna lie. The money was great too. I loved being the one who puzzled all the pieces together. Finnegan O’Shea was the best boss this syndicate had seen in years, and I wanted him protected. But my time off was sacred. It was the bonus, the stipulation, our agreement. Four weeks. September was mine. Solely mine.