She blinks. “Why?”
“Bloke hurt my sister, Bronwyn. Not the kidnapping—this was before that. He… touched her. At a party.”
Erin's expression doesn't change, but her fingers stop tapping. “And your da found out.”
“Aye. Beat him bloody. Broke his jaw, three ribs, and fractured his skull. Would've kept going if Seamus and I hadn’t intervened. When the police arrived, I was the one standing over him. And that was on purpose.”
She blinks. “How long were you in?”
“Six months. Got out early for good behavior.” I snort. “Barely.”
She nods, filing the information away like she's adding it to a spreadsheet in her mind. “Your brother Torin. He’s in prison too?”
“Aye. He’s got time to serve, still.”
“I'm sorry,” she says. And the thing is, she sounds like she means it. Not performative. Just… factual.
We sit in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft snorting of horses in their stalls.
“Your cousins,” she says eventually. “And your uncles. Tell me about them.”
I settle back, glad for the change in subject.
“Ashland's older than me. Uncle Nolan’s son. He's…” I search for the words. “Dangerous. Quiet about it though. You'd never know unless you saw him work. He's Seamus's enforcer. When someone needs to disappear, Ashland handles it.”
“Disappear as in leave town, or disappear as in die?”
“Both, depending.”
She nods like I've just told her he's an accountant.
“And Lorcan?”
“Uncle Nolan's boy, Ashland and Donovan’s brother. He was at the dinner? Built like a tank. Does security, mostly. Studied engineering at Trinity before he dropped out to work for the family.”
“Why did he drop out?”
“His da got shot. Nearly died. Lorcan came home to help run things with Donovan while Nolan recovered.”
“That's loyal.”
“That's family.”
She absorbs this, filing it away. “And your uncles? Cormac and Nolan?”
“Aye. Da's younger brothers. Once ran the clan, but they’re older now, with families of their own, so they don’t hold the weight in the clan they once did, and now their sons are of age. Still, they’re well respected and hold heavy clout in Ballyhock. You don't fuck with the McCarthys because of them.”
“And your father?”
“Head of the family. Was, anyway, until he handed it to Seamus. He retired after the… incident.” The one that sent me and Torin to prison. “But he's still the most dangerous man in Ireland when he wants to be.”
Erin's quiet for a moment, processing. Then, “Your family operates in a clear hierarchical structure. Patriarchal, militaristic. Roles are defined by skill set and reinforced through loyalty and violence.” She gives me a curious glance. “And your family’s… prolific, one could say.”
I smile. The lass is bloody brilliant, if a bit quirky.
“You writin’ an essay, lass? That's one way to put it.”
“It's the most accurate way.” She tilts her head. “My family is different.”
