At the head? Fucking Doyle.
I scoff. Well,fuck. Briar was right. Ronan’s plan failed, and he went running to his daddy for help. Pathetic.
The hair rises on the back of my neck, my instincts warning me of an impending attack. Maeve used to hate that about me—in those drills, I always knew when an attack was coming. I chalk it up to living with my father’s presence and being on the streets, which made me a bit more attuned to patterns of the world. Including feeling other people before seeing them.
Hand on my knife, I step to the side, a fist sailing past my shoulder.
Smirking, I catch Ronan’s blazing blue eyes and curled lip before kicking him in the stomach. He’s top-heavy and damn slow for a wannabe assassin, and he falls down the porch stairs.
Flat on his back, I jump down, looking at him.
He groans, rolling over, and I sigh, annoyed.
“No, please, take your time.” The prick of sunlight digs into my shoulders. “I’ve only been up for over twenty-four hours. But who’s counting?”
“Fucking Reaper,” he swears, getting to his hands and knees. “How did you find this place?”
Tsking, I kick his side and grin when I feel the crack. He groans, falling into the mud, but he can still breathe. Must not have fully broken his ribs—pity. I’ll have to try harder next time.
“No, no,” I say, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I’ll ask the questions.” Lifting him, I throw him into a pile of shovels packed with snow. The clatter of metal is loud, but there’s a shout from the cabin. It covers the noise.
Moaning, he peers up with half-closed eyes. “Did you really think you’d be able to kill Ace? Men three times her size piss their pants if they run into her on the street.”
He scoffs. “She doesn’t deserve her spot in the clan. Women can’t?—”
“If I hear women can’t lead one more time,” I say, wincing, as the words drag on my eardrums. My grin grows, and I smell hisfear saturate the air. “I will carve you up and make you look like a fucking snowman.”
He swallows loudly. “What if I told you she used an enemy to get her throne?”
Crouching low, I slide my knife out. “You don’t say.”
Ronan nods. “She got into bed with De Luca. The Board found the old will—she somehow had it changed. She was never supposed to lead the clan—Ferguson never wanted that.”
“She’s his heir,” I respond, watching the sweat fall from his brow. “It’s her right to lead.”
“Not unless the old captain had a different plan.”
Silence descends, and the snow chills my fingers. But I don’t lose my grip.
Exhaling, I wave my hand. “Do you plan on explaining or am I skipping to the killing you part?”
“You, Reaper,” he says in a rush. He’s terrified, and it makes me giddy. “Ferguson was going to leave the clan to you if he couldn’t marry Maeve off.”
Quietly, I tilt my head, studying the abysmal man before me. Pale hair, pale skin, pale eyes. He’s as white as a corpse, and just as entertaining.
When I don’t react the way he wants, he sits up, wincing against the pain in his side. Definitely cracked. I’m pleased with the damage.
“Did you hear me? He was?—”
“I heard you.” I tap my ear. “I also don’t care. I’ve never been initiated into the clan—Ferguson’s will wouldn’t have held up against the Board.”
“They would’ve taken you.” He glances over my shoulder. “If it came down to you or the bitch, they would’ve taken you. Maybe they’d let you decide her fate. I heard Michael?—”
And that’s where he loses me. The minute someone mentions how that fucking prick touched my girl, how he tried to breakher—make her into his perfect little servant and spent years destroying her body—I turn into a rabid dog, who needs to bite the first thing that moves.
The knife plunges into his hand, pinning him down to the dirt, red staining the white snow. I grab his mouth, stifling his screams. Pinching his nose, I force him to look at me, his eyes wide in fear, body shaking. It’s fucking delicious.
“I don’t care about the clan,” I murmur. “It can go up in flames and burn for all I care. All of you—from the smallest runner to the biggest soldier—can fuckingdiein the inferno I leave behind, and I wouldn’t bat an eye. I wouldn’t save you, and in fact, I might throw gasoline on your bodies to make you all burn brighter. I’venevercared about it—I’veonlycared about Maeve. And you insultedher, insulted herpast, and herpower. I can’t abide by that.”
