Chapter 30 Siobhan
SIOBHAN
The feeling of nothingness that I was trying to portray to Liam is on the verge of crumbling as we drive away, at a sedate pace, in no hurry to get away from the building that’s about to blow.
The street is quiet at this hour. It’s all businesses, and they are all empty.
Gripping my phone, I wait for the explosion and then the phone call that will follow.
“Ready?” Liam asks, glancing over at me and placing one hand on my thigh, the other gripping the steering wheel.
I nod.
I can’t speak. Everything I’ve worked for in the last three years is about to go up in flames, all because I needed to stop Connor from muscling in and taking over that heist operation. Now, no one will ever be able to use that gallery, those tunnels, all that information stockpiled up.
“It’s time,” Liam says, and I gulp.
The explosion behind us tears the dawn apart. It’s a deep, guttural thud that vibrates through the chassis of the sedan and settles in my bones. The rearview mirror turns bright orange, a sudden second sunrise over the city.
My breath hitches, but I don’t look back.
I can’t. If I see the shards of my life raining down on the pavement—the glass, the canvas, the pretense of legitimacy—I might actually scream.
Instead, I focus on Liam’s hand on my leg, his grip tightening just enough to ground me.
He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t speed up. He drives with the terrifying calm of a man who has burned down worlds before.
The gallery is gone. The tunnels have collapsed.
The heist is buried under tons of concrete and ash.
I have just incinerated my father’s master plan to stick it to a man I’ve never even met.
The irony tastes like bile and Champagne.
I am no longer the art dealer protecting a front; I am the front, and the war is now open.
Staring at the phone screen, I wait.
Moments later, as Liam turns onto the road out of the city, the sirens cut through the air.
My grip tightens. I wonder how long it will take the police to call me. Will they do it as soon as they know who the building belongs to? Or will they make sure the fires are out and investigate first?
The uncertainty sits like a rock in my stomach.
My phone buzzes against my palm, a violent vibration that makes me jump despite the anticipation. It’s a private number.
“That was quick,” I mutter, even as relief rips through me. Over and done with before the city is a backdrop.
“Hello?” I answer as steadily as I can.
“Ms. Kelly,” a rough, deep voice says with more than a hint of amusement.
Liam’s head snaps to the side, and he shakes his head.
“Who is this?”
“You have a flair for the dramatic, Ms. Kelly. I’ll give you that.”
The voice is underlined by a jagged edge of violence, which tells me this isn’t the police. I look at Liam. His jaw is locked tight, his eyes fixed on the road, but he mouths a single name that turns my blood to ice.
Connor
“Who is this?” I repeat, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hand.
“Put my son on, Siobhan,” he says, sounding almost weary, “and stop playing games. I don’t have the time or the patience.”
I gesture wildly to Liam, who rolls his eyes and nods. I put it on speaker, more nervous about this than I was waiting for the Garda to call.
“Start talking. You got two minutes,” Liam says, his voice devoid of the warmth he showed me moments ago. He doesn’t look at the device in my hand; his eyes are locked on the road, his profile cut from granite.
“Impressive fireworks, Liam,” Connor’s voice crackles through the tiny speaker, dry and sharp as flint. “Though a bit excessive for a renovation project, wouldn’t you say?”
My stomach drops. He knows. He knows everything. The smoke hasn’t even cleared, and he’s already circling like a shark in bloodied water.
“Unfortunate gas leak. Such a shame,” Liam replies smoothly, his hand tightening on the steering wheel.
“Is that right?” Connor chuckles, a low sound that chills me. But not in the way I’d have expected. He genuinely sounds amused.
“What do you want, Connor?” I interrupt, leaning toward the phone. I won’t let him intimidate me, not after everything.
“Direct. I like that. Your father’s influence had some effect, I see. You burned a section of the board, Siobhan. A bold move. Expensive. But it leaves us with a vacancy in the power structure. Chris is gone. Michael is dead. And you?”
“I’m right here,” I say, staring at the road ahead as the city fades into the rearview.
“Exactly. You’re a Kelly with an O’Neill at her side and a talent for demolition. I’m calling to offer a truce. Temporary, of course.”
