CHAPTER TWELVE
CIAN
THE TABLE IS crowded, a rare occurrence when we’re all in the same room—Jack, my cousin, and Liam’s son; my uncles Finn and Darragh; and my father. The air is thick with tension, the kind that wraps around you and refuses to let go, the kind only men who live in shadows understand. The heavy wood table between us feels more like a battlefield than a gathering place, and every glance exchanged carries the weight of unspoken histories.
Liam stands at the head of the table, commanding the space with his presence alone. His sharp gaze sweeps over us like a general appraising his troops, his words measured and cold, each one landing with precision.
“We’ve got the locations,” Liam begins, his voice as steady as a sniper’s aim. “Our inside man confirmed their strongholds. We hit them all in one night, take them out before they even know what’s happening. Five locations.”
The words settle over the room like a shroud. My father leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression unreadable, but his eyes burn with the quiet ferocity of a man who’s been through too many battles to count. Finn shifts uneasily. Killing’s never sat well with him, no matter how necessary it becomes. Across from him, Darragh is his mirror opposite—relaxed, almost amused. His smirk is a weapon in itself, and his fingers drum out a casual rhythm on the table as though this were a game he’d already won. An unlit cigarette sits behind his left ear; no doubt it will be lit the minute we vacate the room.
Jack sits to my left, his posture as calm and calculated as his father’s. His eyes flick around the room, measuring everyone. He’s Liam’s son through and through—destined to lead us one day, whether he wants the mantle or not.
“What’s the order?” Finn asks, his voice smooth, almost bored, but the tension in his jaw betrays him. He knows what’s coming, and so do I.
Liam’s response is swift and clinical. He pulls a map from his jacket, spreading it out on the table with a flick of his wrist. The creases catch the dim overhead light, throwing shadows across the bold red marks that signal our targets.
“We split into teams,” he says, tapping the first four locations with the tip of a pen. “These are smaller, less guarded. Quick work. The fifth…” His finger lands on the final mark, pressing it down as though he could crush it beneath his touch. “Richard’s house. It’s fortified, heavily guarded. But by the time we hit it, they’ll already be scrambling from the chaos of the first four strikes. That’s when we move.”
The room falls silent. Even the rhythm of Darragh’s fingers halts.
“And the inside man?” My voice cuts through the quiet, the question sharp and deliberate. I lean forward, meeting Liam’s gaze head-on.
For a moment, the only sound is the faint hum of the overhead light. Liam’s eyes lock onto mine, colder than I’ve ever seen them, and when he speaks, it’s with a calm that sends a chill through the room.
“He wants to walk away.”
Darragh snorts, a low, derisive laugh that grates against the tension already coiled tight in my chest. “And you’ll let him?” His tone is mocking, but there’s an edge of curiosity there, a challenge veiled in his amusement.
Liam shakes his head slowly; his one word is calculated and cruel. “No.”
The word hangs in the air like a death sentence. For a heartbeat, no one speaks. No one moves. This is who Liam is—controlled, relentless, and utterly without mercy. It’s why he leads us. It’s why we follow him.
“I’ll take Richard’s house,” Liam continues, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “I’ve got ex-military coming in for the job. It’ll be clean, precise. No room for mistakes.”
The rest of us nod, but the weight of what’s coming settles over me like a second skin. The plan is set, the lines drawn. And like all games in our world, it ends in blood.
The meeting wraps up quickly after that. Assignments are handed out with precision, each of us knowing exactly what’s at stake. One by one, we leave.
Outside, the flick of a lighter pierces the silence as Darragh leans against the wall, igniting his cigarette with practiced ease. A thin wisp of smoke curls into the twilight, its scent sharp and acrid. Finn lingers beside him, his posture stiff, shoulders tense.
I don’t linger. The weight in my chest demands motion, so I shove my hands deep into my pockets and make my way to my car, each step heavy with the mental replay of the plan. Every detail races through my mind, every contingency scrutinized. It has to work. It must work. We don’t have another choice.
When I arrive home, the first sign that something’s off hits me like a slap to the face. The garage door hums open, revealing the glaring absence of one of my cars. An empty space that shouldn’t be empty where my new BMW had been parked.
A sinking feeling coils in my gut, ice-cold and nauseating. Luna.
