The younger ones, like Micah? I could almost feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on me. I knew they’d hoped I’d choose one of them to marry, believing it would elevate their status within our circle and save us from the trouble of inviting an outsider into our lives. Their ambitions were so painfully short-sighted. Thank God none of them had openly voiced their opinions about my marriage; I didn’t have the time or energy to deal with that kind of mess right now. Not when Roberto was lying here, bruised and battered, and I had no idea who had done this to him.Dr. Harris pulled out a pair of scissors, his movements steady and deliberate as he cut away Roberto’s shirt and pants. I winced, my heart tightening as I watched the fabric fall away, exposing the damage beneath. When he paused at Roberto’s underwear, I felt an odd mix of relief and discomfort. I could have told him it wasn’t necessary, but the words stuck in my throat. Instead, I focused on the mass of bruises d
James cradled his second whiskey, the amber liquid swirling in the glass as the minutes stretched into hours. He was acutely aware of the weight pressing down on him, a heaviness that gnawed at his chest and kept him rooted in place. Calls were piling up, things left to be done, but still he hadn’t moved. Not since Roberto had left hours ago. The man’s decision—choosing family over all else—stuck with James. He admired it, in a way, but it also left a bitter taste in his mouth. Roberto’s choice was noble, sure, but that didn't make it right. Not in a world where families like the Connollys, Hayes, and Morgans were anything but innocent. They weren’t the naïve, wide-eyed victims people liked to pretend they were. They were players in the same game, just with different stakes. And Roberto? He let the girl—maybe a killer, maybe not—slip away, no questions asked.If their father knew, James could already hear the sharp crack of his rage. The skin between his shoulder blades tightened, th
Roberto woke in staggered waves of pain, his body protesting every tiny movement, every breath that strained through his battered ribs. He couldn’t tell if it was the weight of the world that had crushed him or if he'd simply forgotten how to exist without agony. It felt as if a train had collided with him—or maybe two. Every inch of his skin felt bruised, raw, as though it had been scraped off. Breathing was a struggle; moving was an impossibility. His eyes cracked open, the dim light from an unfamiliar room seeping in, casting soft shadows on white walls, white furniture, white everything. A bed sat in the center—four-poster, canopy draped in gauzy, delicate fabric. A scene straight out of a fairy tale, though he was sure no one had ever told a story like this one. His head throbbed like a drumbeat in his skull, too loud, too insistent. And then he heard her voice.“You’re awake.”Roberto winced as he turned his head. The world spun on its axis, a blur of white, but there she was—
He took her hand, his thumb grazing over her knuckles in a gesture of quiet reassurance. “I’ll take care of myself. I promise.”She didn’t flinch, but the skepticism in her eyes was sharp. “Liar.” A faint, wry smile tugged at her lips. “You’re going to go rushing into danger at the first opportunity, and we both know it.”Maybe. Probably. The thought didn’t bother him as much as it should have. He brushed his thumb across her skin again, as though grounding himself in the connection between them. “What if I promise to be as careful as I can be?”“It’s better than nothing, I suppose.” Her gaze dropped to their joined hands, fingers intertwined, as if seeking strength in the simple act. “I don’t like the idea of losing you, Roberto.”His chest tightened at the words, a raw surge of panic clawing at him. He could feel the weight of her worry in his bones. The thought of losing her—of anything happening to her—was a jagged knife twisting in his gut. But he knew better than to show her how
He met her dark eyes, so strikingly similar to his own, and felt the weight of every unspoken word between them. “I’ll be okay. Promise.” His voice was rough, but the sincerity was there, even if the words didn’t fully match the storm brewing inside him.“You can’t promise that, and you know it.” Sloan’s voice was tight, the tension in her words hanging like smoke. She leaned back, her shoulders stiff with the weight of it all. Her eyes shimmered, that familiar look of quiet devastation he had seen countless times before. Her gaze shifted to the altar ahead, but her mind wasn’t there—he could tell. He should have said something more. Should’ve tried harder to comfort her. But what could he say? His promises felt hollow in the air between them, and he knew it. He couldn’t even promise himself that things would get better, let alone her.A bitter laugh tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he swallowed it down, unable to bring himself to express the overwhelming frustration swirling i
Four days later, Roberto trudged up the stairs to his room, his body dragging like a weight had been tethered to his feet. The exhaustion wasn't just physical—it was the kind of weariness that seeped into your bones after days of futile phone calls and failed plans. He felt as though he had been sprinting a marathon, and yet, he had nothing to show for it. James hadn’t returned a single one of his calls. The men he’d sent to canvass the area around *Tit for Tat* had been chased off by Halloran’s men—again. His father was incommunicado, and Aiden? The same damn thing. No one was talking to him about the larger plans, the ones that really mattered. It felt like everything was slipping through his fingers.To top it all off, his younger sisters had taken it upon themselves to ensure he made a full recovery. Every time he turned around, Sloan was there, pushing him into the nearest chair with a soft, worried smile and draping a blanket over his shoulders. Keira was just as bad, practical
