Page 71
“In these weeks you’ve been together, Liam’s been stronger than I’ve ever seen him. Being with you makes him the man he needs to be to bear the weight of this world on his shoulders.”
My mouth falls open. She says it so confidently, but she’s wrong.
“You claim that this engagement of yours isn’t real. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be.”
My breath catches in my throat. I try to lift my tea to my lips, but my hands are shaking too badly, and I have to set it back down. Orla’s hands are steady as she taps a fingernail against her mug.
“Is it that you don’t believe in Liam, or that you don’t believe in yourself?”
“I’ve never had any doubt in Liam,” I say immediately. Even when I didn’t want to believe what he told me, when I couldn’t stomach the depth of his darkness, a part of me still knew never to doubt his abilities, whatever they are.
“And he’s never had any doubts in you. None of us have.”
“But you’ve kept me away from that side of your lives.”
“Not because we doubted your ability to handle it.” Orla gives me an indulgent smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “But because you are precious to us, and it’s been our way of protecting you.”
“If I need protecting from your world, then I clearly don’t belong in it.”
“I didn’t say you need protecting. To us, it’s that you deserve it.”
“I— What?” I grip my mug tighter, struggling to follow along. “I don’t understand the difference.”
“I know, love. Despite how kindhearted and generous you are toward others, you’ve always had difficulty believing you deserve anything yourself. I saw hints of it before your mam left. And afterward, the worst damage she caused was to make you feel unworthy.”
My nose tingles with the threat of tears, and the sudden grief makes my body go limp. My hands slip to the table, unable to grip my mug anymore. Orla doesn’t hesitate. She covers my lifeless hands with her strong ones, squeezing hard.
“You are worthy of so much, Brioni. Of being loved and protected. Of being happy and wholehearted. And I know my son is capable of providing you with all those things.”
The unshed tears pool in my eyes, and my view of the modest kitchen swims. Only Orla’s firm grip keeps me grounded.
“Whether or not you think you’ll be a good mafia wife, we all know you’ll be an incredible wife for Liam.”
The first tear beads on my lower lashes, then rolls down my cheek.
“That’s all I want,” I whisper, unable to say the rest out loud.
It’s all I’ve ever wanted, and now it’s something I’m determined to be.
Chapter 34
Liam
After I slam my fist into Rabbit’s face, I stand back to watch his allergic reaction recede. His eye socket was disappointingly squishy where I punched him. There was no connection of knuckle on bone, emphasizing how pointless this whole exercise was. How fucking stupid.
Growling to myself, I take my time cutting the ties binding him to the chair. The kid says nothing. He doesn’t even reach up to touch his deflating cheek where I’d jabbed him with the syringe. I stalk out of the room.
Brioni’s gone. But her purse is still on the table, her coat still in my locker. She must be upstairs in the pub, drowning her sorrows in liquor again.
Fuck everything. Fuck Seven, fuck this kid, fuck this whole goddamn life. I’m sick of it. I never asked for this role, I just happen to be good at it. Even if it wasn’t a natural talent, it’s something I’ve trained so hard for that I can’t tell the difference between talent and earned skill anymore.
I call Peter. When I tell him to come get the kid from the basement and patch him up back at the house, the man sounds disgustingly worried. I hang up, then go back into the interrogation room. I’m about to scoop the blackout hood from the floor, then point to it instead.
“Put that back on,” I tell Rabbit.
“Yes, sir,” he says, the perfect soldier.
I slam the heavy door behind me.
