Viktor Tarasov.
He looks exactly how I remember him. Tall. Lean. The kind of build that comes from discipline, not bulk. Gray hair cropped close to his skull. A face that’s all angles. He’s wearing a dark coat, and he moves with the unhurried pace of a man who’s already won.
Ten men flank him. Rifles up. Trained on the three of us. Jason standing with a broken arm. Me on my knees in the grass beside a woman who can’t stand. Two guns between us. Jason’s in his good hand, hanging at his side. Mine is somewhere in the wreckage, gone when the car flipped.
The odds aren’t odds. They’re a death sentence.
Viktor stops fifteen feet away. He looks at the burning car. Then at Jason. Then at me.
“William Murphy.” His accent turns my name into something foreign. He says it like he’s reading it off a list. “I expected more of a fight.”
I don’t respond. I’m trying to get my legs under me. My knee buckles, and I catch myself on one hand and try again. This time it holds. I stand. It costs me everything I have.
“Your driver was one of mine,” Viktor says. “Has been for six weeks. Since before your little summit with the families.” He tilts his head. “You should vet your people more carefully.”
Jason moves beside me. Slow. His good hand tightening around the gun at his side.
“Don’t,” Viktor says without looking at him. Three of his men adjust their aim. “I have no interest in your brother, William. He’s irrelevant. He’s been irrelevant since he married into my family and then ran from it.”
“Fuck you.” Jason’s voice is tight with pain.
Viktor ignores him. His eyes stay on me.
“You killed my men tonight,” he says. “Thirty-seven of them. That’s expensive. That’s the kind of cost that demands a return.”
“You attacked my family.” I straighten. The pain in my ribs makes every breath feel like swallowing glass. “You shot Dillon O’Rourke. You burned my house. You came to this country and thought you could take what we built.”
“I didn’tthink. I did.” Viktor’s mouth moves into something that’s not quite a smile. “Your father’s empire was falling apart long before I arrived. I simply helped it along.”
My fists clench. The split knuckles crack open, and blood runs fresh between my fingers.
“You want to kill me,” Viktor observes. “Good. That’s honest. More honest than the rest of this.” He gestures at the burning car. “But you’re unarmed, William. Bleeding. Your woman is barely conscious. Your brother has one working arm. And I have ten men with rifles.” He steps closer. “So let’s be practical.”
“I’m not interested in practical.”
“No. You’re interested in legacy. In being the Murphy who held the line. The one who didn’t break.” He studies me. “I know about you, William. The drinking. The recovery. The way your father treated you. The way Alex passed over every other brother to put you in that chair.” His eyes narrow. “I know why he chose you. Because you’re the one who can take a hit and keep standing. That’s useful. That’s rare. And it’s the reason I’m going to offer you something none of the other families got.”
“I don’t want your offer.”
“You want to hear it.” He pauses. “Walk away. Take your woman. Take your brothers. Leave Ireland. I’ll let you live. All of you. You have my word.”
“Your word.” I almost laugh. “You just put a missile into my car.”
“Because you refused to listen to reason. Because you assembled a coalition against me. Because you forced my hand.” He says it calmly. Like we’re discussing a business disagreement. “But the coalition is broken now. Your base of operations is burning. Half the men who pledged to you tonight are dead or scattered. It’s over, William. You just haven’t accepted it yet.”
Behind me, Aoife makes a sound. Small. Pained. I don’t turn around because if I take my eyes off Viktor, I’m dead, but the sound goes through me like a blade.
“Last chance,” Viktor says.
I look at him. This man, who came to Ireland and tore through everything my father built. Everything Alex bled for. Everything I’ve been killing myself to hold together. This man, who put a bullet in Dillon O’Rourke and sent a missile into a car carrying the woman I’ll never say the words for but would die beside without thinking about it.
“No.”
Viktor exhales. Almost disappointed. He raises his hand.
Engine noise. Loud. Coming fast from the road behind us. Headlights cutting through the fog. Not one set. Multiple. Tearing down the narrow road at speed.
Viktor’s men turn. Half of them. Rifles swinging toward the new threat.
