I’m used to being in the dark. Hell, I love the fact that I’m away from the drama and the death that comes with being a Delaney. But this feels different. The feeling I have in the pit of my stomach grows stronger with every step I take toward my da. Whatever’s happened is going to have major repercussions. I wasn’t called in even when the Harringtons went on a crazy killing spree. I wasn’t told what was happening.
“You needn’t worry yourself, Quinn. This doesn’t concern you,” my da told me after I saw on the news just how many people Trace Harrington had killed.
The Harrington family had gone to war with the Syndicate. What started as a grab for power ended with bodies piling up across Boston, then the East coast, and across the world. Bosses, soldiers, wives, even family members became targets. Nobody was safe.
I learned most of what happened from Caden. He gave me as much information as he could.
My Da’s extremely powerful and his connections and allies are growing with each passing day. Being a leading member of the Boston Elite Syndicate means my da has more power than what should be granted. He’s also the head of the Delaney Clann, or the Irish Mafia, depending on who you are and what respect you have for my da. The Clann is for family and close friends. The Irish Mafia is for those in the business who have respect for him and his title. My father is that Irish bastard to those disrespectful bastards that have no respect for anyone and have a death wish.
My mam is the typical mafia wife. She thrives on being married to Ronan Delaney and makes sure everyone knows she's the wife of the boss. The truth is, my mam had five children and only actually gives a shit about one of us.
Dáire.
My sister is six years older than me and the second-born child in the family, coming after Dáithí. Mam has doted on her for as long as I can remember. No one else compares to Dáire in Bridget Delaney's eyes.
That's one of the many reasons Caden and I are closer than the rest. He's only two years older than me and, growing up, we were largely left to our own devices while our parents focused their attention elsewhere.
Dáire is the definition of a mafia princess. Doted on by our parents, she gets whatever she wants. She's respected by Da's men because she's Ronan Delaney's precious daughter. Only Daithí is respected more than she is.
I've no idea why she hates me. There's a six-year age gap between us and I've never done anything to her except exist.
Dáithí, the oldest of us all, is next in line to take over from our da one day. He's as vicious as Ronan when he needs to be, but he's always had a soft spot for me. Thankfully, he doesn't ignore me the way Mam, Da, Dáire, and sometimes Conn do.
Conn came after Dáire and before Caden. He's always been more interested in earning our father's approval than anything else. Fortunately, he's rarely home. When he is, he's usually buried in meetings with Da and Dáithí, learning the business he'll never inherit.
I hear voices before I reach the door, my hand trembles slightly as I touch the handle, the voices are deep and filled with anger. I hear my da’s deep baritone voice, but can’t make out the words, just the tone, and right now? It’s filled with a rage I’ve never heard before.
Just as I’m about to turn the handle, I hear her name.
Dáire.
I stand very still, unable to comprehend the words that follow her name. Dáire’s pregnant? But not by Lorenzo Mariano, her fiancé, but to Rurik Morozov? My heart hammers in my chest. What the hell was she thinking? Does she not know what the hell is going to happen now that she’s broken the agreement with the Mariano family?
God, she’s going to be killed.
I close my eyes for half a second, take a breath, and then push the door open.
The sitting room is one of the more formal rooms in the house. Dark wood panelling covers the walls, family photographs and oil paintings hanging between built-in bookshelves. A fire crackles in the stone fireplace despite the mild weather outside.
My da looks up when I enter. He's standing near the fireplace, arms crossed over his broad chest, his grey hair neatly combed back. His jaw is set, his blue eyes hard enough to cut glass.
To his right stands Tony Geraghty, my da's right-hand man and best friend. Tony is built much like Da, broad and imposing, though age has added a little softness around his middle. His dark hair is streaked heavily with grey now, his expression unreadable as he watches me.
My brothers aren't here. Caden left me in the hallway and vanished. I also note that my mam's not here. Just my father, Tony, and now me.
I look back at Da and see how tired he looks. The lines around his eyes seem deeper than usual. I understand now why everyone is on edge. Dáire's fucked up, huge, and now my da has to fix her mess.
"Close the door," he says tightly.
I do as he says but don't move any further into the room.
"Sit down, Quinn," he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please."
The word surprises me. I move toward the cream sofa positioned opposite the fireplace and sink into the soft cushions. Keeping my head high, I look back at my da and wait.
This is the first time I can remember him saying please to me. I wait for him to speak, but he hesitates. I've never seen my da hesitate before.
"Your sister," he starts, then pauses, seemingly unable to finish his sentence.
