“Good. I hate fucking traitors.”
“But if it’s not…”
Cormac scoffs. “We take them out regardless.”
We share a look from across the table, both of us silently thinking the same thing.
Can we do this to Lorcan?
The tension thickens in the room.
Brennan shifts in his spot. “Do you really think Finn could have turned from the spindly kid we brought in to a bloodthirsty hitman? It just doesn’t sound like him.”
I shake my head. “People change, Brennan. When survival’s the game, loyalty’s a currency.”
“Or…” Kieran glances at me.
“Orwhat?”
Kieran shrugs. “Maybe someone made him believe we were the enemy.”
“I always thought Lorcan was wrong in bringing Finn in.” I rub my temples. “He was too young and inexperienced. He didn’t grow up in the game like we did, and the power might have gone to his head.”
“Like someone else I know…” Brennan glances at Kieran.
“Watch yourself, little brother.” Kieran picks up two glasses and the bottle of whiskey and carries them over to the table, taking a seat beside Brennan.
Cormac shrugs. “There’s no point playing the blame game, Ronan. Right now, we just need results, and regardless of whether or not it’s Finn, the mole needs to be taken care of.”
Brennan’s eyes widen. “Wait, you think Finn is themole? The guy’s been off the grid since last year, presumed dead after that ambush.”
Kieran slaps Brennan around the back of the head. “Presumed dead isn’t the same as actually dead, dipshit.”
“Fuck you.” Brennan takes a swing at Kieran, who narrowly dodges it.
God. These two…
“Enough! If Finn is smart enough to disappear, he’s smart enough to sabotage us from the inside, and we’re already running out of time. So, Kieran, I need you to set the bait, and I don’t want any mistakes, got it?”
Kieran reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his phone. “You know me, brother. Mistakes aren’t my style.”
Brennan snorts. “Are you sure, hotshot? Because last week you set off the smoke alarm with your own damn cigar. It’s a wonder you manage to survive living on your own.”
“I left it burning because I was a little preoccupied.”
“With what? Staring at yourself in a mirror?”
“I was getting laid, little brother, a concept you’re not familiar with.”
“Taking your dick in your hand doesn’t count as getting laid,” Brennan retorts.
“Then I guess you’re still a virgin, right?”
I walk over to the table and take Brennan’s drink out of his hand before downing it in one, needing something to drown out the sound of their bickering. “God help us if the mole’s one of us.”
Kieran snorts. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
Kieran glances over his shoulder at Cormac, who scowls.
