Rage

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Killian

I left Maeve in her bed, naked, freshly washed and snoring lightly.

If it was up to me, I’d keep her painted in blood. She is a fucking sight covered in the blood of the man who hurt her. It’s dark justice.

But instead, I had a body to clean up.

It doesn’t take me long. Years of cleaning up my kills, some messier than Maeve’s, have made me an expert, and Ferguson is too trusting to doubt my lies.

After cleaning the blood with the chemicals I keep on hand, I change the sheets and clean Michael up. Then, I dress him, asking Simon to lie about the cause of death.

It takes considerably more control not to slice Michael into pieces for even thinking Maeve was his to touch.

“He’s going to know,” Simon whispers, pushing black glasses up his nose. Greying blond locks dust over his skull. “If he sees the body, he’ll know this isn’t a heart attack.”

“Well, it’s a good thing he won’t see the body.” I smirk, my eyes narrowing on the guy. He has only been in the clan a few years, and he’ll be on the way out soon enough.

This life is hard. Most can’t handle it.

After the room is staged, documents signed, I wait in Ferguson’s office.

I sure as hell don’t want to be here. I want to be in Maeve’s bed, feeling her cunt around my cock again.

I meant what I said. She’s mine and I’m hers. I have been since the moment her green eyes caught me and her knife cut into my throat as children.

Ferguson enters, throwing his jacket on to a rack by the door.

His glare disappears the minute he sees me.

“Ah, Killian. I was wondering when you’d be back. All good in Arizona?”

“It’s taken care of.”

He nods, pouring two large glasses of whiskey. He hands me one. “Good man. I knew you’d be an asset the moment I saw you in that alley.”

The night he saw me kill someone. Normal people would think I was a murderer, Ferguson just saw a promising pupil.

Sipping from the glass, I sit on his desk casually. “We have another situation.”

“Oh?”

“Michael’s dead.”

Ferguson holds the whiskey on his tongue before swallowing bitterly. “One of the families?”

“Oddly, no. Heart attack. Wasn’t exactly a healthy man.” I tsk, even as everything in me wants to bring the asshole back just so Maeve can kill him again.

Seeing her so savage does something to me. I feel akinship to what lives in her, two black halves of one shriveled black heart. Maeve is made for me.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Ferguson nods. “Fuck.”

He sits behind his desk heavily. “That screws everything up.”

“Such as?” I finish the booze, hating how it gets rid of Maeve’s taste.

Like fresh berries and soft whipped cream. Fuck. I’m such a goner.

“Michael was supposed to take over.” He throws his beefy hand around. “I was grooming him to take over once Maeve turned twenty-one.” Which is today.

The day that should have been met with love and celebration, was going to be about giving her to a monster. I clear the emotions from my face as I stand to pour another glass. I figured as much, but to hear it from my mentor, a man I killed for…

“You gave Maeve to him.”

Fury, the kind that could scare the Devil himself, threatened to overtake me.

If not for Maeve’s safety, I would have blown the fucking Captain’s head off, mentor or not. All that matters is Maeve.

“Of course, I did.” He scoffs. “Only a man can lead a clan. Maeve being the eldest was the best way to keep the O’Brien blood while getting a man to lead.”

“What about Briar?”

He slaps the desk. “That fucking ungrateful boy. He had the nerve to tell me I was ruining this family. Left last night for God knows where. He couldn’t do what it takes to lead.”

Sipping the freshly poured glass, I let the liquor burn my throat.

“So who will take the reins now?” I can’t offer Maeve. She’s the best choice for this, but he won’t listen to that.

Ferguson hates women, thinks them weak. I’ve seen the marks on his pseudo-wife. Unfortunately, he probably raised the scariest woman to ever walk this Earth.

“No fucking clue.” He leans his head back, dark hair grey at the temples.

I chew on my cheek, finishing the whiskey. A plan slowly forms in my mind. “Give me a list. I’ll work through the names, see who’s suitable.” And kill every single person who thinks they can have something that belongs to me.

I couldn’t protect Maeve before, but I can now.

“Ah, good man. I’ll have it for you in the morning.” He looks over my shoulder down the darkened hall. “Where is my oldest daughter, anyway?”

“Her room.” I hold his curious look, not giving anything away. Ferguson is a brute, but he isn’t stupid. He’s noticed me noticing her. He’s smart enough not to mention it. “Once I have the names, I’ll handle it right away.”

He doesn’t need to know that this clan will never go to an outsider. Only Maeve will sit on its throne. I’ll make sure of it.