Thy Kingdom Come (Deliver Us From Evil Trilogy Book One)

by Monica James

  What does that mean?

  When she lowers her eyes, ashamed, I understand that Hugh was the one who whipped her and did so much more than I expected.

  “Ya bleedin’ fucker,” Uncle Sean spits, his arm never wavering from Brody.

  Five men appear from the bushes, surrounding us, guns raised.

  Uncle Sean closes his eyes, defeated.

  This was never an ambush; this was a suicide mission. We thought we had the upper hand, but the Doyles were always ten steps ahead. This was supposed to work, and it would have if they weren’t tipped off. I still don’t know by whom.

  “Okay then, let it be me.” Uncle Sean lowers his gun and raises his hands in the air.

  Brody laughs, and I have no idea why.

  “Naw, I think not, Sean. Somethin’ else is headed yer way.”

  It happens in the blink of an eye.

  Brody fires, and Uncle Sean drops to his knees before collapsing onto his front with a thud.

  I stare at my uncle and my dad who lay feet apart, slaughtered by the Doyles, but the ironic thing is, they aren’t to blame—I am.

  If only I’d let matters be and not pursued who killed my ma, then things would have been different. If I never went to Dublin, then none of this would have happened. But the bloodshed around us, it’s my doing.

  All of it is.

  So many have suffered because of me…this is my fault.

  Cian elbows Liam in the stomach, but the masked men ascend on him, beating him and Rory while Brody stands back with a smile.

  He wants me to see what I caused. The mayhem I brought onto the people I love.

  When one of the men pulls Babydoll’s hair and yanks her head back, licking along her neck, I know what I have to do. I hurt the ones I love and it’s time I stopped it. Stopped it all.

  “Ya won, Brody. Let them go,” I coolly say, standing tall, regardless of my wounds. “Promise me they’ll be all right.”

  Brody orders the man who has Babydoll to let her go.

  “Ye ’ave my word.”

  “She gets everythin’ ya promised her?”

  “I swear it.”

  Babydoll tries to fight, but the man grips her waist, holding her back. “No! Let me go. Don’t do this, Punky! You’ll go to jail for a very long time.”

  I ignore her and focus on Cian and Rory. “I’m sorry I got ya involved.”

  “Y’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for,” Cian says, tears in his eyes. He knows we can’t win this, not with Uncle Sean and Connor dead.

  Uncle Sean thought he had men on his side, but if only I’d told him sooner about Ronan and my theory about the traitors among us, he would have known the men fighting with him weren’t with us—they were against us.

  “My da—” Rory starts, but is soon cut off.

  “Yer da will suffer the same way as Connor Kelly if ye retaliate. We know who they are. We were willin’ to let matters be, but then ye had to stick yer nose in business that didn’t concern ya,” Brody states confidently.

  This is our punishment for thinking we could outsmart a world we know nothing about.

  “There is so much ye don’t know, Puck. Maybe one day I’ll tell ya.”

  “Should we head?” Liam asks as the sirens get closer and closer.

  “That’s up to yer brother.”

  Cian and Rory look between us slowly, confused. But I don’t have the time to explain.

  “Aye, head on. I’ll deal with the peelers.”

  “NO!” Babydoll cries, running over to me. “Punky, no! Fight. Tell the police the truth.”

  “Who are they going to believe, I do wonder?” I say, looking at Brody. “And I don’t do this, yer ma, she dies. I won’t allow that. Y’ve a chance to help her, and I’ve a chance to make this right.”

  “I’ll n-never stop fighting for y-you,” she cries, throwing her arms around me.

  I hug her back, allowing myself this comfort because I won’t feel it ever again. “I’m doin’ this so we’re even. But I don’t want to see ye again. No matter what ye did, ya lied to me, and now I have the deaths of my family on my hands. I cannot forgive ya. And ye shouldn’t forgive me.”

  I gently push her away, gesturing to Brody to take her away.

  “Punky?” she questions, violently ripping free when one of the men try to drag her toward the van. “This isn’t your fault!”

  But I don’t want to hear it.

