She strolls back toward me, her eyes filled with unshed tears. I hold my hand out for her, meeting her halfway. Her other hand grabs my bicep as we walk toward a large conference table, just large enough for all of us to be seated. Two of the chairs are empty.
The chair on Cormac’s right side would forever remain empty. It only took one footman to make the grave mistake of sitting in Imogen's chair. The poor bastard couldn’t see for a week after Cormac was finished. It took Lorcan, Cian, Eion, and my father to separate them. At that time, I didn’t have a seat at the table yet. Ronan and I sat on a couch on the other side of the office, playing Uno and watching the beating with fascination. I had never seen Cormac so angry before.
But now, when I look at Maeve, I understand. I understand that the loss of her would ruin me for eternity.
I pull out her chair, allowing her to sit before I sit to her left. My mother is sitting to my left, and my father sits at one end of the table, Eoin on his left. I lock eyes with Orin, who is seated on Maeve’s right, and we exchange a knowing nod. This conversation will not be a reunion, but all business. Cormac is sitting on Cian’s right, at the other end of the table, and Lorcan is sitting to the right of Imogen’s chair. Ronan is sitting across from me, with his father on his right, and an empty chair between him and Lorcan. Every seating position holds meaning. Decades of fights, struggles, and scars simmer here amongst us. I catch Cian staring at Imogen’s chair for a pregnant moment. He still feels guilty about that night. Orin leans over to whisper something in his ear, breaking Cian from the place he had been pulled to. His face is a mask of indifference.
Cormac’s body language speaks volumes. His jaw is clenched, muscles taut. Anger is simmering on the surface, ready to erupt. It’s a stark difference from his demeanor when we first arrived.
My father clears his throat, pulling all of our gazes toward him.
“We all know why we are here, so let’s cut to the chase,” he says, then clears his throat again, reaching up to touch it, as if in need of something to soothe it. My mother hands him a glass of water, and he nods in thanks to her as he sits down. He takes a drink, then reaches for her hand, their fingers intertwining effortlessly.
Eoin stands and begins to speak.This is new,I think with interest.
“We have very little footage from the warehouse. It looks like someone knew where to look to dismantle and erase everything past the time that Nessa was dropped off. Speaking of,” Eoin says, looking to Maeve, “anything we should know about,Bláthnat?” The slightest grin crosses her lips at the nickname he had given her when we were hardly out of diapers. Little Flower. He adores her as much as the rest of us.
Maeve recounts the course of events that transpired, not just today, but over the last nine years, with every detail she can recall. Everyone in the room grows angrier by the second. I look at Cormac, who is now a bright shade of red. When she finishes, I fill them in on some missing bits of information. As soon as I finish, the room is silent for a few heartbeats as everyone soaks in what we’ve told them.
“Get some men to go pick Liam up now,” Cormac bites out roughly, breaking the silence. We all look at him with confusion. “I need to find out how much of this he knew.”
I feel Maeve tense. She squirms in her seat, a wary look in her eyes. Something’s wrong. I lightly tug at her arm, and she looks up, catching my eyes. A barely detectable jerk of her head tells me she doesn’t want to talk about it here.
I stand from my seat, pulling Maeve with me.
“Son, we aren’t done talking. Sit back down,” my father demands.
“We’ll be right back,” I say, guiding Maeve toward the door with a hand on her elbow. I don’t look back at the room, but I’m sure all eyes are on us. This isn’t done during business meetings. One doesn’t simply get up and walk out, especially a young gun like me. There’d probably be hell to pay later on. But they should know I wouldn’t walk out without a good reason. And I have a very strong feeling that whatever Maeve is about to tell me will more than justify our exit. We stride down the hall and around the corner to a half bath. It’s far enough away from the meeting to guarantee us some privacy.
“Maeve,” I say, my voice rough.
The hairs on the back of my neck raise along with my anger as the words fall from her lips.
By the time she finishes, my mind is already made up.
I am going to tear that motherfucker apart, limb by limb, and his piece of shit daughter Nessa alongside him.
Chapter 26
Maeve
Dystychiphobia (n) the fear of hurting someone
“Maeve,” Callum says gruffly, anger and apprehension in his voice. I close my eyes, slowly pulling a steadying breath in an attempt to keep myself grounded.
13 Years Old
The sun's rays were daunting in the sweltering heat of the Fourth of July. It was one of my favorite holidays. We’d spend the entire day swimming and enjoying endless snacks, and when darkness fell, we shot fireworks to end the day. Cal, Ronan, and Orin were in the deep end of the pool, trying to drown each other, it seemed. Nessa was in a chair, sunbathing as usual. I dried off as much as possible before I went inside to use the bathroom. It was chilly inside, and I wrapped my arms around myself as I tiptoed over the tile floor.
When I finished, I washed my hands and realized my braid was coming loose. I took a few minutes to brush it out and redo it before going back outside. As I studied my reflection, I could see a red tint blooming on my skin, and I recognized the slight sting of sunburn.
Sunscreen. I needed some sunscreen. I opened the bathroom door and ran into a wall of steel. I looked up to see my Uncle Liam filling the doorway.
“Sorry, Uncle Liam, I didn’t realize you were waiting,” I said as I attempted to side-step him. He mirrored me and stepped with me. I let out a small, awkward laugh. Looking up to meet his gaze, I no longer saw the uncle I knew. There was something wicked behind those hazel eyes that were now edging on a solid brown. His pupils were dilated, and I could feel a lump in my throat. He loomed over me, invading my space. I took a step back, and he took another one toward me until he had entered enough to close the door behind him.
“Uncle Liam, what are you doing?” My voice shook, and when he didn’t respond, I pressed, “Why are you in here?” Bile rose in my throat as he took another step toward me. It didn’t take long before my back was flush with the wall. I shook and looked past him at the door, trying to think of a way to get myself around him and back outside.
“You wouldn’t make it two steps, Evie.” A wicked grin passed across his face as he looked down at me underneath his brows. I opened my mouth to scream, and his large hand slammed against my face, stopping the sound. His hot breath was just centimeters away.
