There's gotta be another way out
I've been stuck in a cage with my doubt
I've tried forever getting out on my own
But every time I do this my way
I get caught in the lies of the enemy
I lay my troubles down
I'm ready for you now
- Ashes Remain - On My Own

"Do you ever regret it?"

Dropping her lighter onto the kitchen table, Catherine pulled the bowl out of the bong and inhaled hot, thick smoke. She tipped her head back, raising blonde eyebrows at Eddie as she blew out a cloud.

She coughed. "You're gonna have to be a little more specific."

"The Ra." Eddie reached across, taking the bong from her. He shook out the ashes from the bowl onto the table, repacking it.

Catherine sank into the chair, her muscles melting like butter. She licked her lips, watching Eddie as he ripped. The situation in and of itself was a trip for her—baked out of her mind in America, with Eddie Hayes asking if she regretted the very thing that's defined her entire existence.

"Do you?"

"Honestly—" Eddie took a swig of water— "yeah. Sometimes I do."

After the evening she had with Liam, digging even deeper into the last fifteen years of her life didn't sound enjoyable. All she wanted in retrospect was to savor the last remaining hours of her quasi-freedom before going back to doting wife and mother.

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. I mean, it's destroyed my life, but yet I can't imagine how things would be if I hadn't taken that stupid fucking oath."

"Freedom. We'd have our freedom."

"Freedom's what we're fighting for."

"That's not what I mean."

Catherine's jaw locked, awkwardly shifting in the chair. Her stomach knotted; his mask was slipping, and she wasn't sure if even he realized it was happening. "What do you mean?"

"This isn't about a unified Ireland anymore—everyone knows that. It's about bowing down to Jimmy fucking O'Phelan."

"Well, I can't disagree with that."

A thick silence fell between them, the euphoria of their highs dissipating thanks to the heavy conversation.

"What are you even doing with him?" There's an angry tremor in Eddie's voice, the vibrations of his words cutting through Catherine like a dagger. "He's a fucking arsehole."

"He's the father of my eldest child."

Eddie grabbed the bong again, taking another rip. "So? What… do you think keeping him around just because he's your kid's da makes you self-righteous or something?"

Catherine bit the inside of her cheek. She'd never seen this side of Eddie before. Combative, talking out of his ass. She wasn't sure if she liked it.

"Now who's being an arsehole."

"I'm just speaking the truth. You're a good person, Catherine. You don't deserve him. Someone needs to put a fucking bullet between his eyes for what he's done to you."

Squeezing her eyes shut, fresh tears seeped from the corners. The memory of that mild Christmas afternoon when her fate had been sealed for good flashed vividly in her mind. Over a decade later, the feeling of Jimmy's hands gliding along her sides, and the white crusty stains on her bedsheets serving as evidence of the greatest mistake she's ever made all seemed like it was only yesterday.

Her chest tightened and ached, and it was as if someone dropped a hundred-pound weight right on top of her.

Catherine couldn't breathe. The images of Jimmy taking her virginity morphing into the cold, rainy night she'd been in the Republic with Dessie and she shot the police officer who'd stumbled upon them digging up a cache of weapons. Her hands shook, just as they did when she held them to the officer's neck to slow the bleeding.

She saw Darragh's mutilated face—those bloodied rosary beads resting in the empty sockets where his eyes had once been.

The wretched sobs of Seamus' widow and children at his funeral spliced her brain.

Ian's cheerful voice pierced her eardrums.

When she opened her eyes again, Catherine wished she hadn't. She looked at her hands, almost making herself sick to see them dripping with blood.

So much blood.

"I've never been a good person!" she sobbed, wiping her hands on her jeans, desperate to clean them. "Every person who has come into my life, I've stabbed in the bleedin' back—" she hiccuped— "beca—because of him! Liam's right… everything he said tonight, it's God's honest truth. What've I done, Eddie?!"

He blinked slowly at her. Catherine sensed he was too high to process the load of emotional baggage she unintentionally dumped into his lap. But it's his fault for even bringing the Ra up in the first place. She'd been a ticking bomb, years of repressed emotions finally bubbling to the surface and exploding all thanks to one stupid question.

Do you ever regret it?

Yeah, she fucking did.

"Hey," Eddie slipped out of his chair, rounding the table, and took a seat beside Catherine. He grabbed her shirt, pulling her close so he could wrap his arms around her. They were far from friends, yet being so close to him made her feel safe and warm. Catherine buried her face in his chest, sobbing. "This life… it has the power to seriously distort a person's sense of what's right and wrong. You're not to blame for that. The two of us—we never stood a goddamn chance and followed in the footsteps of our fathers. None of this is your fault, Catherine."

"Aye, it is." Picking up her head, Catherine wiped the mascara tears from her cheeks. "I'm a grown woman; I know the difference between right and wrong and still didn't walk away even when I had the chance. Everything I've done is bloody wrong, and I still did it because—"

The only reason she refused to defy orders is because she's the fucking coward. Not Liam. Her. Catherine feared Jimmy's wrath more than she feared the Devil himself. Pleasing Jimmy became her life mission ever since she was a little girl, terrified, watching from the backseat of Chibs' car as Jimmy beat a man half to death in the middle of the road for not paying back a debt on time.

