Father did lose everything. Did choose pride over family. Did force Alex into an impossible choice.
And I never knew.
"Don't," I say, but the word has no force behind it.
"Don't what?" Frank's voice is almost gentle now. Almost sympathetic. "Don't tell you the truth about what Edward really was? About why your family fell apart?"
The words hit like bullets.
Because he's right.
I'm only sitting in Father's chair because Alex killed him to save Jason. Because Alex left rather than face what he'd done. Because Jason left with Kira to escape the Bratva connections Frank built. Because Matty can't lead and Aidan doesn't want to. I'm the last option. The desperate choice. The man they're all hoping can somehow save them.
And I can't.
I can barely save myself.
"I need the shares," Frank says quietly. He's watching my face, reading every emotion I can't hide. "I need the advisory position. That's my price for the intelligence you need to survive. Non-negotiable."
"And the mole?" I force the question past the tightness in my throat. "You give me the name after I agree?"
"No." Frank's smile returns. "I give you the name when I have what I want. When the shares are transferred. When I'm sitting at the table again. Then, and only then, will you know who's betraying you."
It's manipulation. Classic Frank Murphy manipulation. Give me just enough to make me desperate. Hold back the crucial piece. Force me to commit before I know what I'm really getting.
I should walk away. Should tell Frank to fuck off. Should find another way to protect my family.
But there is no other way.
Viktor Tarasov is planning something big. The mole is feeding him intelligence. And tomorrow night, everyone I care about will be gathered in one place, making themselves easy targets.
I need Frank's information.
Even if it means selling my soul to get it.
"If I agree," I say slowly, hating every word, "and you're lying. If your information is bullshit, if you're playing me—"
"Then you can kill me yourself." Frank's voice is steady. Sure. "I'll even hand you the gun."
We stare at each other. Uncle and nephew. Two Murphy men who hate each other, need each other, and are willing to destroy each other to survive.
The water laps against the pier pilings below us. The wind picks up, carrying the smell of salt and decay. Somewhere in the distance, a ship's horn sounds.
I think of my brothers. Of Aidan trying to hold everything together. Of Matty struggling with demons I don't understand. Of Alex, wherever he is, carrying the weight of Father's murder.
I think of Father himself. Of finding him hanging in that office. Of cutting him down. Of the rage and grief and guilt that's been eating me alive ever since.
And I make a choice.
The kind of choice that damns you.
The kind there's no coming back from.
"Fine." The word tastes like poison. "You get your shares back. You get an advisory position. You sit at the table."
Frank's expression doesn't change. But something flickers in his eyes. Victory. Satisfaction.
Triumph.
