Chapter Seventeen
Moments passed. Orla opened her eyes to find Mya shaking her shoulders.
“Can you get up?”
“Where’s Lorcan? Big bird. They had knives. You were right.” Orla’s voice slurred with the effects of a concussion.
“Only the last part of what you said counts. Snap back and get up, or you’ll lose your man.”
Orla’s eyes flung wide open. Lorcan. Loud bangs. They were gun shots. She pushed herself up, forced away the dizziness, and looked to the side of her. Lorcan’s body was sprawled on the wet ground, lifeless.
“Oh no. No . . .” she cried and bulldozed over the dead body lying next to her to get to Lorcan. “Oh no.” It had stopped raining, but his body was soaking wet and as cold as steel.
“He’s not dead. Yet,” Mya said. “Will you help me get him to the car?”
Orla nodded. She
