CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR #2
They killed him. The stress killed him.
That monster.
His face explodes. Brains and bone and flesh.
Gore.
In my hair.
Skin stained. Crimson and purple.
My breaths are so loud, so drowning.
Click. Clack.
The shower and incessant squeak of windshield wipers.
I’m supposed to choose. To prove myself. To kill them.
They hunted me.
I can’t hear Wells or find him.
Four of them hold me down. Biting and kicking and spitting. But they win.
No. They don’t. They’re wrong.
Wells should be here. Why isn’t he here? Or real ?
My ring hurts, pinches.
The collar. My fingers scrape against it, the jewels and iciness and skin .
And the voice, a ripple in a pond.
Wells.
“… have to forgive me. Ivanna may be your impressive O’Reilly chair, but she’s my queen, and I can’t seem to hide my obsession.” His chair is beside me now, fingers clasping mine as another hand subtly pinches the back of my neck.
How long have I been gone? Lost to the skulking abyss of trauma and shame.
Liam passes something to Ty, and seconds later, I’m handed a bottle of water, cap off. As I’m sipping, Jared Austen’s eyes ping between the five of us.
“You obviously have a beautiful marriage and a close-knit team as well,” he says with covetous approval. “Let’s move this forward, shall we?”
Daniel rises, buttons his suit jacket, and strides to a side table, where he selects a sword. Luca Cabrini follows behind and does the same. Wells’s grandfather stands before me, Daniel before Wells.
“Kneel here,” Cabrini instructs, so we both drop to our knees.
Wells shoots me a flirty wink before his eyes trail down to the collar on my neck, his lips parting on an inhale.
My throat bobs with hunger. We’re in the midst of being inducted into a cabal, and my husband is envisioning our romp on the plane.
It’s so reminiscent of our wedding—his hitched breath when his eager emeralds landed on me, his impatience with the ceremony, his fervent kiss that suffused every cell of my being.
He was in my marrow even then, like I sensed who we’d become. Who he’d be for me.
My fingers graze over my lip, his eyes flicking to the movement with understanding.
He’s always done that—read me so easily.
He used me to acquire this position, even if it was with my father’s blessing, but I can’t help feeling grateful he did.
I wouldn’t be kneeling here without him.
I have O’Reilly blood, and I was weaponized and trained by the brilliant Dr. Kingston, but it’s Gavin Wells who awakened me. My dark knight.
Daniel launches the induction speech, pulling me from my trance.
“Ours is a knighthood that serves without a king, who answers only to KORT, and who orchestrates for the good of both empire and kingdom—citizens of The Order and the empires of Balzano, Cabrini, Logan, and O’Reilly.
While a seat is responsible to his—or her —own dominion, the welfare of KORT must always be foremost.”
Cabrini lifts the sword. “Do you, Ivanna Kingston Wells O’Reilly, vow to uphold the honor of KORT with both fortitude and equanimity?”
“I do,” I confirm.
He lowers the sword to my right shoulder. “We hereby knight thee as an honorable member of KORT for the O’Reilly empire.” And up over my head to the other.
Daniel parrots the process on Wells. “Do you, Gavin Wells Cabrini, vow to uphold the honor of KORT with both fortitude and equanimity?”
My husband’s deep, husky tenor slices into the room, sharper than the blade at his shoulder. “I do.”
I watch with awe and reverence for this surreal moment as my birth father knights my husband. Daniel taps the sword on each of Wells’s shoulders. “We hereby knight thee as an honorable member of KORT for the Cabrini empire.”
When we stand, Luca Cabrini drags me into an unexpected hug. “Keep gripping that Balzano prick by the balls, young lady.” He chuckles in my ear as he pats my back. “Welcome to KORT and, more importantly, to the family. My wife and I look forward to getting to know you and my grandson.”
The exchange lodges in my throat in a startling realization. Wells has family. Has he let that sink in? This extension of his mother standing before me?
“It will be my honor, Mr. Cabrini. ”
He balks. “None of that. You’ll call me Luca now.”
Before I can respond, Daniel snatches me away and tugs me into a hug. “I know I have no right to be, but I am overwhelmingly proud of you, Ivy. Truly. You earned this.”
I don’t have to look to know what I’ll find in his eyes. It’s evident in the thick timbre of his voice, the warmth of his embrace, the cadence of his breaths. He’s not congratulating an heir; he’s clutching his daughter. A daughter he spent over two decades combing the earth for.
