“How do you think they’ll take it?” Marco asks, watching me carefully.
I shrug. “No fucking clue.”
Aoife’s still asleep upstairs, but not for long. Soon she’ll face all of them, every bloodline that built this empire.
Marco and Milo joke around, trying to keep things light, then Rosa steps outside, calm as smoke.
“They’re here,” she says. “Probably in the family room already. You’ve been summoned.”
Milo grins. “Sounds ominous.”
Aoife’s footsteps echo on the stairs. She moves slowly, still waking, then she sees me, and freezes on the spot, my face must say everything I can’t put into words.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods, but her eyes give her away. “How bad will it be?”
“They’re loud. Brutal. But they’re family.”
“Yours,” she whispers.
“Ours, if you want it.”
She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t pull away either.
Marco, Milo, and Rosa walk into the house and I stand with Aoife ready to face the family.
“No turning back now little lamb,” I whisper, and I look behind her looking into the family room. I draw in a deep breath and take her hand in mine, and together, we walk into the lion’s den.
The family room is already full.
The sun isn’t even up, and they’re ready to talk war over coffee.
Every head turns when we walk in.
To me. To her.
To the enemy.
I scan the room. Uncle Sebastian stands next to Father like he always does. Aunt Camilla and her husband, Vescari, stand by the marble fireplace. Their boys Armani and Raf, slouched and amused near the window. This family controls Hollow Drive with a steel hand and silk smiles.
Then there’s Uncle Luca and his wife, Francesca. Their twins, Enzo and Vito, lean back on the leather couches, whispering to each other, dangerous smirks on their faces.
But it’s the other side of the room, the ones from Grandmother’s bloodline, that makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Uncle Lorenzo, his brother Renzo, all eyes, all muscles. They run Hollow Coast and everything that touches it is salt-blooded waters. They were younger than Grandmother, and their kids all went to Blackstone too, Santino is the only one there now, but the rumors about the others, well fuck it’s enough to make me smile, and shiver at the same time.
Aoife squeezes my hand slightly; I glance down at her.
Thunder’s coming and we’re walking right into it.
The moment I step into the family room, it’s like stepping into a courtroom where I’m already guilty. Aoife is at my side, quiet, her presence igniting more than just suspicion, it’s fury. Every pair of eyes turn toward us. Judging. Calculating. Ready to attack.
Uncle Luca is the first to speak. “You’ve brought an O’Brien into this house?” His voice is sharp, slicing through the heavy silence like a blade.
“Not just an O’Brien,” spits Uncle Lorenzo, eyes blazing. “The O’Brien girl. The one promised to Rory.” Aunt Camilla’s husband rises to his feet, his knuckles whitening around the back of his chair.
I step forward, shielding Aoife slightly. “She’s not them,” I say, calm but loud enough. “She’s not her family.”
“Blood doesn’t lie!” someone snarls from the corner. It might be Santino, his dark eyes alight with disgust.
