PROLOGUE
NOLAN FARRELL
WITH TEARS IN my eyes, I stare at the bronze-colored coffin that holds the remains of my boy.
Teague wasn’t even sixteen years old yet. He had his whole life ahead of him…school, college, girlfriends, a wife…kids of his own someday that would make me a grandpa.
Feck, it must be true that only the good die young.
As head of the Irish Mob, I’ve seen a lot of bad things in my life. Things that could make the sanest of men question their own sanity and purpose.
Never have I felt guilt, remorse or utter and completeanguishlike I feel right now.
Teague is dead.
And he died at the hands of Giorgio Ciccone.
They held my boy captive. Tortured him for information. And then sent him back to me in pieces.
I gaze at the closed coffin. What I wouldn’t give to see his beautiful face one last time.
He was the splittin’ image of his mother.God rest her soul.
Feck, if she could see the destruction that has laid itself out in our family’s path and what happened to Teague…
I’m almost glad she’s gone. Just so she can’t bear witness to what has happened…and what must be done now that our boy is dead.
People come and go from the wake, passing by me in a blur. Soft cries filter in and out of my ears, but I can’t do a goddamn thing but stare at my boy’s coffin. My hands clench into fists on my thighs. I will not shed one tear for Teague. No. Instead, I will hold all of that anger inside of me until it boils in my fecking veins. And then, and only then, will I avenge his death.
My right-hand man, best friend and confidant,Connor Doherty, sits down next to me. He’s quiet, biding his time, waiting for me to do the talking. And when I finally do talk, it’s quite some time later. “T’int right. A father shouldn’t bury their son. It’s fecking wrong.”
“Aye, it is.” Connor takes a long hard look at me before asking the question that’s been on the tip of everyone’s tongue around here. “So, what are we gonna do about it?”
“I’m gonna do what must be done,” I tell him cryptically.
“Eye for an eye?” he offers with a snarl.
“Tooth for fecking tooth,” I agree with a sharp nod. That’s our motto. You feck with us…we’re gonna feck with you the same exact way…except ten times worse.
Giorgio Ciccone thought he could feck with my family and get away with it. We’ll see how well he fairs when I return the goddamn favor.
CHAPTER 1
VICTORIA
MY EYES SLOWLY blink open, and the starkness of the white room startles me. Bright light streams in from the large window, making me grimace in pain.
Why am I in the hospital?
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to remember what happened before I ended up here. My brain is so foggy, and I feel like my thoughts are too jumbled up in my mind to piece together anything that makes any sense.
The back of my head is killing me. And when my hand goes searching for the source of the pain, I come across a huge lump, which is too sore to even touch.
Was I in a car accident?
No, I don’t remember a crash…
I don’t even remember hitting my head.
