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That our family was cursed.
My hand balled into a fist, and before I knew it, I had punched him square in the face. The force sent Dusty reeling back against his chair, a string of curses pouring from his lips.
“I wouldn’t get smart with my brother if you want to make it out of here alive,” Kieran said, stepping out of the shadows.
Dusty sneered, blood streaming from his nose. “What’s the matter, Callahan? Can’t handle the truth?” His broken words were layered with bitterness.
“Enough,” I growled, digging my finger into a fresh bruise on Dusty’s arm. He winced, but his defiant gaze still held mine. “You will show respect or I’m going to make you wish you were never born.”
His eyes flicked to Kieran then back to me, something shifty and calculating in them. That was when I realized what it meant. He had nothing to lose anymore. He’d made his bed and now he was choosing to lie in it.
As Dusty’s defiance escalated, a sour taste crept up into my mouth. The humidity of the room seemed to thicken, sticking to my skin as the weight of his words pressed into my chest. This didn’t feel like just another debt collection—it felt like a reckoning.
“Look at you,” Dusty wheezed. “Quick to raise a hand, just like your father.”
“What did you say?” My voice was dangerously low as I asked the question. A bitter taste filled my mouth, bile rising within me, making me nauseous.
“You think your mom died in a tragic accident? Please,” Dusty’s voice was quiet. “Please. I saw her black and blue more times than I can count. Why do you think Malachy Callahan keeps being widowed? All of his wives share one thing in common.”
Dusty’s words were like poisoned daggers, slicing me open with each syllable. I reeled back as if he’d physically struck me, his claim spiraling around my mind. But there was something in his eyes, a twisted pleasure that told me he wasn’t lying. My heart pounded in my chest—violently, urgently—as the truth began to spread through me like venom.
“Shut your fucking mouth,” Kieran growled from behind me. A warning. But Dusty simply laughed.
“You know it’s true.” Dusty’s voice held a bitter triumph as he continued. “All of them beaten, all of them broken. All of them dead. Your mum, Kieran’s mum, Liam’s mum. By your precious father.”
I felt bile rise up in my throat. The room spun. This was too much. I stumbled back, my hand gripping the back of a chair for support.
Kieran moved to my side, steadying me. His face was pale. I could see the shock registering in his eyes, but he fought to keep his emotions at bay.
“Dusty, you’re a lying asshole,” Kieran spat, his voice shaking with barely suppressed rage. “No fucking honor with you. Just pay your debt. You don’t want to die for less than a hundred grand.”
But Dusty just kept laughing, a twisted, gravelly sound that echoed around the room. “Sometimes I forget you’re both still children,” he said. “I’ve known you since you were babies. I knew that the moment Kieran brought me to this room, I wasn’t getting out alive. This isn’t about honor, Kieran. This is about your father wanting to send a message. Everyone needs to know exactly how scary Mallachy Callahan is, so it’s better to clip someone who people see as a threat, a close ally. To think I considered him a brother. You watch out for Kieran, Tristan. He’ll betray you the same way your father has betrayed me.”
I turned back to him, my fists balled at my sides. I wanted to strike him again. I wanted to wipe the smug grin from his bloodied face. But something held me back. He was baiting us, picking at our family’s darkest secrets to get under our skin.
Dusty leered up at me then, his gaze steady as he spat out his final words.
“Your father is a curse, Tristan. And you...you’re just his puppet.”
The room fell silent as Dusty’s biting remark echoed in my ears. I could feel a vein throb in my temple and the cold emptiness of his words threatened to drown me. I glanced over at Kieran, whose face was even paler now, his lips pressed into a tight line.
“Enough,” Kieran muttered under his breath, stepping forward. I could see him clenching his jaw. The balled fists at his side were white from strain.
Ignoring him, Dusty turned to me. “Your father’s sins will be your end, Tristan.”
“Says you,” I said, my voice hard as I leveled a cold look at him. “Except you won’t live long enough to see it.”
My hand shot out and clamped around his throat. His eyes grew wide as he choked, raspy breaths straining to escape his lips. The roar of my pulse filled my ears.
His voice was strangled when he sputtered out. “Tristan...”
“Should’ve just paid your debt, Dusty,” I cut in.
As Dusty’s breathing grew more rugged under my grip, a distant part of me wondered about if this should feel so easy. But it didn’t matter. Dusty had disrespected me. He had disrespected my brother. He had disrespected my father.
He wasn’t getting out of this alive.
“Do it,” Kieran urged, his voice barely a whisper. His hand rested on my shoulder, gripping me tightly with the anticipation of the imminent act.
