"Smart boy," he says softly.
"But," I continue, my voice hard now, "you fuck me over even once, you give me bad intelligence, you use this position to hurt my family in any way, and I won't just kill you, Frank. I'll make you beg for it first."
"Understood." Frank extends his hand. "Do we have a deal?"
I look at his hand. Clean. Manicured. The hand of a man who's never done his own dirty work. The hand of a snake.
The hand I'm about to shake.
I take it.
His grip is firm. Strong. The handshake of a man who knows he's won.
"Viktor is planning to hit the engagement party," Frank says, releasing my hand. "Multiple shooters. Coordinated. They want maximum casualties. Maximum chaos."
"How many shooters?" My mind is already racing, planning, strategizing.
"At least three. Maybe more." Frank's voice is matter-of-fact. "Professionals. Not the kind who miss."
Like the one who shot Dillon O'Rourke. The precision. The timing. The escape.
"Where will they position themselves?" I ask.
"I don't know the specifics yet." Frank tilts his head. "But I'll find out. I'll get you whatever intelligence I can before tomorrow night. Positions. Numbers. Timing."
"And the mole?" I can't keep the desperation out of my voice. "You'll tell me who it is?"
"When your lawyers draw up the paperwork transferring my shares." Frank's smile is sharp. "When I'm officially back in the family business. Then you'll get the name."
It's blackmail. Pure and simple. But it's also strategic.
And I hate that I understand it.
"Fine," I say again. The word is getting easier to say. That's how I know I'm making a mistake. When selling out gets easy, when compromising feels natural, that's when you know you've crossed a line you can't uncross. "I'll have the paperwork ready by tomorrow."
"Good." Frank looks back out over the water. "Viktor is playing a long game, William. This isn't just about territory or money. He wants to break the Irish families completely. Make an example of us. Show the world what happens when you stand against the Bratva."
"Then we'll show him what happens when he fucks with the Murphys."
Frank laughs. It's a genuine sound, surprised and pleased. "There's hope for you yet."
"Don't," I warn. "Don't pretend we're family. Don't pretend this is anything other than a business transaction. You want your power back. I want information. That's all this is."
"Of course." Frank's expression goes neutral again. "Business. Nothing personal."
Everything about this is personal.
But I don't say that. I just turn and walk back down the pier, each step echoing on the old wood. The planks creak beneath my feet. Some shift dangerously. But I keep moving, putting distance between myself and the deal I just made.
The deal that might save my family.
Or might destroy us all.
When I reach solid ground, I pull out my phone. Aidan's name is at the top of my recent calls. I need to tell him what just happened. Need to explain that I brought Frank back into the family. That I'm giving him shares and power and influence.
But I can't.
Not yet.
