“You still want to see him?” he asks eventually, voice rough.
“Yes.” I swallow. “With you.”
“Then we will.” His mouth finds my hair. “And then we’ll walk out together. Free.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and allow myself the sin of believing him for one stolen night. In the morning, I’ll pick up the blade of my resolve again. Because a part of me fears I’ll never truly be free, not from the Quinlans or the McKennas. For now, I let my hand rest over the blossom beneath my shirt and feel his heartbeat knock softly against my other palm, an answer my body understands before my mouth does.
CHAPTER 44
THE LAST WORD
Matteo
Leo’s crew ghosts into the McKenna compound ahead of us, black-clad shadows sliding through hedges and over the low stone wall I’ve already memorized three ways to breach. I don’t trust Seamus as far as I can throw him. I’ve already seen firsthand what loyalty means to the McKennas. Two men peel off toward the carriage house, one takes the rear garden, and another scales the drainpipe to the dormer window Cat’s brother probably used to climb out of as a boy. The hand signal comes a minute later.
Clear, for now.
I walk around the car and open Cat’s door. “My lady…” With a silly bow, I do my best British accent. Anything to distract her. The mood in the car grew heavier with every inch closer to her childhood home.
She tries not to smile, but she does anyway. I reach for her hand and half-expect her not to take it. When she does, I give it a quick squeeze that says all the words we don’t have time for.
The home she grew up in looks exactly like the sort of place that ingrains hardness into your bones. We walk up to the door, and dim light seeps through the iron letter slot. A Virgin sits in a chipped niche watching our approach, reminding me of a similar one mynonnakept in her garden. I keep my weapon low but ready as we pause at the door.
Cat’s hand closes around the old iron knob, and she draws in a breath, squaring her shoulders. She crosses the threshold, and something in her crosses into somewhere I can’t follow.
The woman from last night, the one who said I love you like a secret and a dare, folds herself up and locks the box. What’s left is blade-cold and steady, breathing like she learned it under orders. Her chin tips up, and her whole body stiffens. Assassin, not girl. Soldier, not lover.
Seamus waits in the sitting room like he’s hosting a wake. His gray hair is sharply trimmed, jaw carved into a permanent scowl. They’re Donal’s eyes, minus the humor. The fire beside him ticks low, the steady crackle the only sound.
His gaze flicks to me, notes the gun, then lands on Caitríona and stays there. Disgust curdles the air.
“So,” he grates out, voice rough as gravel. “There she is. Not my daughter, only shame with a story.”
Cat doesn’t blink. “Hello, Da. Missed ya too.”
“Is that all you are now?” His mouth twists. “Some Italian’s shadow?”
“No,” she grits out.
“You couldn’t manage the one job I gave you, could you? Three chances and you still missed. And now what?”
Heat pops behind my ribs. “Careful, McKenna,” I utter, voice an eerie calm.
He doesn’t look at me. “The Rossi pup has a voice. Imagine that.” Then, to Cat, soft but laced in poison. “You’re a disappointment, girl. Your mother would?—”
“Don’t you say another fucking word,” I snap, and it hits the mantle like a crack of thunder. The hell I’m going to just stand here silently as thispezzo di merdaberates my Cat. Besides, from everything I’ve heard about her mother, she would be thrilled to see her daughter escape this life. Why else would she have run?
Cat’s eyes tip to mine for half a second, both a warning and a thank you. “Don’t waste your breath.” Her tone is glacial. It’s not anger, just resignation. She turns back to him. “I didn’t come for approvalorabsolution. I came to say I’m done.”
Seamus laughs once, it’s too sharp and sounds all wrong. “You don’t get to be done. This family is not a hobby, Caitríona.”
“Then call it what it really is.” Her voice remains remarkably steady despite the storm I can feel brewing just beneath the surface. “It’s a leash I’m cutting.”
He rises a fraction from his chair, age and fury bracing the same bones. “You think you can walk away from this house and not have it follow you? From our name? From the men we owe and the ones who owe us?”
“I think I’ve already been followed enough.” She tilts her head, and for the first time something hot slips under the ice. “Did you know about Donal?”
Seamus stills. “Know what?”
