Because I have to.
Ronan can think this wedding gives him the upper hand, but the moment I’m close enough to strike, I will.
And I won’t stop until I’ve destroyed his entire family.
Chapter Nine
RONAN
The cemetery isquiet as we all stand around the freshly dug grave.
No one cries. My father would have hated it if we did. He was never one to show or allow emotion, especially when it came to death.
But just because I can’t show it, doesn’t mean I’m not hurting. So, I grind my teeth together and ball my hands into fists at my sides to try and ignore the gut-wrenching pain in my chest as I stare down at his coffin.
This is where his story ends, but his voice still echoes in my head like he’s standing with me, telling me to fix my goddamn tie and quit scowling.
I do neither.
Brennan stands to my left with his hands clasped in front of him like he’s at mass, his eyes cast downward. Kieran stands on my right side, his jaw clenched and a dark look in his eyes.
I glance around at the other family members, including Lorcan, as well as old friends of my father’s and a few of our most trusted men.
We decided to keep the funeral small, with just enough people to make a statement but not enough to draw attention.
Today isn’t about politics. It’s about saying goodbye to Da.
I catch Lorcan’s eye across the grave and dip my chin at him.
He’s done well to keep it together for my brothers and me, but this ordeal has taken its toll in the dark purple bruising beneath his eyes and the deep crease between his eyebrows.
My eyes scan our surroundings as the priest continues with his blessing.
It’s a bleak day, and the sun is hidden behind an expanse of dark rain clouds, which look like they’re about to open up any minute. It’s likely the press is hidden around, and despite the fact that we have security everywhere, I can’t help but feel uneasy.
Is whoever shot my father going to show up for round two?
I feel for the gun tucked into my waistband as I continue to scan the trees.
And then I see him.
Cormac.
My brother is standing just far enough away to stay in the shadows of the trees but close enough to see everything, his expression completely unreadable.
He couldn’t be bothered to return a damn phone call, yet he got on a plane from California to be here?
When my family was getting ready at the house this morning and Cormac was still a no-show, part of me genuinely thought he didn’t know about our father’s death. That he had been on some massive bender, turned his phone off, and was still to hear the news.
But to avoid all media coverage of our father’s death would have been near impossible. The press has been salivating over this for days, but he never once called to even acknowledge it.
So, why is he here, watching from a distance?
Then again, that’s been Cormac’s style for the past few years.
As I look at my brother, a heavy weight settles on my chest. Part of me wants to abandon the graveside and go to him, to demand he tell me what the hell is going on, but I know better.
Cormac doesn’t want to be seen. At least not yet. He’s always been the kind of man who comes back onhisterms, and I have to respect that.
