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And they’d gone to Paddy, not me.
Fuck.
I knew I was a monster. The Five Points needed that. They didn’t need some pansy-assed wimp sitting on the throne, but a man who knew how to lead through fear. Who had the whole city at his feet, who made them scared of what the O’Donnellys would and could do next.
I’d done that.
I’d been all that.
I’d even treated my sons like they were toy soldiers and I was their general.
I’d forged them in fire, strengthening them until they were ready to take over in my stead, but they’d gone to my brother when they should have come to me.
That had the stuffing in my joints disappearing as I dropped to my knees, sagging over, panting as I rested my hands on the floor.
It was only then I saw the blood on my fists, the wrecked skin, the busted knuckles—but I felt no pain. I rarely did. Blood spattered against the wooden slats beneath me, the garnet red drops dark as night against the mahogany floor.
Junior muttered, "Conor made him swear that he wouldn’t tell you. You know Uncle Paddy took being a godfather seriously."
"Why didn’t you tell me? I could have made him pay. Made him suffer. Made him fucking hurt."
"Because Conor made us promise not to. He didn’t want you to know," Junior whispered rawly.
The shame that triggered in me almost made me twist around so I could slam my head into the wall a few more dozen times.
"Why not?" I cried, unaware that tears mingled with blood as they coursed in rivets down my cheeks. "He had to know I’d burn the church down for him."
How the fuck was I supposed to confess there now?
How the fuck was I supposed to get to my knees, admit to my sins and atone for them, in the place where my boy had to get tohisknees? Had to—
Dear God.
How many times had Conor confessed in that booth?
How many times had I made him go to the place where he’d been abused? Made him confess for his sins,atone? Seek penitence in a church that must have been his personal hell?
"I don’t know why. I wanted to—" He heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know what Kid’s like. He moves in his own way."
"I’d have made him pay," I raged. "He had to know I’d kill for him. For all of you."
Anything for them.
My boys.
My fucking boys.
Didn’t they know the only warmth this broken soul of mine ever felt was when I was with them and Lena? Didn’t they know that my family was the only light in the darkness? The only thing that kept that fucking pit of blackness that threatened to swallow me whole every day at bay?
"I’d have made that bastard pay. He has to know that. How couldn’t he know that?" I sobbed out.
"The only way to find out is to ask him yourself," Junior whispered.
Finn cleared his throat. "Why’d you break that promise now, Aidan? Neither of us have even spoken about it together, never mind telling someone else."
Junior skewered Finn with a look. "I found out today that the Archbishop of New York is a Sparrow."
"Monsignor Masters is a Sparrow?" I repeated dazedly, needing to know for sure.
