“And sign over everything she left you,” Cian says, inclining his head. “Your sister will get a split, of course. I’m not an unreasonable man.”
I rock back against my seat, remembering my earlier conversation with Broussard. Mom had made an appointment with her lawyer. To write Elizabeth out of the will? Then Elizabeth found out, and that was the straw that broke her. She used Devin’s connection—and Father’s?—to Cian to arrange for the cover-up. Did Aiden know about this? Did he have a hand in it?
“Don’t,” Aiden says beside me as he pushes to his feet.
Cian nods to one man—one of the Burns family, maybe? I don’t fucking know—who takes Aiden by the arms, and slams him back down in his seat, pinning him there. Aiden doesn’t even put up a fight. I want to scream at him, beg, but I know that’s what Cian wants, so I swallow all of it back and don’t resist as someone slams me back into my seat.
“I don’t think he’ll be going anywhere, Nolan. Just keep a close eye on him, yeah?” Cian says as he leans back against the chair.
“I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t hurt him.”
I take a mental note of the man holding Aiden: a blunt nose, close-shaved bright blond hair, watery blue eyes, and a short but stocky build. He shoves Aiden’s shoulder as though enjoying seeing someone who normally intimidates him being brought low. Why isn’t Aiden fighting back? He’s more than strong enough to take one man. Aiden’s fierce gaze is locked on Cian, promising death. But will he be too late?
Cian barks out orders that I can barely hear over the ringing in my ears. I marshal my panicked thoughts into order. As much as I want to dig his eyeballs out with a spork, I need to focus. Play his game. I’ve done it enough times with my father. I can do it for Cian, too. Men like him just want to feel in control. I can do that.
“See, Aiden?” Cian is taunting. “If only you were as well-behaved as your wife. Your sister may say you’re not smart, but it seems to me that you know when to listen. Maybe you need another demonstration of what I do to people who defy me.”
Cian moves—too fast. One moment, he’s standing with a hand on Mary’s shoulder, and the next, his hand blurs, and when I blink, she jerks in her seat. A sharp, gurgling noise fills the air. A knife, her own goddamn steak knife, is buried in her throat.
I leap to my feet, but there’s nothing I can do. I’m powerless. The man behind me slams me back down.
Blood pours from the wound in her neck, bright red and cruel. Her cry of pain had been a silent one, and the grimace of it still lances across her face. Before anyone can do anything, Cian rips the knife away, and blood flows faster now, staining her pretty dress, pooling on the plate in front of her where her finger still rests.
But what’s even more horrifying is the acceptance in her face as she stares into Aiden’s. Their eyes hold for a long, long moment before she blinks, and then she’s gone. Her life winking out like she’s fallen asleep. Slowly, her body slumps forward until, finally, she’s still.
It feels like it’s taken an eternity, but the whole ordeal couldn’t have lasted more than a couple of minutes.
A sharp cry comes from my throat, my hands covering my mouth. I can’t move. I’m frozen, like this is a night terror I can’t wake up from.
Cian wipes the knife on a cloth napkin and sighs. “I hate that she outlived her usefulness, but clearly, she no longer played her part when it came to keeping you in line. I have to admit I’m going to miss her.” He straightens, leaving the knife on the table.
Don’t look, don’t fuckin’ look.
Aiden struggles, momentarily throwing off the man who restrains him.
“Want me to put a bullet in his brain? Get it all done and over with for good?” the man asks, once he has Aiden restrained again.
No one’s eating anymore. Terror tends to do that to people. Whoever was serving the courses has also made themselves scarce, so no dessert will be forthcoming as a distraction.
“What do you think, sweetheart?” Cian says, his wine-sour breath wafting over my cheek as he presses his mouth to my ear. “Would you like me to get rid of him for you so we can have some time alone?”
This seems to snap Aiden out of whatever trance he was in. “Let her go.”
“Ah, he speaks. I was afraid I’d gone and broken you for good, boy. I don’t think I will. She sits pretty for me, doesn’t she?”
Aiden jerks forward, and the man slams him back against the seat hard enough to make him grunt. “Let her go. This is about me. Let her go, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“You’ll give me what I want, no matter what. Won’t you?” Cian rests a hand on my thigh. From Aiden’s vantage point, he’s close enough to see exactly what’s happening, and I stiffen, causing Cian to huff out another sour-smelling laugh.
Behind me, Cian’s quaking, his skin hot against where we touch, and his hand trembles as he palms one breast, squeezing too tight before he lets go with a hiss, pressing the hand to his head as though he’s in pain.
Does it make me a terrible person to hope all the wine is giving him the worst headache of his life? He hadn’t eaten much at dinner. No doubt he was planning how best to make Aiden suffer, so the alcohol is probably going straight to his head.
I adjust myself on his lap to better gauge how drunk he is, hoping he’s a lightweight.
“Boss, you okay?” Nolan asks when he sees the twisted grimace on Cian’s face.
“M’grand.” Cian grabs a blood-splattered linen napkin from the table and dabs at the profuse amount of sweat pouring from his face. His complexion underneath has gone pale. “Just hot in here from all the excitement.” He punctuates the statement by dropping the sopping-wet napkin and pawing at my chest again.
