“Yes,” Seamus agrees.
“I’m not saying the alliance with the Kopolovs isn’t valuable,” Kyla says. “But now that it’s secured… we need more. Something different.” She straightens her shoulders and sighs. “Marry me off, then.”
The words hit hard. Bronwyn gapes, and Mam goes still, but Kyla continues. “Marry me to someone who’ll benefit the family, won’t you?”
My stomach turns.
Kyla. Offering herself up like a lamb to slaughter. For us. For the family.
Because that’s what we do—we sacrifice and break ourselves on the altar of the McCarthy name.
We all will, in the end.
“Kyla—” Mam gasps, stunned. “It doesn’t have to come to that.”
But Seamus doesn’t argue. Neither does my father.
“Who?” she asks, her voice thin now. “Who can you marry me to that would make our family stronger?”
No one who deserves you, lass.
“I can’t tell you how grateful we are for your sacrifice, love,” my father says. “But I can’t think of a single person. In fact, it’s the opposite. Right now, the strongest move we can make—thesmartest—is to expand our trade routes. Cavin, tell us the latest about your work, son, will you?”
So I tell them. As a gun runner to Belfast, my work’s only increased in the past months. Doubled since this time last year.
“The East Coast is secured. Ballyhock is as strong as ever. There’stalk the Boston Irish also want access, but right now, it’s just that. Talk.”
“Right,” Seamus says, eyes narrowing. “What wereallyneed is access to the West Coast and south of Ireland. Killarney. Cork. Galway.”
I walk to the wall, stabbing a finger at the map. “Here. The lines. The docks. All of it.” I shake my head. “If we could secure that connection, get access to the West Coast trade, we’d be…”
I stop myself.
Unstoppable. Fucking invincible.
And worth killing for.
“Did you say the West Coast?” Mum says, her voice soft. We all turn. She smiles faintly. “Funny, isn’t it?”
We say nothing and just wait.It’s clear she’s thinking, coming to grips with what she has to say next.
“Well then. Maybe it’s not one of my daughters we’ll have to marry off…”
Silence.
Her eyes lock on mine.
Me.
“Maybe it’s one of my sons.”
My blood goes ice cold.
No. No fucking way.
“What’re you on about, Mam?” Seamus asks.
“Tara Kavanagh came to me today. She heard about the bombing. Heard Bronwyn went missing. You know we’ve been friendly since your school days at St. Albert’s, right?”
