“We don’t have much of a choice.”
Ten minutes later,I pull up outside the warehouse, which sits at the far end of a forgotten industrial strip, tucked away between rusted shipping containers and sagging chain-link fences topped with coiled barbed wire. The metal paneling is old and rusted, and most of the windows are shattered. A dented roll-up door hangs off its tracks, and piles of older machinery and metal lay discarded outside.
It’s one of many my family has owned for decades. On paper, they’re abandoned and sitting empty, but in practice, they’re used to deal with the most… problematic issues. Like Callum. This is the perfect place to teach lessons, whether temporary or the everlasting kind.
I kill the engine and climb out of the car, adrenaline already pumping through my veins as I stalk toward the side entrance with Cormac following close behind me.
Kieran greets us at the door, wiping his knuckles with arag already soaked with blood. “He’s alive. But he’s not talking.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I brush past him.
Inside, the air is thick with dust and oil and the faint tang of rusting metal mixed with blood. Crates are stacked in one corner, some still stamped with faded shipping labels, and a forklift sits abandoned near a cracked concrete pillar.
It’s a miserable place, which is exactly why I’ve brought Callum here.
Bolted to the concrete floor a few feet from the center of the room is a singular metal chair, where Callum is bound with chains around his wrists and ankles. His body sags as blood pours from his nose onto the ground, and one of his eyes is already swollen shut.
Brennan stands off to the side with his arms folded across his chest and a cold expression on his face. His hands look clean, which means this mess is all thanks to Kieran.
When I approach, Brennan dips his chin, and I offer him a nod in return before turning my attention to Callum.
“You look like shit.”
Callum winces as he tries to lift his head to look up at me. His hair is caked with blood, and a decent bruise is already starting to blossom across his cheekbone.
“Is this how you treat family?”
“Family? Who the fuck are you to lecture me about family? Do you want to tell me why the fuck you killed Max?”
“I didn’t do it. I swear to God, Ronan.”
I crouch in front of him, giving him no choice but to meet my gaze. “Where’s Mila?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try again.”
“I swear, I don’tknow.”
I thought Callum McCarthy was pathetic before, but seeing him like this almost makes me feel sorry for him.
Almost.
“I hope you are happy, now that Ciara’s missing, too. I swear to g?—”
Callum’s eyes widen. “Ciara’smissing?”
“Everything I’ve seen so far points to you. So, you better start talking before I let Kieran break your kneecaps.”
“I wasn’t even near Max when he died.” He spits as blood trickles down his chin and onto the white collar of his shirt, staining it red. “I can prove it.”
I frown as I glance up at Brennan.
“He’s been saying that since we dragged him in here.”
Callum coughs again, drawing my attention back to him.
“You better have some fucking iron-tight evidence.”
