Chapter 21 Ronan
Chapter Twenty-One
RONAN
Fuck.
I’m sure the whole damn house can feel my rage.
I press my palms flat on the desk and lean forward, breathing hard.
My knuckles are still red from punching Stephen, and I know they’ll be bruised by morning.
I want to feel good about what I did. I want that hit to have satisfied something in me. But instead, all it’s done is make me feel like a fucking idiot.
Ciara’s face flashes through my mind, and I can’t stop picturing the hurt in her eyes, as well as the fury as I threw Stephen out of the house like a disgraced dog. She has every right to be furious with me, but not because I don’t trust her.
Hell, my anger isn’t even because I don’t trust Stephen.
It’s me I don’t trust.
Just the thought of someone so much as looking at Ciara the wrong way lights a fire in my chest that I can’t seem to control. But that doesn’t excuse what I did.
I’m meant to be setting an example for my brothers and my men, and so far, I’m not doing a very good job. I mean, just a few hours ago, I put my hands on Kieran because he dared to question me, and now I clocked Stephen just for sharing the couch with Ciara?
What the hell is wrong with me?
What if I snap at her next?
The thought sends a cold shiver down my spine.
I sink into the leather chair behind my desk and drop my head back, staring up at the ceiling, thinking of Ciara. The way she looked at me… Fuck, it was like she didn’t recognize who I was, and that hurts a hell of a lot more than my bruised knuckles.
I need to get a grip on myself, especially when it comes to Stephen.
There’s a reason I chose him to be Ciara’s personal bodyguard, and it’s not just because he’s had the most military training.
It’s because I’ve known the guy for years, and I trust him more than anyone outside my brothers, which says a lot.
But it seems those facts lose all their weight the second I see him with my wife.
I run a hand over my face as I exhale slowly. I feel like I’m being pulled in a thousand directions, and this war with Declan is only escalating.
Someone is leaking information from inside my circle, and the empire my father has spent years building is being chipped away piece by piece.
I’m barely holding on, and it’s in moments like this where I truly miss my father’s presence. Though he likely would have scolded me over my mistakes rather than comforted me with words of wisdom, just having someone who has truly stood in my shoes would make me feel less… alone.
But I don’t need to ask him what to do. I know what I need to do.
I need to get a fucking grip on myself before I drive away the one person who actually gives a shit about who I am as a person rather than just my name or my status.
Not wanting to head upstairs and climb into a cold and empty bed, because I have no illusions about Ciara sharing a bed with me tonight, I fire up my computer and continue doing damage control.
I check my inbox and find that Connell has sent me the security footage from the warehouse cameras down by the docks, as well as some stills.
The footage is grainy, and with all the men dressed in black, it’s hard to identify specific faces.
Part of me wonders whether the mole would have shown up among Declan’s entourage, but until the casualties are confirmed, it’s just another dead end.
I pull out my phone and send a message to my brothers, hoping that they have some answers.
Have we got a final headcount on casualties?
Cormac
Sean confirmed that we lost four and Declan lost twelve.
Kieran
Who did we lose?
Cormac
Kyle, Frank, Desmond, and Zeke.
Relief washes through me.
All four of those guys came with us to ambush Declan, which makes it highly unlikely they’re the mole. But I’ll still have Brennan look into them just in case.
At this stage, I can’t be too careful.
Kieran
FUCK. I liked Zeke.
Brennan
Petition to put that on his headstone?
Me
Have some compassion, if it weren’t for these men, we’d likely be burying your sorry ass, Brennan.
Kieran
Petition to be in charge of Brennan’s headstone.
Brennan
Hell fucking no.
Kieran
You’re dead, you don’t have a choice.
Brennan
I’m not dead yet, you asshole.
Cormac
Petition to have these two removed from the group?
Kieran
Petition to send Cormac back to LA.
Cormac
Seriously?
Me
The next person to say "petition" is out of the family, period.
Cormac, make sure the families are compensated. These men gave their lives, and I want their wives and children taken care of.
Cormac
Already done.
Me
Does anyone have anything else useful to report?
My phone instantly starts ringing in my hand, and I groan as Kieran’s name flashes on the screen.
“What?” My tone is sharper than I mean it to be, and a low whistle comes through the line.
“Well, someone’s in a mood.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “What do you want?”
“Nice to talk to you too, brother.” He chuckles. “Relax, I’ve got news.”
I sit forward, my adrenaline spiking.
After intercepting Declan at the wharf and the subsequent debrief at Kieran’s, my brothers and I scattered as we started the hunt for the insider mole, and they’ve been dangerously quiet for the past few hours.
My brother’s voice turns serious. “I thought it would be better to tell you privately.”
