At the same moment, Liam slams the other guard into a pillar with a bone-crunching thud. He drops the unconscious body, his chest heaving, his face a map of blood and fury.
I don’t wait for anything else. I drop the gun and lunge into Liam’s arms.
He catches me with such force, it nearly knocks the wind out of me, his arms wrapping around me like bands of heated iron. The frantic, heavy thrum of his heart pounds against my own. He buries his face in my neck, breathing me in, his body shuddering with residual adrenaline. My nerve endings feel like a live wire.
But even as he holds me, all his muscles coil tight. He pulls back just enough so we may both turn. He glares at Eamon, his hands clenching against my back. It’s a silent, predatory accusation. He wants an explanation.
Eamon shrugs, holstering his weapon, knowing smile twisting. “The wicked uncle is such a tired trope, isn’t it, Liam?”
Liam raises a bloody brow, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “How long, Eamon?”
Eamon smirks, reaching into his vest to adjust his tie. “I may have set this into motion since I learned your father was alive and had reformed connections with the Old Guard with O’Malley as his inside source. I fed them just enough intel, baiting the trap because it was the only way to get Darragh—” he observes at the broken man on the floor and leers— “to come crawling out of his hiding hole. It was never my intention for Elexia to be involved.”
I blow out a flustered breath, my head spinning. But I focus on Eamon. “I think you’re more than forgiven,” I say with a small, shaky grin, holding tighter to Liam’s shirt, careless of all the blood.
Liam stiffens. “I’ll be the judge of that,” he growls, his Irish lilt thick and heavy. “But first…”
He turns his attention to the man writhing on the floor. Darragh is bleeding out, his suit ruined, his power evaporated into the cold air. He’s a pathetic, broken thing, but the rot reeking from him is still very much alive.
Eamon nods toward the mahogany doors. “More Old Guard will be arriving soon. I’ll remain at the door and handle anyone who comes through. Finish your business, Liam.”
Eamon starts to walk toward the exit, but I break away from Liam for a second. I rush over, stand on my tiptoes, and give the mysterious “wicked uncle” a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Liam rolls his eyes, huffing his exasperation.
Eamon raises his brows, followed by a grateful nod, before he moves toward the elevator.
Out of the corner of my eye, Liam is approaching a glass display case on the far wall. The case contains artifacts from the Donovan history. He clenches his fist and punches through the reinforced glass, pulling out a massive Irish longsword. The blade is ancient, the steel polished to a mirror finish, catching the glittering lights of the city outside.
Dumbstruck, I watch as he turns back to his father, the sword held low. Liam resembles a king from an old, bloody legend.
“Lexie,” he commands deeply. “Turn around. Or you’ll throw up again.”
I glance at Darragh, then back at Liam. I think about the mother he lost. I think about the thorns he promised to plant in my skin.
I shrug and give him a sweet, sharp smile. “That’s okay. I’ll just throw up on him.”
Liam blinks at me. An adoring disbelief carves through his rage. For a moment, the tension dissipates.
He scrubs his other hand down his face. “By fuck.” Emotion, sudden and raw, floods his voice. “I love you.”
My jaw drops. My heart skips a dozen beats. Hot tears blur my vision. “Really?”
Liam drops the point of the sword to the floor and takes a step toward me, his expression softening into something so vulnerable it hurts to look at.
“I fuckin’ love you, Elexia Carter,” he says in a gravelly whisper. “My Lexie Darlin’. Will ye marry me?”
CHAPTER 24
Liam
Silence descends over the penthouse, heavy and thick with the scent of ozone, copper, and spent tea. My heart is trying to break through my ribs to reach hers.
She’s beautiful. Her hair is a wild, tangled halo of copper and gold curls, her face smudged with dust and a spray of blood that isn’t hers. She stares at me with disbelief, and then a small, breathless laugh escapes her throat.
“You’re asking me here?” she squeaks, then clutches her throat. “Now? In the middle of… this?”
