Even destroying the last good parts of himself to protect the people he loves.
The estate comes into view.
I pull through the gates and park in front of the main entrance.
And I sit there for a long moment, hands on the steering wheel, staring at the house. The house that's both a prison and a fortress. The house where I'll either save my family or watch them die.
No pressure.
I laugh. It comes out bitter and broken.
Then I get out of the car and walk inside to face whatever comes next.
I close the door behind me, and the sound echoes through the empty foyer. Somewhere in this house, Aoife is preparingfor tomorrow. Somewhere, Aidan is coordinating security. Somewhere, my family is trusting me to lead them through this.
And I'm trusting Frank Murphy to give me the intelligence I need.
God help us all.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Aoife
THE DRESS IS beautiful.
Midnight blue silk that catches the light, falls like water over my hips, pools at my feet. The bodice is fitted, structured, holding me together when I feel like I'm falling apart. Off-the-shoulder sleeves that bare my collarbones, my throat, the places where a pulse beats too fast.
I look like a bride.
I feel like a sacrifice.
My hands smooth down the silk. The fabric is cool, smooth, perfect. No wrinkles. No flaws. Not like me. Not like the woman underneath who's fracturing with every breath.
The mirror shows someone I barely recognize. Hair swept up in an elegant twist, held in place by diamond pins that belongedto William's mother. Makeup applied by a professional who came to my room an hour ago, made my face into a mask of beauty. Pale skin, dark lashes, lips painted the color of wine.
I look untouched by violence.
I look like I haven't been covered in my father's blood only two days ago, sitting for long hours in hospital chairs, watching machines breathe for the man who raised me.
I look like a perfect Mafia princess.
The illusion is flawless.
Downstairs, I can hear them arriving. Car doors slamming. Voices carrying through the late afternoon air. Laughter that sounds obscene when my father is fighting for his life in a hospital bed twenty miles away.
They're here for the engagement party. Here to celebrate the alliance between the Murphys and the O'Rourkes. Here to drink expensive champagne and toast to our future while pretending we're not all drowning.
I turn away from the mirror. Cross to the window. My room overlooks the front of the estate, giving me a clear view of the circular drive, where black cars are pulling up one after another. Men in expensive suits. Women in designer dresses. Security everywhere, more than I've ever seen, watching every arrival with careful eyes.
They look like they're attending a wedding.
They should be attending a funeral.
My phone sits on the dresser, screen dark. There are no calls, no texts, nothing from the hospital, even though I've checked it seventeen times in the last hour. Reilan promised to update me immediately if anything changed with Father.
The silence is its own kind of torture.
I pick up the phone. My thumb hovers over Reilan's name. I could call. Could demand an update. Could hear my brother's voice and know that at least one person I love is still whole.
