Page 61 of His Kidnapped Irish Mafia Virgin

My mother’s lips trembled, and she covered her mouth with her hand. I reached for the glass of water beside her bed and handed it to her. Our fingers brushed for the briefest moment, and neither of us pulled away immediately.

Beneath the old anger, I felt sadness for the woman sitting in front of me…and a small, reluctant understanding that we’d both been shaped by the same darkness in different ways.

The room grew quiet after my last words, and I could feel my mother watching me carefully, as if she was afraid to speak and ruin the fragile peace between us.

Slowly, I reached across the small space between us and placed my hand over hers. My mother went still. Her fingers trembled beneath mine, and when she looked down at our hands, tears filled her eyes again. I didn’t take her hand because everything was healed.

I took it because I was willing to try to move forward.

My mother turned her hand gently and held mine, as if she could hardly believe I was allowing her to touch me. The moment was small and fragile, but it carried more truth than any promise we could have made.

“I don’t know how long this will take,” I said quietly. “But I don’t want to keep carrying all of this pain by myself anymore.”

“I know,” she whispered. Her grip tightened around my hand, and I saw relief and sorrow mix together on her face.

I squeezed my mother’s hand once before gently letting go. Then I stood, walked to the door, and looked back at her one last time. When I stepped into the quiet hallway and closed the door behind me, I realized that I no longer had to carry my memories alone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Liam

My home office was quiet except for the low hum of computers. Papers rustled in my hands and maps covered the table in front of me, marked with circles, arrows, and notes from the men who’d spent days searching for Victor Hale.

Surveillance photos were scattered beside them, each one showing a different face, vehicle, or location connected to the investigation.

I stared at the evidence without really seeing it. My mind was in the small hospital room where Nora had looked at me with tired, frightened eyes and told me what Victor Hale had planned to do with her.

She’d spoken quietly, as if saying the words too loudly would make them real again, but they’d been real the moment Victor decided she could be bought and sold like an object.

The thought made my hands tighten around the edge of the table. I forced myself to loosen my grip before I tore the paper beneath my fingers.

“Liam?” Paddy’s voice came from the doorway, cautious and measured.

I didn’t look up immediately.

“The reports from the highway checkpoints are in. No confirmed sighting of Victor Hale yet.”

I nodded once. “Leave them there.”

Paddy stepped into the room and placed the folder beside the maps. He lingered for a moment, watching me carefully.

“You should get some rest,” he said.

I finally looked at him. “Rest?”

He held my gaze without answering.

I let out a slow breath and leaned back in my chair. “Do you know what he was going to do to her, Paddy?” I asked quietly.

His expression hardened. “Yes.”

“He was going to hand her over to strangers,” I said. “He was going to sell her like she was nothing more than a fucking piece of furniture!”

The words tasted bitter in my mouth. Paddy remained silent as I looked back at the photographs spread across the table. Victor Hale’s face stared back at me from one of them, cold and smug, and rage burned through my chest so suddenly that I had to look away.

For years, I’d dealt with men who lied, stole, killed, and betrayed each other for money. I understood greed. I understood power. I understood the kind of darkness that lived inside men who believed they could take whatever they wanted.

But this was different. Victor had looked at Nora, a woman who’d already survived more fear than anyone should endure, and decided she was something he could trade.