  “Ya save her fuckin’ ma,” I order Brody. “Whatever money she needs, ya give it to her. If she dies, I’ll tell the peelers everythin’.”

  Brody nods. “And Belfast? Who rules now?”

  Cian and Rory avert their gazes because even though they and their dads are involved, this business only succeeded because of the Kellys. Now that the Kellys are no more, they know it won’t be the same. Look what Brody was able to achieve with Connor and Uncle Sean alive.

  With them dead, the strongest links in our chain, we don’t stand a chance.

  “It’s yours.”

  Brody tips his face toward the heavens, inhaling in victory because this is what he has always wanted—Belfast.

  I’ll never find out who his partner was, but it doesn’t matter. The people I love are dead. This is the only thing I can do to ensure that the ones left standing don’t suffer because of me.

  “Punky, we’ll find a way,” Cian says, rushing forward and hugging me. “I love ye, brother.”

  I hug him back numbly. “Look after the twins for me.”

  Look after the twins for me…

  I now understand why Connor asked this of me—he called the peelers because he was going to take the fall. He knew he couldn’t win against Brody. He knew that his empire had crumbled because he let it. But his faith in me allows me to see that he believed I could repair the damage he had done.

  And I would have.

  He allowed the traitor to bring our kingdom down, brick by brick, and him going to prison was the punishment he would accept for his crimes. But he never anticipated that something he thought he wasn’t capable of would bring him down—his love for me.

  His death, Uncle Sean’s death; they’re on me.

  “My dad will get his lawyer—”

  “No,” I argue, consciousness slipping away. “Ye leave it be. Too much blood has been shed and for what? You live yer life, the life ye deserve, away from this, away from me. Mind this for me.”

  Digging into my pocket, I give him my ma’s brooch. I don’t need it anymore.

  “I won’t let ye rot in prison!” Cian shakes his head stubbornly, as does Rory, but after today, I won’t see them ever again. They’ll fight me, but after a while, they’ll forget.

  And I want them to.

  Rory puts his arm around Babydoll, who sobs violently, offering the comfort I cannot.

  “I’ll be seein’ ye then,” Brody says, snapping his fingers.

  Everyone hustles to command.

  Cian and Rory don’t fight as they know the war is over. The corpses around us confirm this. “Ye make sure they get a grand burial.”

  Cian nods, a tear trickling down his cheek when he looks at my da and Uncle Sean.

  The remaining men disappear into the bushlands while Liam forces Cian, Rory, and Babydoll into the van. If this were some romance film, she’d turn over her shoulder to look at me. But this isn’t, so she doesn’t.

  This is real life. My life which I fucked up by my own hand.

  Brody is the last to leave. “I promise ye, when the time is right, I’ll tell ya everythin’.”

  “Fuck you,” I reply, not interested in anything he has to say. “Keep those I love safe. That’s all I want from ya.”

  Brody smirks as he lights a cigar. “Ye really are a Doyle.”

  “Naw.” I shake my head with a grin as I steal his cigar. “I’m not. Ye may be my dad, but I’ll always be a Kelly. Don’tcha ever mistake me for anythin’ but that.”

  Brody’s confidence simmers, as he reads the warning for what it is. If he cr
osses me, I will tell the peelers everything. Blood or not, I’m hunting him.

  “Aye. I understand. Yer to make sure yer dead to the life ya once knew. No visitors, no contact with anyone. This is the only way it’ll work. For me to start afresh, y’ve got to be gone.”

  What he means is for our colleagues to want to deal with him, they have to know I’m not coming back and that he’s the only one in charge.

  “How can I trust y’ll keep to yer word?”

  “I’m sure y’ll hear otherwise if not.”

  He’s right. I’m sure the officers would love to tell me how my loved ones died by the hands of a Doyle if that ever happened.

  “Fair play.”

  “If I hear y’ve gone back on yer word, they’ll all pay. That includes those wains Connor loved. The deal will be off.”

  “I heard ya the first time,” I reply firmly, but he has nothing to worry about. I’m doing them a favor by removing myself from their lives. I wish I could see the twins grow, but I cannot.