I rush inside, pulling my phone from my pocket with shaking hands. My fingers swipe the screen with practiced precision, opening the tracker app linked to my vehicles. My breath catches when the screen lights up with a location.
Richard’s house.
My stomach drops, a hollow, lurching sensation that leaves me gripping the edge of the counter for support. A storm brews in my chest, rage and fear battling for dominance.
I hit the call button for Liam. One ring. Two. It goes to voicemail.
“Dammit!” I hiss, pacing the length of the kitchen as I try again. Same result.
I race upstairs, but I know she isn’t here. The empty room confirms my suspicions.
Next, I call my father. Surely, he’ll answer. He always does.
But the line rings out, and the silence on the other end only fans the flames of my growing panic.
“For fuck’s sake!” My voice echoes off the walls, sharp and desperate.
I scroll through my contacts, landing on the last name I want to see. Jack. But at this moment, I don’t have the luxury of choice. I grit my teeth and press the call button, my jaw tightening as the phone rings.
When he picks up, his voice is as infuriatingly casual as ever.
“What?” Jack snaps, his tone clipped and already laced with impatience.
“Luna,” I bite out, pacing the room like a caged animal. “She’s at Richard’s. One of my cars is gone.”
There’s a pause, long enough to hear my own pulse pounding in my ears. Then Jack growls, low and sharp, “She’s handing herself over.”
The words hit like a fist to the gut. My body moves on instinct, grabbing my keys off the counter. “We need to get her. Now.”
“Okay,” Jack mutters. In the background, I hear the rustle of movement—he’s already preparing. “I’ll come with you and bring backup.”
I don’t waste time arguing. Jack’s irritating, but he’s not wrong.
When I pull up to his place which is close to my house, he’s waiting outside, leaning against a black duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His expression is set in stone, eyes narrowed, and jaw clenched. He tosses the bag into the backseat and climbs in beside me, his movements sharp, controlled.
“She’s a liability,” Jack says as I hit the gas. “You should’ve seen this coming.”
“I knew something was off,” I admit, gripping the wheel until my knuckles ache. “But this… this is something else.” Yet, I think of how my father and Jack had mentioned handing her over in front of her; I wonder if that was the deciding factor for her. She’s too kind and doesn’t seem to see the value in herself. But, I see it.
Jack doesn’t respond immediately; instead, pulls out his phone and punches in a number. When no one picks up, he curses under his breath and leaves a voice message for my father.
“We’re going to Richard’s now. Luna is inside; we will pull her out before you make the hit, but wait for us to leave.”
The way he says we, sends a chill down my spine. Jack’s voice is cold, calculated—a far cry from the usual sharp-edged arrogance he wears like armor. He’s serious now, and that makes him dangerous. For the first time tonight, I wonder if bringing him along was a mistake. We don’t get along even during the best of times, but I had no one else to call.
Backup cars follow in our wake, their headlights cutting through the darkness like watchful eyes. It should bring some comfort, but it doesn’t. The weight in my chest only grows heavier as we close the distance to Richard’s estate.
I can’t shake the image of Luna walking into the lion’s den, her head held high, defiance burning in her eyes. Whatever her reasons, whatever plan she’s concocted in her reckless, brilliant mind, doesn’t matter anymore.
She’s mine to protect. Always will be.
And I’ll be damned if I let her slip away tonight.
As we near Richard’s estate, I slowly pull over; I don’t want them to know we are coming.
“We get her out, and we don’t linger. No heroics, leave the cleanup to my dad,” Jack says.
I glance at him, his face illuminated by the pale glow of the dashboard lights. There’s no humor there, no trace of his usual bravado.
“Whatever it takes,” I say, my voice a quiet promise.
Jack nods, his jaw tightening. “Just try and stick to the plan.” We get out, and Jack removes several guns from his duffel bag, loading his body with them before he hands me two. Once we are all set, we go on foot; all the other cars have pulled in behind us, and the men slowly get out, everyone checking their weapons. They don’t look to me for orders but to Jack.
“ Cian and I will go in first. I need you all to be ready if you hear gunfire or if we don’t return.”
They all nod in unison.
We move slowly down the road, keeping to the edge of the road.
The estate looms ahead, its silhouette stark against the night sky.
It’s time.
The weight of the moment settles over me as we move toward the estate, shadows blending with the darkness. Somewhere inside, Luna is waiting—whether she knows it or not.
And I’ll stop at nothing to bring her back.