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"Well, now you’re looking after a bunch of traitors’ families too."
"It looks good on you, Bren," Conor offered. "You’re always the one who bats for the underdog. It’s why Ma’s still got you hooked up to her apron strings."
Temper flashed in Brennan’s eyes. "You want to say that when we’re in the ring tomorrow? I’ll show you what I fucking think of that."
Kid’s lips curved. "Don’t worry. I’ll show Shay how to take a fucker like you down."
Before this could get into much more of a pissing contest than it already was, I retorted, "Duke it out however you want, just do as I ask with the families. They’ve all got sons and daughters in the ranks. We fuck this up, we’re as big a dipshit as Da was."
Finn scrubbed a hand over his jaw. "I was looking up ALS."
I frowned at him. "Why?"
"I wanted to know what was going on. Recent studies are saying that ALS is behind a lot of cognitive malfunctioning."
Declan reached for his glass of water. "Meaning Da’s judgment was impaired?"
"It was impaired without the ALS," Bren muttered.
"True that," I said on a sigh, but guilt and hurt and bitterness and a whole host of emotions choked me.
He’d gone through that alone.
He hadn’t come to us with it.
Hadn’t trusted us.
That need to prove myself hit me again.
For us all to prove our worth.
We were more than the sons of our father.
New York City needed to learn that.
And though that father had fucked us up, his legacy was one that I wanted to outlive us.
