Boston Blood

Sixty two

Cillian knelt beside Bridget and held her cold hand. The pain was indescribable and he felt like he was about to collapse because his lungs couldn't seem to work. He cried harder than he had ever allowed himself to cry in his life, gently rubbing the soft skin of her palm. "Bridget, I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I should have been here. I should have stopped them. Please forgive me, please." He couldn't believe this was happening. Bridget was like a sister to him, hell she had been like a mother to him for most of his adult life and he couldn't stop the rage from taking over. As he sat there he swore to himself that he'll make Aidan pay for what he's done. He thought of Lucy, poor sweet Lucy, out in the hall in Bill's arms and an overwhelming feeling of sorrow made him dry heave. His mind and body were on fire as his thoughts then drifted to Frankie. He was petrified that he was too late, that Aidan had already gotten the lost and now Frankie was lying dead somewhere too. His heart was broken and he was afraid, ashamed and utterly lost.

Cillian roared in anguish as Michael and Mac sprinted around the apartment with their weapons raised. Michael's radio was radio, informing them that the cops had the building surrounded. "Fuck! They're not here! Where the fuck are they! Mac we have to find out where that storage facility is. They have to be there. It has to be somewhere close. Start looking up any storage facility within ten miles. Call every single one of them and ask if they've seen her. We have to find her. Fuck!" Michael punched the wall, causing a small hole to appear in the plaster as his radio screeched once more. They were coming in and Cillian's time was up. "Mac, I'm going to try to hold them off. I'll tell them we arrived on the scene and that the disturbance has been resolved. Head downstairs now and see who's out there. See if there's anyone we trust but keep your mouth shut, got it?"

Mac nodded and brushed past Cillian who was now half lying on top of Bridget's stiff, cold body. He could hear Lucy whimpering and calling for him in the hall and tried to pull himself together. How was he going to tell her? How do you tell someone, a child, who has already lost her parents that their sister is dead? He wiped his eyes and kissed Bridget's forehead and let out a slow shaky breath as he closed her eyes gently.

"Stay o-, outside baby, I'll be right out. Bill, don't let her come in h-, here." He could barely get the sentence out. He couldn't recognise his own voice. It sounded foreign, like it belonged to someone else. Michael was speaking into the radio as he crouched down beside Cillian. His hand was on Cillian's shoulder and his face was grave. "Cillian, I am so sorry for your loss. I really am but we're out of time. I need you to try to think if Frankie has ever mentioned where that storage facility is. Has she ever said anything? Even a general location?"

Michael sounded desperate as his hand squeezed Cillian's shoulder tighter. He recoiled a few inches when he heard Cillian scoff. An angry, dark laugh escaped his trembling lips and he shrugged Michael's hand off him. "You really fucking think if I didn't have any fucking idea where they were heading that I wouldn't be there right now? That I wouldn't be there, waiting to fucking rip their hearts right of of their chests? Of course she never told me! She fucking hates me Michael. All I've done is hurt people, hurt her. It's all my fault."

Fresh tears stung his eyes as he stood up. He couldn't let his eyes look at Bridget anymore. He felt too sick, too guilty and too ashamed. He should have been here.

"Cillian, I know you've done some bad shit but you're a good guy deep down. Bridget knew that. You heard Bill. She saved him. And Frankie knows you're a good person, I'm sure. I know she cares about yo-," Michael's sentence was cut short when his body was slammed against the wall. Cillian was on his feet, holding him by his collar. He's lost it. Hearing Michael try to console him, to make him feel better by telling him he was good was the nail in the coffin. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't fucking deserve Michael's kindness. He was the reason Bridget was dead and Frankie was next and he didn't know what to do. He was broken and Frankie was dead, there was no coming back.