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“I’ve groomed you for this,” he said. “Youwill be my heir. My sons are worthless, unable to do what needs tobe done. You on the other hand.” He stepped closer to the edge ofthe pier. I always wondered why he didn’t fear me. Why he called meto these remote places unprotected. Was his ego so inflated that hedidn’t see the hatred in me? Or had I indeed turned into such agood liar he couldn’t pull apart my truths? I had no clue. Hesmirked. “Without question,” he continued. “You have followed myevery word. After this, I will announce you as heir. Everyone willbow down to you and we will regain the power of our family name.”For the first time since I met him all those years ago, since heput a gun to my forehead and asked why he should keep me alive, Isaw something other than contempt in his eyes. There was a briefsatisfaction mixed with a lot of crazy. Cillian Brennan wasinsane.
He lowered his eyes to the gun on the roundtable in front of the chair. “After this, you’ll be giving theorders. You’ll no longer have to taint your hands in blood. Afterthis, you’re free.”
Cillian didn’t know what freedom meant if hethought I wanted him at my side once I became heir. I’d kill him assoon as he announced me as legitimate. That would be the last fuckyou to him. The thought of me leading the family sent a thrillthrough me. Yes, I wanted that. Next to taking their money, takingaway Tristan’s power would be the icing on the cake.
One last kill. A faceless death. Another sinto add to my dark soul. And it was worth it.
I picked up the gun with my gloved hand andpointed it at the target. He wore joggers, a pair of cheap runningshoes, a couple of hoodies. His wrists were bound to the chair, butnot his legs. My eyes trailed his long, deft fingers, the zip tieson his pale wrists, the ink between his forefinger and thumb, andthe leather bracelet he wore.Myleather bracelet. My heartgave a jolt.
Tomás.
My gun hand shook. Just a slight movement asI considered two things—Cillian was alone. And fuck power. Tomáswas mine.
I aimed the gun at Cillian Brennan. Evenwith the gun to his face he gave me no reaction as if he had noclue that I hated him down to my marrow. For a second heartbeat, Isaw the realization on his face that I chose Tomás. His lips partedas if he believed I had any doubts and words would stop my playalready in motion. But words would do nothing to change what neededto be done.Hehad taught me that. I pulled the trigger.
Cillian’s head snapped back, and he fellinto the water behind him. The silence that followed grounded me.I’d killed Cillian Brennan, the don of one of the most dangerousfamilies on the east coast,myfamily. And I felt nothing.In the beginning, death had always left a sour taste in my mouth.After I’d acclimated, I felt nothing. I waited a few seconds beforestripping the gun to its core and throwing it into the water.
Cillian had succeeded in molding me to hislikeness. That thought made whatever toxic shit lived inside of meseethe.
I untied Tomás and pulled off the hood,relieved only when I confirmed that he was still breathing. Theneed to kill Cillian again settled somewhere behind my sternum as Itook in the scratches on Tomás’s face. I had questions. Why hadCillian taken him? Why want him dead? Tomás in danger turned meinto knots. I couldn’t stand it.
I pulled on my balaclava, released Tomásfrom his binds, and slapped him awake. I couldn’t carry him out tosafety, and I couldn’t reveal that it was me who saved him. Icouldn’t put him at risk with the knowledge that it’d been me whokilled Cillian. Fortunately, he was still disoriented and couldn’tget a good look at me. Groggy, he followed my orders exactly. I hadboosted a car a state over, changed plates, wore nondescriptclothes, no one would be able to trace me back to this place.
Tomás said nothing as I drove into the city,parked the car in a residential street, and took off. He’d find hisway. I couldn’t hold on to him. I couldn’t keep him. Walking awaywas the only thing I knew how to do. The only thing I could do tokeep him safe.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Kieran
The Brennans lived in Midtown. A penthouseon the seventieth floor near Central Park. I’d been instructed topark in the lower-level garage, given the code to the gate and theprivate elevator. I’d never been invited to their residence.
I was greeted by a tall, lanky, man withsalt and pepper hair, kind brown eyes, and a crooked smile.
“Mr. Brennan, good of you to join us. May Itake your coat?”
The name made me stiffen. I handed him mycoat. “My name is Romano, not Brennan,” I said.
He nodded. “I’m Ros, in case you needanything. Please, follow me.”
I’d never met the Brennan family. Wonderedif they brought their weapons to the dinner table considering Ibrought mine. It’d been three days since the incident at the dock.Since I killed Cillian Brennan. And all Graham and Henry reportedwas silence. His death hadn’t been made public.
The place looked like royalty and smelled ofspices. I’d forgotten Thanksgiving landed on my birthday this year.Not that it mattered. I’d never celebrated either.
I followed Ros through a long corridor thatopened into a living area with floor to ceiling windows, crystallight fixtures, furniture that looked neither comfortable, norcheap, deeper into the house to the dining area which was deckedout for the holiday.
Everyone lifted their eyes to me, and Isuddenly felt as if I’d been shoved under a microscope. Imogen satnear Declan. Maddox sat to Tristan’s right. I hadn’t seen my fatherin years. The memory of him had been tainted with my imagination ofevil. The man sitting before me did not look like evil incarnate.He looked like me. We shared our deep black hair and eyes that werea shade lighter than everyone else’s. Whenever I looked in themirror, he was all I saw. There was no denying that we wereblood.
“Kieran, come, please,” Tristan said.
The first words he’d ever said to me in twoyears.
I searched the room for Cillian. It wasinstinct really. I almost forgot he was dead. “Where’sGrandfather?” I asked.
A dark rage passed through Tristan’s eyesand escaped just as fast. “He won’t be joining us. Please, have aseat.”
He gestured to a seat to his right, next toMaddox. I unbuttoned my suit jacket and sat down, seeing no otheroption.
“God, Tris, I’m so mad at you,” Imogen said.She got to her feet and walked to me. I wasn’t sure what to do. Ithought it imprudent to just ignore her, though I really wanted to.She had that innocent naivete I hated in people who ignored thattheir family killed other families. She took my hand.
