Then I dropped them in a pile on the coffee table in front of my father.
Dad stared at them like they might catch flame.
Owen shook his head. “Un-fucking-believable.”
“You never know.” My voice was level now. Almost peaceful in its resolve. “It could happen to you, too. And when it does, it’s going to kick your ass so hard that a broken nose is going to feel like a day at the fucking spa.”
I turned to leave.
“Ronan.” My father's voice was sharp. “If you walk out that door, there will be no one to protect you.”
I froze and spoke without turning around. “Protect me from what?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
When I finally did turn, like a Yoyo slowly being recoiled on its string, the answer was all over his face. Curiosity and fear played across the others’—all except Huntington, who was as hawkish as ever.
Dad was the only one who knew everything. Brendan knew some, of course, but he wasn’t even here. But my father was the one who had picked me up from the gutter after my first big bender. Had shown me one path where I was condemned to whatever consequences awaited me there—consequences he could easily enable. DUIs, charges for possession, maybe even intent to distribute. Maybe I should have been suspicious that my own father was less concerned that his kid was doing drugs and more interested in how to leverage that situation. But at the time, I just wanted to avoid prison. Or worse.
“This is what you’re cut out for,” he said the first time he brought me to Vegas to do his dirty work. “This is how you’ll be of use.”
Now he was threatening to blow over the whole house of cards if I stepped out of line.
And to my surprise… I felt nothing.
No fear. No loyalty to this family. No obligation to stay and endure and be the jester, the fixer, the fuck-up they all wanted, no, needed me to be.
All I felt was the space where those things used to be. And the place where something so much better, so much bigger had developed in just a few weeks.
Laney's eyes glowed in the back of my mind, as bright as any diadem of stars.
“Do your worst,” I told him. “I’d rather lose everything than lose her.”
This time, when I turned to the door, I kept going, catching glimpses of Owen’s naked shock and Huntington’s clear interest as I went.
Maybe I should have done more. Maybe I should have stayed, figured out how to combat the threat of my brother, or maybe the man who clearly wanted to ruin my family from within.
But I couldn’t find it in me to care any fucking more.
“Ronan!” Shea was perched on the edge of her seat, gripping the arms like she was physically stopping herself from following me.
I almost reached out. She was so young. Maybe it wasn’t too late for her to break free too.
“Please stay,” she called. Then, more hesitantly: “What do you think you’ll do now?”
Maybe not.
I straightened my shoulders with resolve. “The only thing that matters. I’m going to find my wife.”
33
TRUTH AND ITS HURTS
LANEY
It was nearly dinnertime. And I still had no idea what to do.
Dad and I had spent the day packing up anything personal from the shop. People from Blackguard would be coming tomorrow to take the remaining inventory, books, and anything else related to Meráki back to Boston. After that, Dad had decided to rent the retail space out to another owner until I decided whether to sell the building.
