I glance down at my father, who is barely holding onto consciousness through his agony. I look at the bodies of the guards, at the broken glass, and then back at the woman who is the only thing in this room—the only thing in this world—that makes sense.
“Fuck me,” I mutter, the swearing reflexively thick. I comb one hand through my blood-soaked hair.
“What? That, too?!” she giggles, practically sparkling. Aye, only she could manage to giggle at a time like this. She could be a mirage. So light on her feet, I’ve a mind she will float away any moment.
“Bloody Christ,” I drop my hand to the side. “Just forget that last part, will ye, Lexie Luv?”
She blinks, her brow furrowing. “Which part?”
“The marry part,” I clarify. “Not the ‘I love you’. That stands. That’ll always stand, so it will. But you deserve a better proposal than a bloody room full of blood, corpses, and tea. When I ask for real…I’ll be kneeling. And more. I’ll give ye the world, Lexie, not just a massacre.”
A soft, genuine smile touches her lips, though unshed tears linger behind her eyes. Closing the bit of space between us, she reaches up, brushing her fingers along the gash on my temple with a tenderness that severs my heartstrings.
“Okay,” she nods, steadying. “But it stands for me too. I love you, Liam.”
The words are a soothing balm on a week’s worth of fire.
But the fire isn’t out yet. Not quite.
I don’t waste any more time. With the heavy steel of the sword in one hand, I reach for the tactical dagger at my hip. The promise I made to her grandmother—the promise I made to the memory of my mother—is screaming a war chant in my ears.
“Lexie.” My voice turns into a cold, flat blade, reiterating, I have a debt to pay. It’s your choice. But if ye watch, I’m thinkin’ you’ll never think of me the same way again.”
She doesn’t move. Unblinking. Unwavering.
I don’t wait for her permission. I move with a surgical, cold-blooded efficiency. I take the dagger, cut open his trousers, and I fulfill the first part of the vow. The scream that rips from my father’s throat is a high, thin sound, like a dying animal, the last trump to resound in the cathedral of my father’s failed empire.
Now, for the long sword.
The dismemberment is methodical. It’s not just revenge; it’s an exorcism. Piece by piece, I dismantle the legacy of Darragh Donovan.
The sound of Lexie heaving behind me is the only thing that breaks my focus.
I drop the sword, the steel singing as it hits the floor. I turn and catch her just as she retches—right on the ruined corpse of the man who tried to claim her. I move instinctively, my hand reaching out to catch her hair, pulling the curls back from her face as she vomits.
It’s a grotesque parody of the first night in the bathroom, but my hand is steady.
“I’ve got ye, Darlin’,” I whisper against the top of her head. “I’ve got ye.”
Across the room, I notice Eamon. He hasn’t moved. He’s casually leaning against the wall opposite the elevator, one hand in his pockets, his silenced pistol in the other, held loosely at his side.
The elevatordings.The doors slide open to reveal another trio of Old Guard reinforcements.
Without even pushing off the wall, Eamon raises his gun.Puff. Puff. Puff.Three shots, three bodies falling back into the elevator. He doesn’t even break his stride as he checks his watch, tilts his head to the security camera, and then resumes his nonchalant whistling.
I chuff a dark laugh at the absurdity, knowing I have him to thank for all this, the good and the bad. I help Lexie stand, guiding her to one of the few intact chairs at the dining table. I pour her the last of the tea from the silver pot—it’s lukewarm now, but she takes the cup with shaky hands and drinks it down as if it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.
“Liam!”
A new voice cuts through the chaos—one of authority and age.
Claire Ryan steps out from the opposite hallway, her expression a mask of professional steel. Behind her stand ahandful of tactical men in civilian clothes, the “contacts” she’d promised.
Eamon tenses.
“Easy, Eamon,” I say with a dry rasp before he may raise his gun. “It’s fine. She’s an…acquaintance.”
“Leave them,” she directs the men, indicating to us. “Spread out. Search the lower floors. I want every staff member, every security guard detained for questioning.”