“I will say, Kylie, I’m surprised by what you’re proposing.”Kylie felt the familiar weight of her father’s gaze on her, but she refused to let it show. She’d been working toward this moment for days, weeks even, ever since Roberto’s attack had thrown everything into chaos. She had pushed and prodded her father relentlessly, and only today had he finally relented. He promised to hear her out—though whether he truly believed in her plan or was just indulging her, she wasn’t sure. His admiration now, that glint in his eyes, almost made the whole fight worthwhile.Almost.She swallowed her nerves and steeled herself. “They’ll be expecting a full-frontal assault. But that's exactly what makes it a bad idea. They’ll be prepared for it. They’ve already fortified their positions. Instead, we hit them where it hurts, without risking lives. Destroying one of their factories will cripple a major source of income for them. And we’ll be able to do it with minimal casualties.”The words felt like
Roberto wasn’t ready for the effect Kylie would have on him. He swung open the door, and there she stood—softly flushed from the bite of the cold air, her hair tussled from the wind, her blue eyes locking onto his like they had all the time in the world, drinking him in just as much as he was drinking her in. The sight of her made the knot in his chest loosen, and he couldn’t keep himself from speaking the words that had been building in him all day.“I missed you.”Her smile was like the warmth of the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm. It hit him with the force of something deeper than simple affection—like an anchor in the middle of a tumultuous sea. “I missed you, too.”The words were barely out of her mouth before his lips were on hers, unable to wait another second. Her lips were soft and warm, and when they met his, everything else in the world faded. She melted against him, her arms sliding around his neck, pulling him in, just as much as he was pulling her. He nipp
The weight of Kylie's words hung in the air, thick with the grief she hadn’t fully expressed. “That’s how I felt about Ronan,” she said, her voice soft but firm, as though saying it aloud might force the emotions she kept buried inside to the surface. “He was always in my corner, even when we were growing up, fighting like cats and dogs.” A deep, painful shadow flickered across her face, and Roberto could see the grief she’d held in check for so long breaking through the cracks. “I miss him,” she added quietly, her voice thick with unshed tears.“I’m sorry, angel,” Roberto murmured, instantly regretting his choice of words, as if simply mentioning her loss would bring it rushing back in full force. He pulled her into his arms, not sure what else to say, but knowing he had to say something. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”She pulled back slightly, her gaze steady but heavy. “No, it’s okay,” she replied with a shaky breath. “He’s gone, no matter if we talk about it or not. An
Roberto wasn’t ready for the effect Kylie would have on him. He swung open the door, and there she stood—softly flushed from the bite of the cold air, her hair tussled from the wind, her blue eyes locking onto his like they had all the time in the world, drinking him in just as much as he was drinking her in. The sight of her made the knot in his chest loosen, and he couldn’t keep himself from speaking the words that had been building in him all day.“I missed you.”Her smile was like the warmth of the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm. It hit him with the force of something deeper than simple affection—like an anchor in the middle of a tumultuous sea. “I missed you, too.”The words were barely out of her mouth before his lips were on hers, unable to wait another second. Her lips were soft and warm, and when they met his, everything else in the world faded. She melted against him, her arms sliding around his neck, pulling him in, just as much as he was pulling her. He nipp
“I will say, Kylie, I’m surprised by what you’re proposing.”Kylie felt the familiar weight of her father’s gaze on her, but she refused to let it show. She’d been working toward this moment for days, weeks even, ever since Roberto’s attack had thrown everything into chaos. She had pushed and prodded her father relentlessly, and only today had he finally relented. He promised to hear her out—though whether he truly believed in her plan or was just indulging her, she wasn’t sure. His admiration now, that glint in his eyes, almost made the whole fight worthwhile.Almost.She swallowed her nerves and steeled herself. “They’ll be expecting a full-frontal assault. But that's exactly what makes it a bad idea. They’ll be prepared for it. They’ve already fortified their positions. Instead, we hit them where it hurts, without risking lives. Destroying one of their factories will cripple a major source of income for them. And we’ll be able to do it with minimal casualties.”The words felt like
