Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 93463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Now,” I say coldly, “why the fuck did you pull me out of my bed in the middle of the goddamn night?”
I’ve walked into the warehouse mid-meeting, summoned by Ashland.
I jerk my head at the cooling body on the floor. “Lorcan. Clean it up. Fast.”
I don’t like killing. But I hate my wife being disrespected even more.
This meeting wasn’t mine. They called it. They tested me. It wasn’t subtle, and it wasn’t smart. Orchestrated by Da and Branson’s old guard, no doubt. They wanted to see if I’d gone soft. If marriage, if love, had weakened me. They wanted to prod the heir and see if he’d bite.
Well, I did.
And the blood’s still fresh.
The body’s still bleeding out, and I keep my voice calm, like I’m discussing wine instead of murder. “Now, men,” I say, “why the hell are we all here?”
No one answers right away. Cavin leans forward eventually, slow and deliberate. He’s built like a brick wall, thick arms covered in ink. When he speaks, people listen.
“Wasn’t meant to be a test, sir,” he says, flicking his eyes toward the body without flinching. “But… there’s been talk.”
I don’t blink. I wait. “Hmm?”
He clears his throat. “Some of the younger lads… ones who don’t remember what it took to build this empire… they’ve been wondering. Whispering. They see you married. Gone for days at a time. Think you’ve gone soft.”
“I’d like to think I’ve proven I haven’t,” I say.
Cavin nods once. “Maybe they just needed a reminder. Bit of a culling, aye?”
Definitely.
The silence after that is thick. Nobody breathes too loud. They all just learned that proximity won’t save you.
“Now,” I say, resting my hands on the cold metal table, knuckles wide and scarred. “Let’s make one thing clear.”
Every man straightens. Nobody speaks.
“I’m the heir. Not Branson. If any of you are loyal to him, you tell me now. I’ve made it clear I don’t trust him. I’m loyal to my father.”
I draw my gun and place it on the table. “I won’t shoot you. But this is your only chance to walk away.”
They stay still.
“Where’ve I been?” I ask, scanning the room. “Cleaning up the messes none of you could stomach. Making deals your fathers never dared dream of. And I married a woman strong enough to stand beside me while I build something bigger.”
I nod to Zoya.
“She is not a weakness. She is your queen. And you will treat her as such.”
Cavin gives a slow, understanding nod. He’s always understood the bigger picture.
“You think I’m distracted?” I ask. “No. I’ve been focused. Belfast is ours. Dublin’s folding. And there are men across the sea waiting to kneel at our table.”
I scan the room again. “But if any of you want to play petty kingdom, whisper behind my back, test me, I’ll bury every last one of you and rebuild from the ground up.”
Another silence.
And this time, they know it’s their test.
I start pointing.
“You,” I say to Daire. “Ride out. Reinforce Belfast. Cavin runs point. No movement without his say-so.”
“Aye. Yes, sir,” comes instantly.
I round the table and stop behind Zoya’s chair, placing both hands on her shoulders. She doesn’t flinch.
“My wife will be protected. And anyone who forgets that won’t get a second chance.”
A chorus of “Yes, sir” follows.
But one voice cuts through. “And the Russians, sir?”
I turn my eyes on him. “What about them?”
“They murdered half our crew. You’re saying there’s no retribution?”
I press my lips into a thin, bloodless line. “Those responsible will pay. That’s a promise. But if you trust me, I will not lead you astray.” My voice cuts through the silence. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” I nod. “Then we’re done here. For now.”
I glance down at Zoya. “You ready, love?”
She stands. And together, we walk out of the warehouse, leaving behind silence, a body cooling on the floor, and a room full of men with questions I’m not ready to answer.
Not yet.
Chapter 24
ZOYA
The next morning, when I wake, the house is already quiet. Seamus is gone. No note. No sound. I sit up, frowning, wondering where he’s gone. Did he even go to bed last night?
I pad downstairs barefoot, slowly, half hoping I don’t run into anyone else. This isn’t my home, not really. Not yet. But I need to start treating it like it is, at least for now. We’ll be here a while, I think.
From the corridor, I glance out the wide window facing east. The sun is unforgiving, blazing and relentless, and there on the lawn, I see him. Seamus. With… I squint. Ashland? Their heads are bowed close together.
They don’t see me.
Their posture is intimate, conspiratorial. Ashland laughs, tossing his head back like he just heard something hysterical. But Seamus? He doesn’t laugh. His hands are jammed deep into his pockets, his jaw set, his mouth a hard, grim line.