She didn’t go into that vault as my enemy but she sure as fuck left as one. Sure, she’s just a sister trying to save her brother from a death sentence, but she made the decision to come for us.
That’s on her.
Out of all the names stored in that vault, she picked ours. The Blakes have their thieving fingers on our secrets and that threat is realregardless of her reasons.
But her story complicates things. I wanted her to be simple, a thief, a target, a problem to end. Instead, she's a woman fighting for family, just like me.
I think about what I'd do if it were Reign in Connor's position. If the Tribunal had footage of my brother and threatened to destroy him.
Anything. I'd do fucking anything to protect him.
Just like she did.
I pull up the security footage again and study her pretty face. I remember those blue eyes staring up at me with pure defiance when I had her pinned to the ground. I zoom in, zeroing in on things I didn't have time to notice in the moment, like the glimpse of fear in her gaze, the tension in her jaw that she probably thought I’d never notice.
Stubborn as hell, that one.
Even though she was terrified, the woman didn't let it stop her.
“Get your shit together,” I grumble, dragging a hand through my hair.
I’d already admitted to myself that she was attractive when we were in the elevator and when I sank a shot on the plane when I should have been sleeping instead of replaying our encounter.
But knowing what drove her into enemy territory, knowing she was fighting for someone she loved with everything she had…
Well, that’s enough to earn my respect.
I close the laptop and stretch, climbing off the bed before walking to the window and pressing my forehead to the cold glass, watching the city lights twinkle as far as I can see.
The Blakes could burn our empire to the fuckingground. Teirney’s a target who I’ll have to control. And this buzz of anticipation pumping through my veins is simply the thrill of the chase. It doesn't mean shit.
I let out a deep sigh and scrub a hand down the front of my face, wincing as my palm works over my scratches. She headbutted me hard enough to see stars and clawed my face like a feral cat.
That deserves payback… punishment.
Every time I touch the marks, my blood burns, and I remember the wild pulse hammering against her throat. The way she said “my brother dies” like she expected me to accept that as a justifiable reason for screwing with mine.
I cross to the dresser, pour another straight whiskey, and move to the sitting room where I collapse onto the couch. The Blake woman has taken up too much space in my brain.
It’s time to think like a hunter.
If her father has plans to sell our intel to boost his position, the fucker will die a slow, painful death.
My read on Declan is that he's a desperate man running out of moves. The Tribunal has his son by the throat, and now he's stumbled into a windfall he didn't plan for. And he'll use it. The question is how.
I take a long gulp of my drink. Okay, option one. I go to Belfast, find Tierney, and confront her directly. But the problem is, she'll see me coming, and it‘ll risk a war with the Irish families.
I tap my foot on the floor, thinking it through. I could go with option two and wait for Declan to make his move, then react. But that’s too damn dangerous. By the time he plays his hand, we’d be fucked six ways from Sunday.
Then there’s option three. Make her kneel at my boots. I smile at that idea.
Declan wants power. Protection. A way to save his son and elevate his family above the gutter he's been stuck in for decades. He's been begging for a seat at bigger tables for years.
What if I give him a chair?
An idea starts to form in my foggy brain. What if I could offer an alliance or partnership? The kind of arrangement that brings the Blakes into our orbit, close enough to control, close enough to dismantle from the inside? It’d get me access to their secrets.
And Tierney would be right there at the center of it.