I squeeze him back. “You have every right, and I am so grateful, Daniel. Thank you for never giving up on me.”
He pulls back on a breath, scanning my face with the tenderness of an adoring father. The gesture makes me miss my dad, but also fills me with gratitude at the realization that I have two. Two amazing men who yearned to claim me as their child.
Jared Austen interrupts the moment, still seated at the center of the half-moon with an open laptop. “Before we bring in the traitors, let’s get a few things on the books. Second-in-command?”
Slipping back into my leather chair, I answer, “Tytan Reynolds for the O’Reilly’s.”
All eyes flit to me, and Balzano barks a laugh. “You won’t be keeping Robert O’Reilly on?”
Robert is Daniel’s cousin and right-hand man.
He’s currently hovering near him as security and nodding at me with reassurance.
I informed them both of my plans when we met in South Carolina and, again, in a phone call last week.
Robert was more than gracious. We might be related, but I don’t know him yet.
Staring Johnny in his smug face, I explain, “I will, but Mr. Reynolds will be my second-in-command.”
Luca glances between Daniel and me, eyebrows crouched low, because Wells did not offer him the same advance courtesy, so his mind is surely racing. “That’s generally reserved for family.”
I smile as serenely as possible, aware this may be as challenging to accept as their tolerance of a woman at the table.
“And Ty is mine. I think we can all agree that blood isn’t always as thick as we’d like.
Robert will have his place to shine. I am honored to work with him, but this is a new regime. ”
Jared measures the tension in the room with a quick sweep before settling on Wells. “And for the Cabrini camp?”
“Liam Graves,” Wells says, much to Luca’s dismay.
Wells intended to blindside him, not out of malice, but because his grandfather would’ve fought this tooth and nail.
It had to be after the power shifted. “You won’t find anyone more adept at data mining than Mr. Graves, but my wife covered all other objections beautifully,” he adds, lacing our fingers, his thumb dusting over my wedding ring.
“Good enough,” Jared replies, ignoring Luca’s glower. “Both are vetted and tried, so that’s an easy transfer. Anyone else we need to log?”
“Yes. Gage Porter will work for us both as lead enforcer,” I supply. “Actually, all three will have dual access.”
Payne Logan rubs at his clean-shaven jaw. “We don’t advise that.”
We anticipated the skepticism and warning, but that won’t deter Wells or me from having these three men as the most trusted resources in both factions.
Wells peers back at him without hesitation. “Noted.”
“Fine.” Jared grins, studying Wells and me. It’s full of mirth. I bet my father liked him. “Are you prepared to sentence?”
I pump assurance into Wells’s hand as I rise with conviction. “I am.”
My words enact a magical spell of sorts.
Double doors swing open with a whoosh, a damp and moldy stench gushing forth.
The disheveled ladies are dragged into the room and hooked on to the altar twenty feet from us—hands and feet both cloaked in manacles, voices silenced with ball gags, and a deathlike pallor to their dry skin.
My tongue sinks heavy with the taste of baking soda and cinnamon.
Bitter and choking .
A confection lacking sweetener.
That’s what stands before me, trembling, beseeching.
When I note the terror flickering in their red-rimmed eyes, my bones ache. These weren’t women destitute and struggling, wrangling their reluctant conscience because they were crushed by impossibly harrowing circumstances. These women had it all—money and security.
Family.
What level of greed darkens a soul enough to murder an innocent?
Their crimes are stated, too many for me to collect. They swirl around the rim of the black hole, but I catch the essence.
Other names are rattled off, those involved whose demise has already been met. I don’t recognize most. Only two. Kent, Maureen’s husband. And Declan, Deidre’s son.
Daniel’s family.
With Kent involved, Maureen’s children will be orphans, like my men. My stomach knots.
And yet what kind of parents must they be, willing to kill her brother’s daughter for a slim chance at power?
It wasn’t a fleeting lapse in judgment either. It was years of perseverance.
It’s all so jumbled in my head.
But one detail keeps circling.
The pride emanating off Daniel that day in Charleston, when he showed me their pictures. “Family is family,” he said.
This must be breaking him. Not only as a leader who had a leak in his organization, but also as a man who’s been betrayed by the people who were his home.
Chafed by those who rubbed closest.
Their bloodshot pleas land on me with a spark of hope. What are they hoping for? Something quick? Or in their gloomy world, do I gleam like a paragon of virtue?
I may be, but that virtue won’t be championing them .