The phone keeps ringing. I let it. I let it because if I answer I will hear Da and once his words spool out, I will be one more thread pulled too taut until I snap. If I answer, I will lie. If I answer, I will say what he wants:I’m close. I’ll finish it. Don’t worry. And the lie will live for another hour and then another call will come, and it’ll begin all over.
I stand again because I just can’t keep still and press my forehead to the cool glass of the window, letting the city hum blur the panic into something manageable. I should be makinga plan. I should be lining up scopes and exits, counting angles. Instead, I think of Matteo’s face when the ladder broke, the way he hit the pavement like something alive and fragile. And I taste salt water, and for an instant I’m eighteen on the jetty and not an assassin with an order above her name. More than an order, it’s my duty as Eoin’s fiancée. I should want revenge… But I feel nothing. This directive from Quinlan is just another cage.
The incessant buzzing finally stops. I let out a breath I didn’t remember holding. And for a minute, I can breathe again.
Then the front door lock clicks, and the thick metal is thrown open. Sean barges in before I make it halfway to the entry. He moves like he owns the air in the room with his jacket slung over one arm and his hand wrapped tight around his phone. The bruiser smile is gone, replaced with something thin and purposeful. He drops the cell in front of me like a weapon.
“It’s him,” Sean barks. No greeting, no small talk. “Answer it.”
For a breath, I consider throwing the phone across the room. The hand that wants to do it twitches. Instead, I fold my fingers around the handset and pull it to my ear. Da’s voice is there before I press accept, a river in flood.
“Where the hell are you?” he spits. No hello. No softening. Only thunder.
I clamp my jaw. “Here.”
“A week. A fecking week, Caitríona. We gave you a week and you’ve made a mess. You’re hanging around in Manhattan like some tourist. You’ve been seen, and people are talking.” The words tumble like rocks. He doesn’t bother to lower his volume for Sean, who stands with his arms crossed, silent and unfazed.
“What are you doing over there?”
“Watching,” I snarl back.
Watching isn’t the whole truth, but it’s not a complete lie either. The truth is I watched him fall, and I didn’t pull thetrigger. The truth is the memories came punching back into my chest and froze me right there. The truth is I am not the unfeeling machine they thought they built.
“Da,” I murmur. My voice is a thread. “I had a shot?—”
“You had a shot, and you froze.” The hammer drops. “You froze and now Tiernan’s breathing down my neck and the Quinlans are itching for blood. They think we let Matteo walk free. They think we’re weak. Do you understand what that does? To the family? To our name?”
Sean’s jaw ticks. I can tell he’s not the kind to let family things slide either. His eyes flash with impatience and calculation. He leans against the window and watches me like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to unlock before Tiernan gets the pieces.
“Donal says he’ll go himself,” Da continues. “His bags are packed and ready. But you’re the one who made a promise to Quinlan. He was your fiancé, damn it. Don’t make me send your brother, girl. Kill Matteo Rossi in twenty-four hours or your brother will finish this, and it’ll bring shame upon the infamous Angel of Death and our entire family.”
My brother’s name lurches in my chest like a fist. Donal with a rifle in his hands, with the cold eyes that never blink. My brother who would not hesitate a second longer than necessary. He would put a bullet through Matteo’s skull without blinking and take every shred of me with him.
My throat closes on all the words I can’t say. Twenty-four hours. That’s not a deadline. It’s a trap. It’s a countdown that begins the moment my father hangs up.
The apartment spins, my hand is shaking. “Da—” I try to push. Plead. Explain.
There’s a static rasp as someone speaks on the other end… Tiernan? Da’s growl swallows it down, but I can hear the blood in his words. This is bigger than me. Bigger than revenge. Bigger than whatever personal war I thought I was waging.
“It’s over.” He cuts me off, brief as a blade. “I don’t want to hear your voice again until it’s done.”
Click.
The line goes dead. The apartment suddenly feels too large, and the air presses against my lungs. Twenty-four hours. Donal. Tiernan’s threats like a shadow at the door. The weight of the locket at my throat suddenly feels like an anvil.
Sean stays for a beat longer, then steps closer. He lets the silence stretch until I look at him. “He said Tiernan’s threatening to turn this whole thing on us. If you don’t do it, he’s gonna come after the whole family and that trickles down to you, to me. He’ll take what he wants.”
His tone isn’t kind. It isn’t cruel either, it’s survival.
“I’ll do it,” I grit out.
Sean watches me for a long moment like he’s weighing my truth. Then he lets out a breath that could be a laugh or a curse. “You better. For all our sakes.”
I nod, lips pressed in a tight line.
“You don’t have to like it.” His words are low like an afterthought. “You just have to finish the job. Donal’s a machine. He will get it done, and he won’t care who gets smeared in the process. That’s your choice. His choice will get more people killed.”
He steps closer, invading the small space between us until I can smell the faint hint of tobacco on his skin. I take a step back instinctively.