Four days later, Roberto trudged up the stairs to his room, his body dragging like a weight had been tethered to his feet. The exhaustion wasn't just physical—it was the kind of weariness that seeped into your bones after days of futile phone calls and failed plans. He felt as though he had been sprinting a marathon, and yet, he had nothing to show for it. James hadn’t returned a single one of his calls. The men he’d sent to canvass the area around *Tit for Tat* had been chased off by Halloran’s men—again. His father was incommunicado, and Aiden? The same damn thing. No one was talking to him about the larger plans, the ones that really mattered. It felt like everything was slipping through his fingers.To top it all off, his younger sisters had taken it upon themselves to ensure he made a full recovery. Every time he turned around, Sloan was there, pushing him into the nearest chair with a soft, worried smile and draping a blanket over his shoulders. Keira was just as bad, practical
He met her dark eyes, so strikingly similar to his own, and felt the weight of every unspoken word between them. “I’ll be okay. Promise.” His voice was rough, but the sincerity was there, even if the words didn’t fully match the storm brewing inside him.“You can’t promise that, and you know it.” Sloan’s voice was tight, the tension in her words hanging like smoke. She leaned back, her shoulders stiff with the weight of it all. Her eyes shimmered, that familiar look of quiet devastation he had seen countless times before. Her gaze shifted to the altar ahead, but her mind wasn’t there—he could tell. He should have said something more. Should’ve tried harder to comfort her. But what could he say? His promises felt hollow in the air between them, and he knew it. He couldn’t even promise himself that things would get better, let alone her.A bitter laugh tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he swallowed it down, unable to bring himself to express the overwhelming frustration swirling i
He took her hand, his thumb grazing over her knuckles in a gesture of quiet reassurance. “I’ll take care of myself. I promise.”She didn’t flinch, but the skepticism in her eyes was sharp. “Liar.” A faint, wry smile tugged at her lips. “You’re going to go rushing into danger at the first opportunity, and we both know it.”Maybe. Probably. The thought didn’t bother him as much as it should have. He brushed his thumb across her skin again, as though grounding himself in the connection between them. “What if I promise to be as careful as I can be?”“It’s better than nothing, I suppose.” Her gaze dropped to their joined hands, fingers intertwined, as if seeking strength in the simple act. “I don’t like the idea of losing you, Roberto.”His chest tightened at the words, a raw surge of panic clawing at him. He could feel the weight of her worry in his bones. The thought of losing her—of anything happening to her—was a jagged knife twisting in his gut. But he knew better than to show her how
Roberto woke in staggered waves of pain, his body protesting every tiny movement, every breath that strained through his battered ribs. He couldn’t tell if it was the weight of the world that had crushed him or if he'd simply forgotten how to exist without agony. It felt as if a train had collided with him—or maybe two. Every inch of his skin felt bruised, raw, as though it had been scraped off. Breathing was a struggle; moving was an impossibility. His eyes cracked open, the dim light from an unfamiliar room seeping in, casting soft shadows on white walls, white furniture, white everything. A bed sat in the center—four-poster, canopy draped in gauzy, delicate fabric. A scene straight out of a fairy tale, though he was sure no one had ever told a story like this one. His head throbbed like a drumbeat in his skull, too loud, too insistent. And then he heard her voice.“You’re awake.”Roberto winced as he turned his head. The world spun on its axis, a blur of white, but there she was—
James cradled his second whiskey, the amber liquid swirling in the glass as the minutes stretched into hours. He was acutely aware of the weight pressing down on him, a heaviness that gnawed at his chest and kept him rooted in place. Calls were piling up, things left to be done, but still he hadn’t moved. Not since Roberto had left hours ago. The man’s decision—choosing family over all else—stuck with James. He admired it, in a way, but it also left a bitter taste in his mouth. Roberto’s choice was noble, sure, but that didn't make it right. Not in a world where families like the Connollys, Hayes, and Morgans were anything but innocent. They weren’t the naïve, wide-eyed victims people liked to pretend they were. They were players in the same game, just with different stakes. And Roberto? He let the girl—maybe a killer, maybe not—slip away, no questions asked.If their father knew, James could already hear the sharp crack of his rage. The skin between his shoulder blades tightened, th
The younger ones, like Micah? I could almost feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on me. I knew they’d hoped I’d choose one of them to marry, believing it would elevate their status within our circle and save us from the trouble of inviting an outsider into our lives. Their ambitions were so painfully short-sighted. Thank God none of them had openly voiced their opinions about my marriage; I didn’t have the time or energy to deal with that kind of mess right now. Not when Roberto was lying here, bruised and battered, and I had no idea who had done this to him.Dr. Harris pulled out a pair of scissors, his movements steady and deliberate as he cut away Roberto’s shirt and pants. I winced, my heart tightening as I watched the fabric fall away, exposing the damage beneath. When he paused at Roberto’s underwear, I felt an odd mix of relief and discomfort. I could have told him it wasn’t necessary, but the words stuck in my throat. Instead, I focused on the mass of bruises d