“Mate, what the hell?” Christian strides towards us, his tone sharp. Declan tenses beside me.
“Leave it, Christian,” I warn, stepping forward.
“The Bratva leader is to be treated with respect. Everything needs to be perfect,” Declan says, low but commanding. Christian nods quickly.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it will.” Tiernan extends his hand to Declan, and Declan takes it.
We mount the bikes. The engines roar to life, echoing off the concrete walls until the garage fills with sound. At the intersection, the Callaghans veer off towards the mansion while Kaden and I head for the city.
The ride is calm tonight, no rain for once, so I ease the throttle and let the air settle my thoughts.
John Flannaghan is the oldest of us, the family leaders, at least. A little over forty, always the quiet one. He spent his time buried in family life: wife, son, daughter, all grown now. They barely show up at events anymore. He used to be close with Nolan, both of them feeding off their shared hatred of the Callaghans and of me, ever since I became Declan’s right arm. They used to hide it well, but since Nolan’s death, things changed.
During the Dark Wars, John panicked. Took his family out of Ireland.
That part I can understand.
Afterwards, he didn’t return. Claimed his wife wouldn’t let him. That didn’t sit well with the Callaghans. Nolan paid him a visit and didn’t return until things cooled.
The Dark Wars were hell. The Irish Consortium bled against Alek Volkov and his men. When it ended, Alek vanished underground, but not before he blew up warehouses and shipments, keeping our nerves on edge. John learned quick that he couldn’t run forever.
Now we have peace, finally. And the fool wants to risk it all again, pulling us back into a fight with the Bratva. These aren’t Alek’s men. This is the Russian Mafia. We don’t show fear, but we respect them. Especially when they were the ones who reached out first to do business.
The building looms ahead; the city’s quiet, the weather sharper, colder. We pull into the underground garage and park the bikes.
“You can have the night off, Kaden,” I tell him. He grins, cocky as ever, and I shake my head.
“Thanks, boss.” He ditches the bike and heads for his SUV, a matte black Range Rover Sport, all muscle and money.
I take the elevator up. Security floods the place. Cameras, motion detectors, thermal readers. A full team monitors the floor below mine. Declan’s orders, for all of us in the Consortium. No exceptions.
It was the first time Flanaghan ever got that aggressive. Got in Declan’s face, real fucking close. He’s always been vocal, sure, but he keeps it polished. Political. Controlled. Today? Fucking hell. No leash, no mask. Like he’s spiralling.
And then there’s her.
Autumn.
My little liar.
Part of me wants to show up at her door, press her against the wall and tear the truth out of her lips. But I know exactly what’ll happen if I do. I’ll lose control.
She’s already buried under my skin. Haunting my thoughts. Feeding this fucking obsession is the worst thing I could do, for her, for me, for the entire goddamn Consortium.
Still…
She was fucking perfect. Even as a virgin, she took me like a queen. No hesitation. No fear. She didn’t push me away; she pulled me in, held me between her thighs like she wanted to brand me there.
I never go back. Not unless there’s an arrangement. I fuck and move on. Always, but her?
I’d go back.
Once.
Twice.
Every time.
Letting out a rough groan, I strip off my suit jacket, then my shirt. My muscles are tight as steel cables. The bruise on my side, courtesy of Declan, has bloomed purple and black. Bastard hits like a fucking bulldozer.
