CHAPTER 44
Liam
They don't seeme at first. Not right away.
The driver parks quietly, keeping the car just far enough to watch without being noticed. The airport's private terminal hums with low security chatter and soft engines, discreet and efficiently built for people like us who need doors opened without question.
I glance at the other two vehicles behind me; I want to make sure they leave New York without any mishap.
There they are. Gianna and Finn.
She is smiling, radiant even in something as ordinary as travel clothes. She's starting to grow on me. I didn't expect her to pull the plan off. I thought she was going to chicken out and leave Finn to die, but she stepped up, and for that, I respect her and recognize her as a member of our family.
Finn is relaxed, rolling their suitcase with one hand and holding hers with the other.
Vito has already come and gone. I can tell. Finn is still breathing. I let out a breath and lean into my elbow, draped over the edge of the open window. The sunlight filters through athin cloud cover, softening everything in sight. It feels like a rare moment held in time, a pause before the next begins.
I raise my hand, casually, almost lazily, and give a wave. Finn stops. His brow furrows in surprise, and his mouth parts slightly before he turns to Gianna. She follows his gaze, and her face is pulled into that same confused mix of curiosity and caution.
I smirk.
They aren't expecting me. Good. Sometimes it's best that way.
I didn't come to interfere. Not today. I just wanted to see them off. Send a silent wish into the air that they find some type of peace before it all comes crashing back down. Before the world reminds them who they are and who they're tied to. They've become too important for anything to go wrong now that they're the glue holding the Irish and Italians together.
I don't wait for a response. Without another thought, I reach for the window control and let the glass slide up slowly, muting the world outside. Their figures blur into a glossy tint as the car comes back into motion.
The driver turns the wheel towards the exit, and I check my watch. 3:30 P.M. "Make sure they make it on that flight safely," I say to the guard beside the driver.
"Yes, boss," he says and relays my message to the rest of the team.
I barely pay attention to the road as we drive to the estate; my thoughts are elsewhere, tangled in everything unspoken and unresolved.
The truth is, I don't expect it to be this quiet.
I've been hiding in the shadows for years, working in silence, orchestrating my return that would send shockwaves through every Irish crew still loyal to the old name. I bled for this. I starved for this. I buried pieces of myself to make room for the leader I have to become.
And now... peace? No. That isn't what this is. Not really. This is the eye of the storm.
Peace never comes easily in our world. If it does, you're either dreaming or about to be blindsided. I'm not naive enough to believe it'll stay like this for long. Declan's loyalists may have scattered, but fire always finds its way back to the ember.
I knew what I signed up for when I decided to push Declan out, and I'm not backing down from this challenge, not now, not ever.
As we approach the gate of the estate, they open before me like a kingdom finally recognizing its rightful heir. The guards nod with respect, stepping back, their eyes tracking me with acknowledgment.
"Sir," the guard beside the driver speaks up. I don't recall his name. I don't recall many of their names. I meet his eyes through the dashboard mirror. "The plane is already in the air. They made it safely."
I nod as the driver parks the car, the low growl of the engine fading into silence. I reach for the file beside me as I step out, and a few men greet me with firm nods and murmurs. "Boss." I return them with small gestures, half nods, eye contact. I don't need fanfare, just loyalty. I glance at my watch. They should all be here by now.
I walk with purpose, not haste. My shoes echo on the floor. All of this is mine and I'm going to protect it, build something better than Declan ever had vision for. I step into the elevator, the polished doors closing with a soft hiss behind me. The numbers climb slowly, and I watch my reflection, eyes darker than before, jaw sharper, but still standing.
I made changes to many things around here, starting with the horrible music that plays in this elevator. The classical music that came from it before was horrible; now it's quiet, and nothing is more important than quiet.
The elevator door slides open, and a familiar face greets me. "Ailish," I call, stepping out of the elevator. She hands me a coffee, and I take a sip. Black, just as I like it.
"They're all waiting," she says, moving ahead of me. Ailish has always been loyal, even when things looked bleak, she remained loyal.
I come to a halt, tilting my head to the side. "You're not going to ask?" I ask, taking another sip of my coffee. She stops and turns to me with one brow raised, pretending like she doesn't know what I'm talking about.
