51. Aoife
Aoife
The quiet rumble of the engine fills the space between us. In the back seat, my brother lies unconscious, his hands bound, his chest rising and falling in deep, steady breaths.
I did this.
The thought should break me.
It doesn’t.
It coils around my spine, cold and sharp, like a blade I never meant to wield. But I did. I pressed it to the soft belly of loyalty and sliced clean through.
This isn’t the act of a dutiful sister. It’s a betrayal carved from necessity, born from years of being kept small. He would’ve never handed me the crown. So I took the throne in the only language this world understands—force.
The weight of it sits heavy, but not unfamiliar. Not unwelcome. Maybe this is what power tastes like. Metallic. Quiet. Inevitable.
Somewhere deep in the marrow of me, a voice whispers that this is the beginning of my descent. That once you tie up your own blood, there's no return from the abyss.
But maybe the abyss is where I was meant to rule.
I tighten my grip on my lap, my nails digging into the fabric of my dress. My mind drifts back to earlier today in Eamon’s office.
Seamus lets out a slow breath. “And what exactly do you want from me?”
“I need your help kidnapping my brother.”
He stares at me for a long moment. Then, he laughs, shaking his head. “You’re out of your fucking mind.”
I expected that reaction and I’m prepared to state my case. “I’m trying to convince Ruairi to let me run the Syndicate with him,” I explain, keeping my voice even. “But he refuses to listen. He’s left me with no choice but to take drastic measures.”
Seamus leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “And you think I’d help you why, exactly?”
I meet his gaze, unwavering. “Because once I have control, I’ll put an end to this war between the Syndicates. And that means Eamon stays safe.”
That makes him pause. He exhales slowly, studying me with calculating eyes. “You’ve got some balls. I’ll give you that.”
I stay quiet, letting him think it over.
After a moment, he asks, “Why not go directly to Eamon?”
“Because this isn’t his fight. If I want to prove I’m capable, I need to do this on my own. I need to show that I can use the resources available to me. That I know how to do this.”
Seamus pushes back his chair and stands, taking his time as he walks toward me. He gets close enough that I catch the faint scent of whiskey and gunpowder on his skin. I force myself to hold my ground, even as every instinct warns me to step back.
“I don’t trust you. You’re the reason this war started in the first place,” he admits, leaning in just a fraction more, his voice darkening. “I’ve told Eamon to get rid of you more times than I can count.”
My pulse kicks up as I counter, “And yet, here I am.”
That earns me a short, humorless chuckle. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Because for some goddamn reason, Eamon sees something in you. Something worth keeping.”
Seamus considers me for another long moment. “Fine. I’ll help you. Not because I like you, but because if you really have the power you claim you do, this war ends, and we can all get back to business as usual.”
His expression hardens, and his next words come like a threat wrapped in steel. “But make no mistake, Aoife, if you turn on Eamon, if you backstab me or fuck this up in any way, I’ll kill you myself.”
The weight of his words settles between us. But I don’t show a hint of doubt.
Instead, I extend my hand. “Then I guess we have a deal.”
Once I set the meeting with Ruairi, all it took was a few calls.
The owners of the Cobblestone are loyal to Eamon.
They locked their doors and closed for the day.
Not patrons, not strangers. Most were the pub’s staff mixed with several of Eamon’s foot soldiers who were told to play a part.
The bartender pouring drinks, the old man in the corner nursing a pint—they were all in on it.
Ruairi never saw it coming.
And now, he’s heading toward a fate he could’ve never predicted. A trap set by his own sister.
Seamus drives in silence, focused on the road ahead. He hasn’t asked me if I’m sure about this. Maybe because he already knows the answer.
I sit straighter as the castle comes into view, its towering stone silhouette cutting against the night sky. The gates open before us, and the moment we roll inside, guards are already stepping forward to help.
Ruairi doesn’t stir as they lift him from the car. His head lolls to the side, his body slack as they carry him inside.
I expect them to take him to one of the holding rooms in the underground area that Eamon brought me to. But instead of going to the hidden staircase, we move deeper inside the castle. Until we reach a heavy metal grate embedded in the floor.
I freeze.
One of the guards steps forward, flipping a switch. A mechanical hum fills the air as a lift lowers from the ceiling.
Ruairi is loaded onto the crude device, and it’s lowered into a hollowed-out pit. The guard pulls out a knife and cuts through the ropes that bind him. Then, he’s lifted back out, and the grate is slammed shut over the hole, locking Ruairi inside.
I take a breath, schooling my features into something calm and controlled. Then, I wait. Minutes stretch before a low groan echoes from below.
Ruairi stirs. His movements are sluggish at first as he fully regains consciousness. He jerks upright as his eyes snap open, taking in his surroundings. Slowly, he pushes himself to his feet and looks up. I know the moment his gaze lands on me.
“What the hell is going on, Evie?” he yells. His voice echoes off the cavernous walls.
“I was hoping you would’ve seen reason. That I wouldn’t have had to resort to this.”
He glares up at me, his hands clenching into fists. “Are you fucking crazy?”
“No, Ruairi. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
He exhales harshly, pacing beneath me like a caged animal. “Do you think locking me up is going to get you what you want?”
“The ball’s in your court now,” I say and fold my arms as I stare down at him. “Agree to let me run the Syndicate with you, and this ends right now.”
His laugh is harsh and humorless. “You’re crazy.” His voice hardens. “And after this, you’ll never run the Syndicate with me.”
I let out a quiet hum, tapping my finger against my arm. “We’ll see about that.”
Seamus steps up beside me, arms crossed, as he watches the pit below. "I don’t know what’s more fucked up. The fact that you pulled this off or the fact that you think it’s going to work.”
I don’t take my eyes off Ruairi, who’s pacing below. "I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure."
He studies me for a long moment. "You’ve got ice in your veins. I’ll give you that," he mutters, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "But if this backfires? If he doesn’t cave?" He pauses, his voice dropping lower. "What’s your next move then, princess ?"
I don’t let the nickname or the skepticism in his tone shake me. "He will cave," I repeat, my voice steady. "Because the alternative is worse."
I turn on my heels and address the guards. “Cut the lights.”
A second later, the room is swallowed in pitch black.
Ruairi’s curses follow me as I make my way through the castle with Seamus following close behind.
Neither of us speaks as he starts the drive back to the hotel.
I keep my gaze fixed on the window, watching as the dark countryside blurs past, nothing but twisted trees and moonlit fields bathed in shadows, all the while telling myself I did the right thing.
That I had no choice. But the doubt lingers, quiet and insidious.
It hits me in the silence between breaths. This isn’t a step forward—it’s a fall. And the pit I’ve thrown him into may be the one I can’t crawl out of.