Page 35 of Freeing Emily

The recoil reverberates through my arm, but my stance remains solid. Each bullet meets the target with trained precision.

The Russians’ methods of attack are becoming more creative. But we’re more violent. More calculated. We know exactly where to hit them and when.

I’ve killed dozens of those slimy fucks since I walked away from Emily. The distraction is needed but it barely tames the ache in my chest.

She hasn’t returned to the estate since she left.

Not once.

Last night, I overheard Declan mention that she’s been spending more time with Ryan. I know I pushed her toward it, but it doesn’t lessen the hurt.

Growing up around the Irish Mafia, I’ve always found a sort of peace with pouring my frustration into shooting a gun. The control and concentration cause my mind to blank, and I focus solely on hitting my target.

But now? Nothing but Emily brings me peace.

And I let her go.

It eats away at my heart that she is going to build a life with someone who isn’t me.

Bang!

The head of the target explodes into hundreds of broken pieces. Changing my stance, I hit the one next to it. Then the next. And the next.

Tonight, Conor is having a banquet to announce her engagement to Ryan. I’ve tried finding an assignment to avoid being present, but I'm being forced to watch because Conor knows what Emily means to me.

Rhys shakes his head at me in disappointment any chance he can, and it pisses me the fuck off. Fuck him. Fuck Conor.

I drop the pistol and move to a semi-automatic rifle. I fire until the magazine is empty, and the barrel is hot.

“Liam.”

Turning my head, I peer over my shoulder at the sound of Declan’s voice. He nods his head for me to follow.

I set the rifle down and then stride to his side.

“What’s up?” I ask as we continue down the path toward the guardhouse.

“Looks like you need something to get your anger out. We’re training.”

I open my mouth to deny his assumption but quickly shut it when he side-eyes me.

The guardhouse is a large apartment building on the far end of the property. It houses any of the guards that don’t have houses or apartments of their own.

Me included.

The building has a massive sparring gym on the lowest level that is used for hand-to-hand combat training.

As we enter the space, my senses are invaded by the smell of sweat, rubber mats, and blood. The sounds of the men grunting and punches landing on bare skin fill my ears.

“Let’s head to the mat on the far end.” Declan slaps a hand against my back and then strides to the mat he indicated. I follow close behind.

Once we’ve reached the end of the mat, Declan and I tug off our shirts and boots. As we walk to the center, some of the other men take notice and make their way over.

Declan bounces on the balls of his feet with his fists up – protecting his face.

“Alright, Liam, let’s see what you got.” He says in a mocking tone.

I twist my neck from side to side, roll my shoulders, and take my fighting stance. My fists are loose when I raise them to just below my nose.