At least they’re being quiet.
Looking up to the grand wooden door, I see movement behind the opaque glass. Killian cleans his knife off on his pant leg, jerking his head.
“What’s the plan, Princess?”
I smile, and his eyes ignite. “I think we should be invited in for dinner.”
Swaying up the stairs, I loudly knock on the door, like a guest coming over. Both men share a look before taking a side, guns drawn.
Briar laughs in my ear. “Yeah, no, that’s tracks, sis. Let’s tell the bad guys we’re here.”
“Briar,” I breathe, withdrawing my gun. “Wearethe bad guys.”
As the door opens, I have my gun leveled at his old, gray face. It’s a Board member—I don’t know which one, and I don’t really fucking care. Icy rage takes over my body, and everything I touch freezes.
His eyes widen with recognition at the exact moment I place the barrel into his open mouth.
“Were you expecting someone else?”
I fire. The bullet shoots through the back of his mouth, embedding in the far wall before his body crumples to the floor. There’s a second of waiting—silence—before Killian laughs next to me.
“I’ve always loved it when you make an entrance.”
Slipping past me, Lex keeps at my back, and we move to the house. Feet are pounding, the scrape of chairs, and with Briar’s direction, we find ourselves in the dining room. Six of the Board are in there, some in the process of standing.
At the head sits a large man, dark hair peppered with gray, face ashen. I’ve only seen him in photos—whispered about in polite society.
Hale Langston—Michael’s younger brother.
I always wondered why I was given away. My father hated me—hated his firstborn was a female, someone he couldn’t use to carry on his authority. When he offered me to Michael, Iassumed it was to keep the O’Brien blood while having a man he trusted at the head. They were best friends, but a half-decade separated them.
I realized, after his death, that I wasn’t given out of some beautiful irony. Not because of my last name, nor to breed me. But to appease the Board.
If my father kept Michael happy, he kept Hale happy, and therefore? The Board. They controlled our finances, our shipments, our contracts—if he stayed on their good side, he could do anything. My father liked his power more than he liked me.
Hale is a fucking nightmare in human form—he shares the same facial structure as his older brother, the same beady eyes. He’s not overweight like him, but their smiles are the same.
The same smile that used to beam whenever he hurt me—tookfrom me.
Such a pretty little thing.
No.
Finger hovering over my trigger, I take in the full table. The gray faces, their furrowed brows. No one thought I’d be here—no one thought they were touchable. It makes me laugh.
Hale stands, looking from me to the capo and finally, the Reaper.
“Ace,” he says slowly. “How did you?—”
I hold up the gun. “We’re going to make this quick.” I stare into each of their eyes. “Doyle is dead. My father is dead. The contract they agreed to?Dead. That means you don’t touch my family—you don’t touch my clan. We don’t have business anymore.”
There’s movement to my side. A man is trying to be courageous and take me out. I swing my gun into his face and pull the trigger.
He sits back, blood marring the leather. I think that gets the point across.
“Do we have an understanding?”
“Ace, listen,” he explains, “We have a long-standing arrangement. If you let us explain, maybe we could work something out.”