Eddie blurted, "You're scared… of Jimmy."

"No, I'm not," she lied.

Getting up, Eddie swiped the empty glass and brought it to the sink to refill. On his way back, he grabbed a wad of paper towels and handed them both to Catherine. She thanked him, chugging the cold water to relive her serious case of cottonmouth, then dried her tears.

"You really are, though. I am, too, if that's any consolation."

"You are?"

"Aye. Everyone bloody is. The man is so goddamn unhinged I once saw him put a bloke through a plate-glass window because Fi burnt his morning tea."

"No," Catherine sniffled, blowing her nose. "That was my fault… I had a screaming toddler with an ear infection on my hands and I'd forgotten about it. I had a wee black eye for three weeks after that one; never did it again, to say the least."

Wrestling the dampened paper towel from her, Eddie tossed it to the side. He grabbed Catherine's cheeks in both his hands. "What happened in the past isn't your fault. You were brainwashed, made to believe no one'll be as good to you as Jimmy makes you think he is. You're married to a proper bloke now. If you really want penance for the sins you've committed, Catherine, you'll let Jimmy go and let Dessie handle the fallout. If you show everyone you're ready to move on for good, you'll have the six counties behind you."

Dessie.

Fresh tears welled in her eyes again. Never in her life did she miss someone as much as she missed Dessie. Her rock and confident. The man who always made Hell somehow feel like Heaven.

"Really?"

"Really," said Eddie. "He's a bleedin' rabid dog. He needs to be put down."

Catherine cocked a smirk. "You said it, not me."

She looked at her watch; it was almost midnight.

"Thank you, Eddie."

He furrowed his brow. "For what?"

"For not being afraid to tell me what I needed to hear."

"It's the skunk—it clears me head." Eddie got up and rummaged through the cupboards. "I'm fucking starving; you want me to whip us up some grub? I can make champ."

"Nah. Appreciate the offer, but I'm gonna lie down. I'm fucking knackered, so I am."

Eddie nodded.

Collecting her phone and cigarettes, Catherine headed to her bedroom and closed the door. She tossed her stuff onto the mattress, then stripped from her clothes.

Once in a fresh pair of underwear, she pulled on Dessie's Celtics sweatshirt. The worn cotton was soft against her flushed skin, reminding her of Dessie's fingers daintily caressing the column of her spine every night to lull her asleep. Tugging on the collar, Catherine dug her nose into it as she deeply inhaled.

His scent was gone.

She would have cried, if it hadn't been for the fact she cried the last of her tears.

With her iPod in hand, Catherine flopped down on the lumpy mattress. Replaying the last conversation she had with Dessie, Catherine didn't want to be the one to break and call first. But in that moment, none of the bullshit between them seemed to matter. She needed him—she needed him more than she's ever needed anyone before. Even if it was a lie, she just needed to hear him say everything was going to be okay.

They're going to be okay.

Reaching for her phone, Catherine scrolled through her contacts until she found his name. The line rang and rang, and rang. Bile burned the back of her throat, a million senecios running through her already spent mind. All she could imagine was him curled up in their bed, his brawny arms wrapped around another woman.

It went to voicemail.

Catherine wouldn't bring herself to hang up, even after the beep.

She cleared her throat.

"Dess, it's me… Cate… obvi." She took a shuddering breath, cringing at her own awkwardness. "At the risk of sounding like a complete and utter saddo, I just wanted to say that I miss you. I love you… so much. So fucking much. And I'm—I'm sorry for everything." She choked on the knot in her throat. "I need you, Dess. I really need you—I can't do this anymore. I'll be home soon, and it's gonna be different this time, I promise. But I get it if you don't believe me. Please the wee boys a kiss for me? Call me… if you want to, I guess. Cheers."

Ending the call, Catherine tossed her phone to the foot of the bed and heaved herself backward. Her head hit the pillow, her muscles sinking.

The four fat bong rips were hitting at once, making her body feel warm and fuzzy. Catherine grabbed her iPod and untangled the headphones, slipping them into her ears.

Before she pressed the shuffle button, her phone buzzed.

Bolting up, Catherine crawled to the foot of the bed and fumbled with her phone, opening the text message from Dessie.

00:10

I love you. Get some sleep, and I'll call you later. Getting the boys ready to meet your da for breakfast. Big changes are about to happen. Trust me?

Catherine replied,

00:11

Always.

For the time since landing in Nevada, Catherine felt like she could breathe. At least Dessie was talking to her, civilly, again.

Maybe all hope wasn't lost.

There was just one last bridge she needed to mend before heading home. Chibs.

Rolling over, Catherine set her phone and iPod on the floor, getting off the mattress to flip off the light. As the room fell into darkness, the jarring crash of what sounded like a door being kicked in, startled Catherine.

"ATF! Put your fucking hands up—Now!"