“What kind of news is it?”
“The kind you might actually want to hear. One of my informants just confirmed a connection between Declan Walsh and the guy who snatched Mila.”
My chest tightens. “You’re sure?”
“Positive. The guy we caught worked for an Aiden O’Neary.
He used to be muscle for the Walsh family back in the day but went off the radar for a few years.
He recently popped back up running freelance work out of Chicago and got paid a chunk of cash last month from an account we’ve now traced back to Walsh’s shell company. ”
“Jesus. So, Declan’s not just stirring shit.”
“He’s trying to tear us apart from the inside. Kidnapping Mila was a personal attack on you.”
I stand and pace around the room, my jaw tight and my heart pounding. “What if he goes after Ciara?”
“We won’t let it get to that.”
“He’s already sending men to intercept our shipments and feeding lies to other families to try and make me look weak.”
“When you’re at the top, people will always want you to fail so they can take your place. It’s just the nature of the business.”
“Do you want me to fail?” The words spill from my lips before I can stop them.
There’s a beat of silence before Kieran offers me an answer. “You really think I’d want that?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore. Lorcan’s been in my ear, and you’re questioning my decisions, and now Ciara’s—”
“Stop right there. Don’t you dare lump me in with Lorcan. I may not agree with every choice you make, but I’m still with you. You’re my brother, Ronan. This family... it's all we’ve got.”
“Then why does it feel like everyone is waiting for me to fuck up?”
“Because you’re not acting like yourself. You’re tense and paranoid, and you’re blowing up at people who haven’t done a damn thing to deserve it, me included.”
For once, Kieran might actually be right.
“I know.”
Kieran doesn’t say anything. He knows me well enough to let the silence speak, so I sink down onto the leather couch and sit for a moment, letting the weight of everything settle on my shoulders.
“I hit Stephen.” I sigh. “Punched him in the face like some jealous boyfriend.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Not even a little bit.”
“What the hell could Stephen have done to warrant you taking a swing at him? Shit, unless… Did he hurt Ciara? Because if he did, I’ll kill him myself.”
“No, it was nothing like that.”
“Then what was it?”
“He was... sitting next to her and laughing, acting like—”
“Like he was doing his job? The job you assigned him?”
I grit my teeth. “It wasn’t what he did but rather what it felt like.”
“Since when do you care about feelings?”
Since the moment Ciara agreed to marry me.
“I can’t help it. It’s like I see red the moment someone gets too close to her and…”
“And what? You need to go all alpha male on everyone’s ass?”
“You don’t understand; you’re not married.”
“Don’t give me that crap, Ronan.”
“Have you always spoken to me like this?”
“You mean, telling you the truth? Yeah, because someone has to.”
“It’s a good thing you’re not here right now.”
“Or what? You’d hit me too? Because you and I both know I have the stronger right hook.”
“Who says I’d use my fist?”
Kieran chuckles under his breath, and some of the tension rolls off my shoulders.
“Every time someone gets too close, I feel like I’m going to lose her. And I… I can’t…”
“You won’t. Unless you keep pulling this shit.”
I drag a hand down my face as I lean back against the couch, wondering if this time I might have pushed Ciara too far.
How many times can we keep having the same fight until she decides it’s not worth it?
That I’m not worth it?
“She said I don’t trust her.”
“Do you?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Then prove it. Back off. Give her space and start acting like the man she married and not some psycho who punches her security detail and stalks around like a wounded animal.”
The words hit hard because they’re true. I am acting like a wounded animal, lashing out and growling at anyone who gets too close.
But Ciara’s not the threat, and neither is Stephen.
The real threat is still out there.
“Thanks.”
Kieran laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Don’t thank me. Just don’t make me clean up your mess if she leaves.”
My stomach twists at the thought. “She won’t leave.”
“Don’t be so sure. Even the strongest woman has a breaking point, and Ciara deserves better than a man who makes her walk on eggshells.”
I hate that he’s right. “Have you ever thought about a career in therapy?”
“Most people's problems can be solved with a few bullets, and I doubt they teach you that at therapy school.”
“Therapy school? You mean college?”
Kieran scoffs. “Whatever. The point I’m making is hell no, but if you need a listening ear, brother, you know where to find me.”
After we hang up, I sit in my office for a long time, staring at the wall as I replay the scene in the TV room over and over in my mind.
I fixate on the look on Stephen’s face and the way Ciara lost her shit at me.
I can fix this, but not with flowers or jewelry.
This time, I’m going to have to fix myself because if I don’t, I’m going to lose Ciara, and that scares me a hell of a lot more than any war Declan Walsh could ever start.