Page 100 of Honorable Sins

O’Grady’s mouth opens.

Nothing comes out.

"I’m not about to let the mob see that Kenneth sowed his rotten seeds of insurrection among men my soldiers call brother."

"They’re not your soldiers." He latches onto the words like they can save him. "They’re Brogan’s soldiers."

I smile.

His gaze drops to my mouth and his face loses what little color remains.

"I’ll let you in on a secret. The rest of the mob finds out on Labor Day." I draw my skean from its sheath and flip it once into the air. The blade shines in the moonlight before I catch it by the handle. "Brogan is stepping down, and I’m taking over the Shaughnessy Mob."

O’Grady stares at me.

"We’ll all celebrate." I slide the knife back into its sheath. "Well, all of us except you, Kenneth and that idiot at the tribunal who claimed Shaughnessy blood should run the Shaughnessy mob."

His lips tremble.

"You know what that means?" I wait for him to answer.

But he just shakes his head.

"That implies my son, Brogan's grandson, isn't Shaughnessy blood. Feckin' idgit."

"I never said that," he lies, his body shaking hard enough to rattle the headboard. "You can’t kill me without Brogan’s sanction. You’re not Boss yet."

"I can do whatever the fuck I want." I grab two more pellets of rat food from my pocket. "And I will always do whatever I need to do to protect my family and its legacy."

His eyes lock on the knife in my hand.

I'd like to stab him through the heart with it like Wraith did to Kenneth. It's poetic and I'm an Irishman. Sociopath, or not.

"You and your shite conspirators threatened my son’s future. I won’t allow a threat to Kara or any of my chislers to stand."

"I didn’t threaten your kids," he lies again.

"You conspired to remove me."

He shakes his head violently. "That’s not the same thing."

"It is." If I fall, there's no one to stand between my son and any man who wants to usurp him before he's old enough and strong enough to protect himself.

He's stronger and smarter than other kids his age, but he's still a chisler. He still needs protecting.

O'Grady starts crying.

Not loudly. His face crumples and tears spill over as he looks at me like there is still a version of this night where he talks his way out of the grave he dug.

"If you had been smart enough to understand that," I say, "you never would have joined Kenneth’s attempt to push me out."

"Mick, please."

I am finished with the conversation.

I hold out my hand. "Eat your food, little rat."

He stares at the knife in my other hand for long seconds, but then takes the pellets and chews them, gagging as he forces himself to swallow.