“I’m never leaving,” she vows, forehead pressed to mine. “Never.”
A shaky smile pulls at my mouth. “Mrs Brady.”
“Mister Brady,” she whispers back, eyes shining.
I drag her closer and kiss her harder, hungry, possessive, pouring every second I thought I’d lost her into it. She’s warm and alive and trembling in my arms, and the monitors can scream all they want.
She’s my lifeline. My world. My everything.
Forever, my Autumn.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Flynn
9 Days Later
Istand shoulder to shoulder with Declan in the old warehouse on the edge of the city. Judgement Day.
The last time we stood on this concrete floor, it was for Alek. Knife, blood, a quick end. Tonight will be slower.
The Keeffes sit stone-faced in the front row. Kian and Connor flank them. At the far end, beneath a single hanging bulb, Autumn and Viviana stand hand-in-hand. I told her not to come. She looked me dead in the eye and said, “I need to see all of you, Flynn. The parts you hide too.” Viviana had already warned her what happens here. Still, my gut twists watching her now, pale, lips pressed thin, knuckles white around Viviana’s fingers.
“You ready, brother?” Declan murmurs.
I nod once. We’re both in black suits, black shirts, black boots. Funeral colours. My pulse kicks hard as we climb the three steps to the low wooden stage. The room is packed: guards shoulder-to-shoulder, Consortium old guard, the Russians filling the back like a wall of winter coats. Mila stayed home. Smart girl.
“Silence.”
My voice cuts through the low rumble. Every mouth shuts. You could hear a round chamber.
I step back. Declan moves centre stage.
“Tonight we uphold the laws of the Irish Consortium,” he begins, pacing slow. “The Flanagan name sat at this table for four generations. They knew the rules better than anyone. Those rules are the only reason we still breathe.” He stops. Lets the words hang. “Until John Flanagan decided they no longer applied to him.”
A growl ripples through the crowd.
Declan raises one hand. Instant silence.
He nods to the side wing.
Kaden drags Flanagan out by the chain around his neck. The man stumbles, wrists bound, face already swollen and split from earlier “conversations.” Blood crusts his collar.
Declan’s voice turns to ice. “John Flanagan attempted to murder Flynn Brady, my right hand, next in line to lead this Consortium.”
My gaze flicks to Autumn. Her eyes are huge, dark, fixed on me.
Declan continues, gesturing to Kaden. “He put a bullet in Kaden for protecting him.”
The men nod, looking at Kaden with respect and admiration.
“Then he sold us all to the Russians for a better price.” Declan turns to Rurik. The big man lifts his chin, calm, lethal. “Only our friends chose loyalty over money.”
The warehouse vibrates with shouted agreement.
Declan looks straight at Flanagan now.
“Tonight the Consortium answers betrayal the old way.”
