43. Aoife
Aoife
The room is dark. The only sound is the soft rhythm of Eamon’s breath beside me. My body is still relaxed from the way he touched me—claimed me. For the first time in weeks, I feel at peace—wrapped in the scent of him, the strength of his arms.
But peace never lasts.
The shrill ring of Eamon’s phone slices through the quiet, yanking us both from sleep. His muscles tense beneath me as he reaches for it, his voice rough with sleep as he answers.
One second. That’s all it takes. One second for his entire body to go rigid.
He swings his legs over the side of the bed, his posture instantly alert. “I’m on my way.”
I push up onto my elbows. “What’s wrong?”
He’s already up, yanking on his clothes and grabbing his gun. “Obsidian’s on fire.”
The words are like ice down my spine.
“I’m coming with you.” I shove the sheets back, reaching for my clothes.
He stops me with a hard, unyielding don’t test me look. “No, you’re not.”
“Eamon—”
“No.” His voice is final, but I don’t care.
“It might be your club,” I argue. “But I have a right to know what’s going on.”
He closes the space between us, gripping my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You’re staying here. My guards will be stationed outside. Under no circumstances do you leave.”
I go to argue again, but something dangerous flashes in his expression. “For once,” he murmurs. “do as you’re told.” His fingers tighten just slightly. “I wouldn’t survive if anything happened to you.”
Then he kisses me, hard and quick, before turning and striding out the door.
I don’t move, standing there in the dim light of the bedroom, my pulse hammering in my throat. I wouldn’t survive.
I don’t have time to process what those words mean before a cold sensation prickles up my spine, the unmistakable whisper of dread curling around me. This was no accident.
The phone rings once, twice—then connects.
“Are you responsible for the fire at Obsidian?” I ask, skipping any kind of greeting, my voice sharp with accusation.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ruairi says, too calm. Too practiced.
“Don’t play dumb with me,” I shoot back. “People could’ve been hurt.”
“You’re right,” he says coolly. “And if you don’t break things off with your boyfriend and come home, they will be.”
A slow, simmering rage spreads through my chest like wildfire.
“I can’t believe how cruel and heartless you are,” I breathe.
“I’m not the one tearing this family apart,” he snaps. “That’s on you.”
There’s a beat of silence before his voice lowers. “Come home, Aoife. Walk away from him before someone gets killed.”
My breathing falters, unsteady and shallow. I know Ruairi. He’s not bluffing.
I should be afraid. I should be devastated.
But instead, something colder, stronger rises in me.
Resolve.
“If you’re waiting for me to fall into line and obey,” I say, my voice like steel, “you’re going to be waiting a long fucking time.”
Without waiting for his response, I end the call, dress quickly, and head for the door. The moment I step out, two of Eamon’s men move to block my way.
“Boss said you’re to stay inside.”
“We all know I don’t take orders from your boss.” My hands find my hips, stance defiant, chin lifted just enough to make my point clear.
The two men exchange a glance, clearly torn between their orders and the reality of who they’re dealing with.
One of them straightens, setting his jaw. “It’s for your safety.”
“And you think standing here playing gatekeeper is going to keep me safe? That’s adorable.” The sarcasm rolls off my tongue as I cross my arms, letting the weight of my glare do the rest.
The other guard shifts slightly, but neither moves to stop me as I step forward.
“Miss Quigley,” the first one says, his voice strained with warning.
“Unless you’re planning on physically stopping me, you should move out of my way.”
They exchange glances, but neither makes a move.
“That’s what I thought.” I brush past them and step into the elevator, catching one of them already reaching for his phone, no doubt to call Eamon.
My pulse is steady and my spine straight as I press the button for the lobby.
Good. Let him know I’m coming.
This isn’t just his war anymore. It’s mine.
When the doors open, Eamon’s waiting there. His stance is rigid, his face carved from stone. He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t have to. The fury radiating from him is enough to make the air feel charged, electric.
I don’t give him the chance to speak first. “I spoke to Ruairi. I needed to know if he’s responsible for the fire.”
Eamon’s nostrils flare, his jaw clenching. “And?”
“He acted like he didn’t know what I was talking about,” I reply.
His expression darkens into something lethal. “Do you believe him?”
I lift my chin. “No. He threatened more violence if I don’t break things off with you and go home.”
Eamon’s silent for a moment. “And what do you want?” he asks, the tension in his body coils tight.
I meet his gaze without hesitation. “Ruairi needs to understand that no amount of threats will break me.” I take a step closer, closing the distance between us.
“I choose you, Eamon,” I say, my voice softer but no less fierce.
“It’s not about defiance. It’s about choice.
And I won’t let my brother, or anyone, take that from me. ”
I see the war raging inside him. “I’ve been holding off on going after him,” he finally says. “Out of respect for you. But this? This changes everything.” Eamon clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides. “He brought the danger too close. We could’ve been in that club. You could’ve been hurt.”
My stomach twists. “Did anyone?—?”
“All the guests made it out,” he says. “But one of my men is in the hospital with severe burns.”
Guilt knots in my chest. “I’m so sorry.”
“No. This is not on you.” His voice is firm. “This is on him, and I’m going to make sure he fucking pays.”
I shift my weight, unsure of my next move. Eamon watches me, his deep blue eyes missing nothing as I press my lips together, debating whether or not to say anything.
“Spit it out, Aoife,” he snaps, his voice rough with exhaustion and frustration. “Whatever it is, just say it.”
I exhale quietly. “When I got home earlier, I was planning to tell you something,” I say, my voice tight. “Before everything happened.”
His focus sharpens instantly. “What is it?”
“The meeting was about a weapons shipment Ruairi’s expecting.” I pull my phone out of my pocket. Unlocking it, I scroll for a second before holding it out to him. “I was able to get some pictures.”
Eamon takes the phone from me. He’s quiet as he scrolls through the images. The men at the table. The paperwork. A few blurry shots of what looks like manifests. “The pictures aren’t perfect, but it’s something.”
A slow satisfaction curls in his expression. “This is good, mo chroí ,” he says, meeting my eyes. “Really fucking good.”
Relief floods through me, but I push it down before it can show. After everything that happened tonight, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it wasn’t this.
He hands the phone back, his fingers brushing against mine. “Thank you.”
I nod and look away. I don’t know if he realizes it, but those two words mean so much.
Before I can process it, he grips my shoulders and turns me back toward the elevator. “And now you’re going back upstairs.”
My blood boils. “You can’t just send me away like a child.”
“Watch me.” His voice drops lower. “And if you come back down again, I’ll make sure you can’t sit for a week.”
“Really? That’s your big threat?”
His eyes glint with something dark. “Would you like a demonstration?”
My pulse flutters, but I narrow my eyes. “I hate you.”
He smirks. “No, you don’t.”
Then he grabs my chin, kisses me hard, and steps back. “I’ll be up as soon as possible,” he says, stepping back, allowing the doors to slide shut between us.
As soon as I’m alone, I lean back against the wall and take a deep breath. It feels like the walls are closing in on me. I should be trying to stop this war. I should call Ruairi and beg him to back down.
But I won’t.
Because this isn’t just about Eamon. This is about me.
This is about proving that I’m more than just Ruairi’s twin sister—more than someone he thinks needs protecting. My brother needs to accept me. Needs to understand that I’m not going anywhere.
If he pushes, I’ll push back.
If he sets fire to my world, I’ll walk through the flames.