Liam snorts, a harsh sound that vibrates through the car. “You don’t do truces, Connor. You do pauses to reload.”
“Cynicism doesn’t suit you, son. Meet me at the estate. One hour. If you don’t, the Gardaí might receive an anonymous tip regarding a body in a utility tunnel. I imagine a murder investigation would complicate your coronation, Ms. Kelly.”
The line goes dead before I can tell him to go to hell.
“Chris?” I mutter, my blood going cold.
Liam shakes his head. “Your father’s… your men took care of him.
No, Connor knew this was going to happen all along.
He knew we were down there. He sent Chris to get him photos he didn’t need or want, knowing we would see him.
This wasn’t about the heist. This was about leverage.
” He slams his hand on the steering wheel. “That wily old fucker!”
“Leverage? I don’t understand.”
“Think about it,” Liam growls, accelerating past a slow-moving truck with a dangerous swerve that sends my stomach lurching.
“Connor doesn’t care about fiat currency or crypto servers.
He cares about power. Absolute control.” He glances at me, his eyes hard.
“He knew if he put Chris in that tunnel, I’d take him out.
He knew I’d protect you. He sacrificed a pawn to secure the queen. ”
My stomach hollows out, a sudden void where understanding rushes in. “He wanted Chris out of the way?”
“He wanted Chris gone, permanently, and he wanted us bound together in fucking blood and secrets. He knew I wouldn’t let you face that threat alone.
” Liam laughs, a dark, humorless sound. “And now he has exactly what he wants. The Kelly heir and the O’Neill heir, united in crime, walking into his house.
He didn’t just want to win the turf war, Siobhan.
He wanted to merge the kingdoms under his banner without firing a single shot himself. ”
I sink back into the leather seat. I thought I was burning down the one thing Connor O’Neill wanted. Instead, I just tied myself into a knot Connor has been tightening since the moment I arrived back in Ireland. Maybe even before.
“So we played right into his hands,” I whisper, bitterness coating my tongue.
“We did,” Liam agrees, his hand finding my knee, his grip bruising and possessive. “But this isn’t the end of everything, Siobhan. It’s just the fucking beginning.”
I have no words because I don’t know what he means and I feel too shocked to ask. My phone rings again, and this time it’s the police.
“You’d better get that,” Liam says, veering off the main road and heading, I assume, to his father’s estate.
“Hello?” I say, again, this time my voice less steady.
“Ms. Siobhan Kelly?” a clipped, official-sounding voice asks.
“Yes, who is this?”
“This is Detective Inspector Byrne, from Pearse Street station,” the voice says, heavy with the gravity of bad news. “I’m afraid I have some distressing information regarding your property on Leeson Street.”
I force a sharp intake of breath, clutching the phone tighter. I have to play the part. I have to be the devastated business owner, not the arsonist who struck the match. “What? What happened? Is it… was there a break-in?”
“There was an explosion, Ms. Kelly. Roughly twenty minutes ago. It appears to be a catastrophic gas leak followed by a significant fire. The fire brigade is on the scene, but the structure is… well, it’s likely a total loss.”
“Oh god,” I whisper, pressing a hand to my mouth. Liam glances sideways at me, his expression grim, but his eyes dark with a twisted sort of pride. He knows exactly what performance I’m giving. “Is anyone hurt? My staff…”
“The building was empty at the time, thankfully. We’ll need you to come down to the station to make a formal statement as soon as possible.”
“I… I can’t right now,” I stammer, letting a sob break my voice. It isn’t entirely fake; the stress of Connor’s call is still vibrating in my bones. “My father… he passed away last night. I’m handling arrangements.”
The silence on the other end is respectful. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Ms. Kelly. Take the day. We’ll be in touch.”
I end the call and let the phone drop into my lap, staring out at the gray blur of the countryside as we speed toward the O’Neill estate.
“Oscar-worthy,” Liam mutters, his grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled.
“I hate this,” I admit. “I hate that Connor is pulling the strings. I hate that I’m lying to the police while driving into the lion’s den.”
“He hasn’t won yet,” Liam says, his voice low and lethal. “He just thinks he has. And that’s exactly where we need him.”