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The light came through the hospital window, illuminating the pale man lying in the bed. Ryan O’Reily paced the room. Memories from the past twenty-six years flooded his mind. They’d faced so much together, Tessie’s death, his father’s abuse, running the gang.
Cyril was as much a leader in the Bridget Street Gang as Ryan was at this point. The others looked up to Cyril, reacting more to a quiet word from him than a rampage from Ryan.
And that was all gone. Now there was nothing left but quiet words.
His brother would never be the same. There was nothing that the doctors could do.
Ryan knew he needed to get out of there, clear his head. He’d got in the car and drove, watching as everything outside his windows became a blur.