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ROHAN
There areseveral reasons why I choose not to drink on the regular — the lack of control, the inability to survey my surroundings and keep my guard up, and finally becauseapparently,I turn into an incoherent mess who needs to be held.
Trust me, nobody wants to see that, least of all me.
Last night only solidified my feelings on the matter, because, in true Rohan fashion, I got shitfaced after the fight, mainly because of my cunt of a father and his constant dissatisfaction with everything I do. And then, to make matters worse, the little boy trapped inside me came out to play, seeking any form of fucking affection he could get. Which is possibly the worst thing a guy like me could do. Vulnerability is not in my vocabulary. A king never shows weakness, ever. Hence my swift fucking departure from Saoirse’s room in the early hours of this morning.
I did not mean for her to see that side of me, ever. Unfortunately, I remember every word I uttered to her, and now I can’t erase the pathetic visual from my mind.
Regretting last night’s decisions, I tip my head back and balance it on the back of my couch. “Fuck me, I asked her to snuggle me,” I mutter, my thoughts falling from my lips as I close my eyes.
“You did what?” Perched on the seat across from me, Aodhàn’s ears perk up, his attention now pulled from whatever Netflix shit he’s watching. “Fucking hell, that’s gold. Liam must have gotten a few hard hits at that thick skull of yours, huh?” He howls with laughter.
Scrubbing my face with my palm, I try to erase the image of my body curled around Saoirse’s tiny frame from my mind. “She’s a quick fuck and a means to an end, nothing more.”A fact that I wish were true, but it's not.
Across the living room, Aodhan wraps his arms around his waist, running his hands over his back like he’s kissing someone. “Oh, Saoirse. Your snuggles are magic. They give my tiny penis life.”
Plucking up a cushion from next to me, I chuck it at him. “Can you please shut the fuck up?”
My eyes squint tighter as I massage my temples with the pads of my fingers. “Monkeys are already banging cymbals in my head. I don’t need you adding to it with your ridiculous hyena laugh and ridiculous kissing noises.”
“I can’t help it. You’ve painted this picture in my head, and fuck me, it's hilarious.”
Lifting my head slightly, I level him with a murderous glare. “Final warning, A.”
He side-eyes me, raising a brow before bringing his joint back to his lips and taking a drag. Behind a poof of white smoke, he pokes me once more. “I’m shaking in my boots. Big bad Rohan is angry and he might snuggle me to death.” Another round of laughter barrels past his lips and he throws his head back as he clutches his rib cage. “I have to know — Were you the big spoon or the little spoon?”
In one swift motion, I reach forward and tear open the drawer beneath my coffee table, and then pull out my Agency Arms Urban Combat G19. After reloading the chamber, I straighten my arm and aim slightly above his head before pulling the trigger.
He ducks, covering his face as his arms cups his head, and the bullet smashes through the wall behind him.
His eyes widen as he ticks his neck back and forth between me and the fresh hole I put in the plaster. “What the fuck? Did you just try to shoot me? That was low, man, even for you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. If I wanted to shoot you, I wouldn't have missed.”
He nods, knowing full well I am right. Most of the King's kids have been shooting a gun since they were fourteen years old. Being a part of the syndicate brings its own set of troubles, ones we need to be prepared for at all times. Money, drugs, power, and guns, they’re all part of this lifestyle. Besides, it’s not the first time I’ve aimed my gun at him, and honestly, it probably won’t be the last either. After all, Aodhán has a tendency to get on my nerves.
Finally, I push myself from my chair, grunting as every aching bone screams at me to sit the fuck back down. “I’m heading to bed for a few hours before tonight’s meeting.”
Walking past him, I clip him in the back of the head. “Feel free to make yourself at home, arsehole.”
He throws his middle finger up in salute, before facing back towards the tv. “Always do, snuggle bunny. I always do.”
* * *
This is excruciating.
Not only would I kill to be anywhere but sitting at this ridiculously long, pretentious, old mahogany table, but I'd also rather gouge my own eyeballs out with a rusty fork than have to spend the next hour perched across from my cunt of a sperm donor and his holier-than-thou attitude. My head is still pounding from last night’s miserable attempt to dull the demons in my head. Not to mention the slight embarrassment lingering from my night at Saoirse’s house, drunk off my fucking arse.
But rules are rules, and we must obey them. So here I am, fulfilling Daddy’s request. Horse shite!
Everybody here knows the older generation loves a good power play, especially when it involves their heirs. Delegating us to the ‘kiddie side’ of the table while they sit high and mighty on their thrones is a prime example of that. Who are we to think we deserve a seat next to them? We’ve yet to prove our strength, our loyalty, and our devotion — all three trials we must complete before earning our title as one of them. I’m not a fan of some of the old traditions, but with my father running this sinking ship, I need to comply. For now, at least.
“Let’s get down to business,” My father looks back and forth at the line of men and women sitting to his right and left. “How are the operations going? We will start with the Bishops, Kevin, and Lorcan,” he prods, peering at the two men sitting to his left.
“All the hospitality businesses are doing well. Bars, restaurants, and clubs are all back in business. We’ve secured the liquor company, too. Which will be a great way to clean the cash we get from the shipments.” Kevin shifts in his seat, buckling beneath the weight of my father's stare. Honestly, I don’t understand how he made it this far. Not only is he a ball-less bastard, but he’s also about as useful as a chocolate teapot. Fucker can’t stand the heat.
“And what about you?” He tips his chin at Lorcan. “Everything okay on your end?”
