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We sit there for a moment, just holding each other’s hands, our unspoken commitment filling the room as the city lights twinkle outside our penthouse window.
Ciarán and Cathal’s past may haunt them, but with every touch, every whispered word of love, we’re slowly tearing down the walls that have kept them captive for so long. Together, we’ll build something new–something stronger than any of us could have ever imagined.
“You two work it out?” Ciarán asks, entering the room.
“Yeah,” I answer for both of us. “All good.”
“Good, because Luke is on this video and he reckons he can have it blown up and smoothed out in hours. Then hopefully we will know who the fuck to gun down and make them wish they’d never been born.”
“Too fucking right,” Cathal snarls. “I’m going to peel his fucking skin off inch by inch, so he remembers as he screams for mercy while he’s dying, who he decided to fuck with.”
Cathal drags his hand out of mine and steps back, his face dark and scary. For a moment, I’m afraid, but then it dissipates as quickly as it rose. Whoever tried to kill Cathal and possibly Ciarán as well, deserves everything they get, and I’m not even sorry about the lack of guilt I feel over this decision. I won’t stand in their way or be the one to stop them from dealing with things how they do.
I’m in their world now and I couldn’t be happier.
11
CIARÁN
The air in the Angel pub is thick with tension, like a storm waiting to break. I watch as Cathal’s gang swagger in like they own the fucking place, and my own, trying not to rise to the past threat. Making sure Summer is tucked away in the corner booth nearest the door with Ronny watching her again, which seems to be his go-to position lately, I make a mental note to ask him about this guy Tinks saw the other night. Things have gotten away from me, and my head is up my ass, but I gotta get it together and do things right for my girl. Our girl. Cathal’s return to my life has been surprising, comforting, and threatening all at the same damn time. Trust him to make a fucking show of himself when being in the mafia is all about laying low.
“Remember, it’s all about control,” I murmur to Cathal, my voice low enough that only he can hear. His eyes flicker to mine for a moment before returning to the scene before us.
“Right,” he says, his voice equally quiet. “Control.”
“Listen up, assholes,” I shout out once everyone is assembled. “You’ve heard the rumors, you’ve seen the proof, and this is happening. Cathal and I are merging, and you guys need to get on board, put your past rivalries aside and get with the program, A-SAP. This is better for all of us. The territory has expanded, the wealth will be evenly distributed, and it’s time to make new friends. Got it? Anyone got a problem; you know where to find us.”
A low rumble resounds through the otherwise silent pub. My guys and Cathal’s are struggling to find their place in this new alliance, each member subtly jockeying for position. It’s a delicate dance, a test of strength and loyalty.
As we stand there, observing the problematic, but not unexpected, uneasy merging of our two worlds, I see the first signs of trouble. A couple of Cathal’s men huddle together, whispering, their body language unmistakable - they’re planning something. As if sensing my gaze, one of them looks up, meeting my eyes briefly before glancing away.
“Got a problem over there,” I nod towards the pair, alerting Cathal to the potential threat. His gaze is already on them, his expression dark.
“I see it,” he mutters under his breath. “I knew this wouldn’t be easy. Those two bastards have always been trouble.”
“Time to show them who’s in charge then, isn’t it? You up for it?”
Cathal takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “Always.”
It’s not my place to question him. If he feels like his ribs can take another hit, not to mention his skull, then that’s up to him. I’m not his keeper and I’m not his fucking nurse.
We stride over to the two men, our presence causing them to fall silent immediately. An air of defiance surrounds them, but I can also sense fear lurking beneath the surface.
“Something you want to share with the rest of us?” Cathal asks, his voice hard and unforgiving.
One of the men, a tall brute with a scar across his cheek, steps forward. “We don’t need your brother’s gang,” he sneers, looking at me with contempt. “We can handle our business just fine on our own.”
“Is that so?” Cathal replies, his tone ice-cold. “Because it seems to me like you’re forgetting who’s in charge here.”
“Maybe it’s time for a change,” another man pipes up, emboldened by the first speaker.
“You planning a coup, Mikey? Fucking bold,” Cathal snaps, his fury barely contained. “You have two choices - fall back in line or get stitches. Which is it?”
The men exchange glances, their expressions angry and uncertain. The weight of their decision hanging in the air, the outcome unpredictable, but the threat to Cathal’s control all too real.
“Let me make myself clear,” Cathal continues, his eyes locked on the challengers. “Anyone who isn’t with us, who doesn’t respect our leadership, can fight us, right here, right now.”
Their hesitation is all it takes for Cathal to lose his rag. His temper is notorious, and I don’t envy these assholes one bit.
