I answered with what little I knew. “Because, according to Sinclair, Madigan knows the truth.”
Gunner’s tone grew serious. “The truth about what?”
I could only shrug. “That’s the million-dollar question, and why I need to find them.”
Michael leaned against the door frame, his voice steady but grave. “Then you’re going to need more than my help. You’re going to need someone who knows this city better than you do. Someone who can get in and out of places without being seen. Someone who knows the score and doesn’t give a damn who he has to kill to get what he wants.”
I met his gaze without flinching. “I can do all those things, Michael.”
But Michael shook his head firmly. “No, you can’t. Not with who you really are. Think about it, Rowen. You’re the son of the head of the Irish Republican Army. That alone puts a bullseye on your back, and that’s not even considering who your birthmother is. You have ties to two different organizations; either one will kill you the second they learn you’re a threat to them.”
I tried to dismiss his concerns. “I’m not a threat to anyone. I’m a professor. That’s it.”
Michael’s response was blunt and forceful. “Bullshit,” he growled. “You are more than that and you know it, and the sooner you accept that, the quicker we can do what needs to be done.”
Chapter Forty
Melissa
It was late—the kind of late when the world softened and every sound seemed amplified. I felt the mattress dip behind me, the warmth of Rowen’s presence seeping through the covers. I rolled over but said nothing, watching him lie on his back, one hand behind his head, eyes trained on the ceiling, lost in thought. From downstairs, the faint creak of old floorboards and the gentle hum of the house settling made the silence between us feel heavier. The second we arrived back at Sinclair’s house, Rowen and my brother had disappeared into Sinclair’s office, leaving me with too much quiet and too many questions.
I edged closer, pressing my forehead against his shoulder, my voice barely above a whisper. “Promise me something?”
His head turned toward me, eyes soft in the dim light. “Anything.”
“No more planes. At least for a while.” My fingers traced lazy circles over his shirt, searching for reassurance.
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Understood,” he murmured, his arm slipping around my waist, anchoring me closer.
I exhaled, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease just a little. “I made a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow. Haizley said she’d come if you can’t.” The words floated between us, tinged with hope and uncertainty.
He shifted, concern threading through his voice. “Is everything okay?”
“I think so,” I said, my voice small. “It just feels like it’s time. Rowen...” I hesitated, the question heavy on my tongue. “How do you really feel about me carrying Travis’ baby?”
A flicker of pain crossed his face before he masked it with a gentle smile. He reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “You were already pregnant when we met. That doesn’t change how I feel, even knowing Travis was my brother.” He paused, letting out a shaky breath. “He’s not here anymore, but in a way, it feels right that a part of him still is.”
Rowen was quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing slow circles along my wrist. “But honestly? I’ve never stopped thinking about it. Sometimes I worry I’m not enough, or that you’ll look at me and see everything you’ve lost.”
His voice was steady, but I could hear the ache behind it.
I reached for his hand, threading my fingers through his. “You’re not a replacement, Rowen. I want this life with you, even if it’s not the one I envisioned for myself.” My admission felt like a weight off my chest, and I saw him relax, shoulders sinking into the mattress.
Rowen’s voice was gentle as he broke our comfortable quiet. “What did you picture?” he asked, his question settling over us like a soft blanket. I could tell he truly wanted to know—the kind of knowing that reached further than words.
My lips curled into a wistful smile, memories pressing at the edges of my mind. “Honestly? I used to imagine a simple life. A house—nothing fancy, just a place that felt safe—with two or three kids running circles around me. Maybe a dog to chase them, and a cat to keep me humble. I craved a sense of stability, something sturdy and real, because I never had that growing up.” My words tumbled out, carrying the weight of dreams reshaped by reality. “But everything changed. I never expected I’d become a mother to a little girl who wasn’t technically mine—who I love as fiercely as if she were. Or that her parents, Dannyand Dante, would be the ones parenting alongside me. They’re wonderful—two men who are deeply in love with each other, and who drive me crazy in the best and worst ways.” I let out a quiet laugh, then sobered. “And when I found out I was pregnant with Travis’ baby... Fear hit me like a wave. I was terrified. I didn’t know how to tell Travis. The thought of raising a child in the world of motorcycle clubs—the one Travis belonged to, the Silver Shadows—felt impossible to bear. I’d seen too much growing up, and I never wanted my child to know that life.”
Rowen shifted closer, his expression full of understanding. “He walked away once for you. He would have done it again.” His words were soft, but they landed heavily with the truth of old sacrifices.
I released his hand and drew my knees to my chest, searching Rowen’s face. “He told you that?” My voice trembled with a mix of longing and regret I couldn’t quite hide.
“Yeah,” Rowen whispered, his eyes shadowed by memories. “On the flight back to Nebraska. We talked, just the two of us.” The distance between us shrank as he shared this piece of Travis with me—a brother’s final confidences.
I hesitated, a fierce ache blooming in my chest. There was so much I wished I could ask—what Travis had said, what he’d hoped or feared in those last days—but the words caught in my throat. Some things felt too fragile to say aloud. Instead, I found myself whispering, “I had the chance to ask him to stay. But I didn’t. Why didn’t I, Rowen?”
It was more than a question—it was a confession of guilt I couldn’t seem to let go.
Rowen reached for my hand, his thumb drawing slow circles on my wrist—a quiet comfort. “Because you wanted him to be happy,” he said softly. “Travis told me it was easier for him to let you decide, to give you what you wanted, even if it meant swallowing his own needs. He loved you, Melissa. Enough toput your happiness before his. He knew you’d been hurt before, that you didn’t have the safe childhood you deserved, and he never wanted to add to your pain.” With each word, some of the sharpness in my regret was dulled by understanding.