  He nods, understanding this as goodbye. I don’t know what he has planned, but that’s not my business anymore. He walks away, taking my kingdom with him. When the van drives away, I stare into the distance, bidding goodbye to my family, bidding goodbye to me.

  When I can no longer see it, I hobble toward the lorry and boost myself into the back and take a seat. The vegetables behind me are hiding £200,000 of drugs. The sirens grow closer before eventually, I see a convoy of cars coming over the hill.

  I calmly smoke my cigar, awaiting my doom.

  “Hands where I can see them!”

  “Fucking hell, it’s a massacre.”

  “We’re gonna need backup.”

  That’s all I hear as I sit, laughing maniacally at the carnage I caused.

  “Get on yer knees!” Chief Constable Moore orders as he yanks me from the lorry.

  The arsehole who was manhandling Babydoll at the party is on my other side. “Now ya know who I am, ya dirty wee hallion,” he says, spitting on me. “Check the lorry, boys. See what’s onboard.”

  “I’ll tell ya what’s onboard,” I say as I’m forced to my knees. “Drugs, and a quare amount.”

  “Are ye thick, lad? Why would ya tell me this?” asks the chief constable.

  When the peelers look at Connor and Uncle Sean, I accept my fate. “’Cause I’m the one responsible for all of this. I killed my uncle and dad because they got in the way. This is all on me.”

  “That’s not what we heard.”

  “Well, ya heard wrong. D’ye see anyone else here? D’ye see anyone left standin’?” I pose with a grin.

  Chief Constable Moore knows I’m lying, but a haul such as this will make his name notorious. And with no one else to blame, this closed case means an easy win for him and the police. He put an end to the infamous Kellys and their illegal dealings.

  There is no justice in this world, just survival of the fittest.

  “Puck Connor Kelly, yer under arrest…” The chief constable handcuffs me, reading me my rights while I tip my face to the heavens, finally free, finally saving the people I love.

  One Year Later

  “Oi, y’ve a visitor.”

  The light burns me because the darkness is where I’ve slept for the last…I don’t know how many days? Months? I’ve lost count.

  I’ve no windows, just a door and concrete walls. Where I was sent is not a normal prison. I’m locked away with a cesspool of degenerates, ensuring I pay for my crimes in the most heinous of ways. This tiny cell has become my home, where a monster has found solace in silence. Claustrophobia doesn’t bother me anymore.

  The day I surrendered was the day I let go of my humanity and succumbed to the demons. They were always going to win. This was always my fate.

  I didn’t want a trial. I admitted to everything, confessed to the crimes I did commit. Chief Constable Moore warned me of the repercussions, but I didn’t need a lecture—I knew I was going away for a very long time.

  Not only did I have the drug distribution charge, but the trail of dead bodies had the judge punishing me in ways I wanted. I will never see the light of day again.

  But I don’t think about the past. I don’t want to. I don’t want to reminisce on the good ole days because there are none. The people I left behind are better off without me because people have a tendency to die when they’re around me.

  And besides, the person I once was is no more. The person they remember died the day I surrendered. I wish for them to remember me that way because this person I’ve grown into is not someone I want anyone to meet.

  “Tell ’em to fuck off.”

  The door slams shut.

  Four Years Later

  “Are ya goin’ to tell me who did this to ye?”

  Turning my cheek, I shift on the soft bed as I’m not used to luxuries such as this anymore. But I suppose I’m not used to a lot of things like walking without chains binding my feet and wrists. And using a real fork.

  Those are a thing of the past, a past I’ve forgotten because that world is dead to me, and in its place is this—hell.

  The system didn’t know what to do with a young offender like me as my crimes were unlike anything they’d seen before. They wanted to put me into a YOC, but at the insistence of the chief constable, I was thrown into Riverbend House—a prison reserved for the depraved.

  On the outside, things may seem “normal,” but on the inside, it’s anything but. I’ve been beaten, starved, and tortured, and no one does anything about it because no one cares. We’re merely playthings to the officers and other prisoners.

