Page 192 of Deceived Wrath

“You can’t buy yourself any more time.”

“You need to listen to me?—”

“You’ve got some nerve, you know that?” Cormac growls, but I’m beyond being intimidated by this version of him, not when the safety of not just him and Scout, but the rest of the Sullivan family is at stake.

“I didn’t delete the file like he asked because I needed to show you the proof of what he’s planning.”

Cormac stops dead in his tracks, but he doesn’t let go of my arm. “What proof?”

I nod toward the laptop on the desk. “See for yourself.”

Cormac releases me abruptly and slams the door shut before stalking over to the desk.

My heart pounds in my chest as I watch him open the laptop.

“Show me.”

I quickly hurry over to the laptop, willing my hands to stop shaking long enough for me to open the file.

“What is this?” Cormac asks when I turn the laptop to show him.

“Mostly financial transfers. To someone named Smirnov,” I explain shakily as Cormac starts scrolling through the file, his expression hardening by the second.

Cormac stares at the screen, one hand braced against the desk like the ground might give way beneath him if he lets go. He’s deathly still as he scrolls through the file again. I’ve never seen him this still before, and it scares me more than his anger ever could.

“Is this everything?”

“No.” I reach for the laptop.

Cormac steps aside so there’s no risk of me accidentally brushing against him.

“There are records of meetings here that prove…” I don’t want to say the words.

“That proves what?”

I take a breath and look at Cormac. “That proves Lorcan didn’t just betray your family, Cormac. He…he was the one who killed your father.”

Cormac’s knuckles turn white as he grips the edge of the desk. “You’re lying.”

“I wish I was.”

“Do you really expect me to believe you?”

“I expect you to believe the data that’s right in front of you. You know how this works, Cormac. This isn’t just about transferring money. It’s about power and protection. There are payments here that line up with shifts in territory from years ago when your father was alive.”

Cormac’s jaw tightens.

“Smirnov benefited from every single one of them,” I continue. “And Lorcan was the one moving the money.”

He slams the laptop shut. “Why are you telling me this? Why do you even care?”

“How can you even ask me that?”

“How can you expect me not to?”

I say nothing, because he’s right.

He turns to face me. “You don’t get to stand there and pretend this makes up for what you did.”