  It’s kill or be killed, which is why I’m sporting a five-inch gash across my guts. I’m no one’s little bitch, and when a new inmate tried to make me his, I slit his fucking throat.

  I’ve got nothing to lose out there, but everything to gain in here by reinforcing that no one fucks with Puck Kelly. I suppose my reputation is notorious because what I did five years ago shook Northern Ireland. Tales have been spun, but at the root of it was the truth—that I killed my father and uncle in cold blood.

  Even though I didn’t pull the trigger, I was still responsible.

  I’ve heard some ridiculous retellings from new prisoners trying to be my friend, but they were just bedtime stories mothers told their wains to frighten them. I was a basis of comparison.

  Ye don’t wanna end up like Punky Kelly, do ye now?

  Why let the truth get in the way of a good story?

  “Who’s Cara?” the nurse, Aoife, asks.

  I haven’t heard that name in so long, I’ve almost forgotten it. But the memories those four simple letters awaken have me remembering like it was only just yesterday.

  “My ma.”

  Aoife smiles—she’s too sweet to be working here. “Ya can’t be that bad if y’ve got yer ma’s name tattooed on yer knuckles.”

  I deadpan her. “Naw, I’m worse.”

  She pauses from stitching me up, her lower lip quivering. “I don’t believe it. There’s somethin’ different about ya.”

  “What don’tcha believe?”

  Her fingers tremble against my stomach.

  I know she likes me. I’ve been in this sickbay too many times to count, and each time, I see the way she looks at me. “The stories about ye. That ye killed thirty men with yer bare hands.”

  Laughing, I take great pleasure in seeing her turn a lovely scarlet. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a woman. The last woman was…

  Refusing to give way to those memories, I decide to make room for new ones, so they’re the only ones I remember from this moment going forward.

  “Ye shouldn’t believe everythin’ ya hear. It was twenty-five, but who’s countin’?” I reply, eyeing her up and down.

  She brushes a strand of brown hair behind her ear before slowly getting up and drawing the blind on the door. She then locks it.

  With her back pressed to the door, she plays coy, but I sit back, already topless, waiting for her to mak
e the next move.

  “Don’tcha tell anyone,” she says, slowly undoing the zipper on her white uniform. She’s wearing a black bra and matching underwear.

  “It’ll be our secret,” I assure, beckoning her over with my finger.

  She walks over to the bed, and if this were any other prison, there’d be a prison officer inside the room. But this is Riverbend House and anything goes. She peers down at me, licking her lips. With nothing but time on my hands, I work out a lot. I was muscular before, but now, I’ve grown into that body.

  She is beautiful, but she isn’t who I want. But who I want, I can never have.

  “C’mere,” I softly order, and Aoife obeys my command.

  She straddles me, and the feel of her on me is almost suffocating, but I wrap my arms around her waist, almost forgetting how soft a woman feels. When she tries to kiss me, I turn my cheek because I don’t want that sort of intimacy.

  Instead, I reach around and unhook her bra.

  Her tits bounce free, and I bend low, taking one in my mouth. She moans, rubbing herself against my cock. She quickly lowers my trousers and takes me into her mouth.

  I see stars because this feels fucking grand, but as I brush her hair aside so I can see her pretty pink lips take my cock in and out of her mouth, all I think about is how it isn’t her I want. She doesn’t rouse the hunger in my loins. She doesn’t get me rock-hard.

  There is only one doll who does, and the sick fucker that I am wishes Aoife was her. I wish my half-sister was sucking my cock, the pleasured sounds spilling from her sinful mouth.

  I’m disgusting, I know it, but I can’t help the way I feel, which is why I angrily lift Aoife and take her with me as I stand and slam her front to the wall. She doesn’t have a chance to object when I rip off her underwear and sink into her warm pussy from behind.

  When I hit her hard, she whimpers and arches her back. She wants more.

  I ride her long and hard, wishing I could fuck away the desire I feel for Babydoll, but it’ll never go away. I could have all the pussy in the world, and there’d only ever be one I want.