Chapter 34 #2
I swallow hard, the weight of the gun in my hand suddenly heavier than before.
This is what it means to lead. Not just giving orders, but pulling the trigger myself when it counts.
My mind races through the possibilities: Ryan O’Sullivan pushing boundaries, Connor’s absence from the funeral like a deliberate shadow.
Any of them could be pulling strings, testing me on the day I buried my father’s empty casket.
“Make him scream,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “I want names. Real ones, this time.”
Liam nods, approval flickering in his gaze like a spark in the dark. He grabs a shard of splintered wood from the ruined door. It’s long and jagged, perfect for improvised pain. The man starts babbling, pleas turning to whimpers as Liam kneels down, pressing the point against his wounded shoulder.
“Last chance,” Liam murmurs, almost gently. “Who?”
“Thomas Landy!” the man blurts, sweat beading on his forehead. “It was Landy. Said you were too soft after the old man died. Wanted to take a cut of the southside operations, make it look like internal chaos so you’d fold.”
Landy. That spineless weasel who shifted in his seat during my eulogy, who kept his distance at the graveside. It fits. It’s subtle sabotage, not outright war.
I step closer, close enough to smell the intruder’s fear-sweat mixing with his blood. “What else? Details. Or he starts carving.”
The man’s eyes widen, flicking between us. “He... he paid us off this morning. Said to wait until after the wake, when you were alone. Make it look like a hit from inside. Frame job to start a war, weaken you both ways.”
Clever. Turn my suspicion on my own men while Landy carves off territory in the confusion. I almost admire it, if it wasn’t so fucking pathetic.
Liam presses the wood shard in, just enough to draw fresh blood. “I asked your colleague over there, but I’m asking you, now. Are you fucking stupid?”
The man’s face pales as Liam slams the wood directly into the bullet hole. He grunts, and Liam twists it.
“Answer me, arsehole. Are you fucking stupid to come for her while I’m here? Didn’t you get the memo? No one fucking goes near her, or they die. Give me one good reason why you should live.”
“Double cross,” the spineless bastard says immediately. “I can be your inside man in Landy’s crew.”
I stare at the bleeding mess of a man on the floor, his offer hanging in the air like smoke.
Double cross? As if I’d trust a rat who just tried to put a bullet in me while I’m half-naked and wrecked from fucking the man beside me.
My pulse still thunders in my ears, but the fear’s morphing into something sharper, hotter, a rage that burns away the vulnerability of moments ago.
Liam glances at me, his eyes questioning without a word, the makeshift wooden stake still buried in the intruder’s shoulder. He’s waiting for my call, just like he promised. My weapon, my choice. I tighten my grip on the gun in my hand, feeling its weight, its promise of finality.
“You’re already inside something,” I say, my voice low and steady despite the adrenaline shaking through my limbs. “A grave. That’s where this ends for you.”
The man’s face crumples, sweat mixing with the blood trickling down his cheek. “Please, Ms. Kelly. I can prove my loyalty! Names, times, the whole plan. Landy wants your southside routes by week’s end. He’s meeting his lieutenants tomorrow at the old distillery on—”
Liam twists the shard deeper, cutting off his babble with a wet scream that echoes off the bedroom walls.
“She’s not interested in your sales pitch,” he growls, but his gaze stays on me, reading every flicker of my expression.
He’s hard again, I notice, his cock straining against his half-zipped pants like the violence is foreplay to him.
Maybe it is. Maybe it is to me too, because heat pools between my thighs even as revulsion twists my gut.
I move forward, ignoring the sticky warmth of blood under my bare feet.
“Landy sent three of you to kill me on the night of my father’s funeral.
That’s not a negotiation; that’s a declaration.
” I press the barrel of my gun against the man’s temple, feeling the cool metal meet his feverish skin.
My finger hovers on the trigger, steady now.
No more vomiting in bathrooms, no more pretending.
This is who I am—what I’ve become. “But thanks for the details. Saves me the trouble of hunting them down myself.”
“Wait—” His plea dissolves into a gargle as I squeeze the trigger. The shot is muffled against his skull, but the kickback jolts up my arm, and his body jerks once before going limp. Blood sprays across my calves, warm and final, and I don’t flinch. I can’t afford to.
Liam rises slowly. His eyes rake over me, taking in the mess we made. His cum still drying on my thighs, the blood spatter on my skin, the gun hanging loose in my grip. “You didn’t hesitate,” he says, voice rough with something like pride, or maybe hunger.
“I couldn’t.” I drop the gun onto the floor, my hands finally starting to tremble now that it’s over. “He saw us. Knew too much. And if Landy’s moving that fast...”
Liam closes the distance in two strides, his hands framing my face, thumbs brushing away a speck of blood on my cheek.
“We’ll handle Landy. Tonight proved you’re ready.
” His mouth crashes onto mine, the kiss brutal and dominant.
I melt into it, needing the anchor, the reminder that we’re alive, that we’re in this together.
His hands grip my ass, and he lifts me, turning to slam me against the wall.
This time, my panties aren’t moved to the side, they are ripped from my body with a tug that makes the fabric cut into my flesh painfully.
I cry out as Liam rams his cock into me.
The wall is cold on my back, scraping against the scabs of Liam’s name carved into my skin, but the pain only heightens everything, twisting it into something electric and desperate.
He thrusts into me again, relentless, his cock buried deep, stretching me to the brink where pleasure borders on agony.
I wrap my legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass, urging him deeper, harder, because right now, this is the only thing that makes sense, this raw, brutal connection between us amid the carnage we’ve created.
Blood from the dead men slicks the soles of my feet, soaks into the plush rugs.
Their lifeless forms are within reach as we fuck while the world is ending, but it doesn’t repulse me; it fuels the fire raging inside.
“Harder,” I gasp, my nails raking down his back.
He growls in response, his mouth crashing against mine in a kiss that’s all teeth and dominance, biting my lips until I bleed.
Each powerful drive of his hips pins me in place, the friction building that coil of heat low in my belly again.
His hand slides up to my throat, squeezing just enough to make my vision spot, to remind me who’s in control now, and I arch into it, loving the way he commands every inch of me.
“You’re mine to fuck, to protect, to kill for,” he rasps against my ear, his breath hot and ragged.
“No one makes you afraid, no one touches you, no one takes you from me.”
The words send me spiraling, my pussy clenching around him as another orgasm builds, fierce and unstoppable.
I shatter with a cry that’s half sob, half scream, my body convulsing as waves of ecstasy crash through me.
Liam follows seconds later, burying himself deep with a guttural groan, his release flooding me, as I milk his length until I feel like I might snap it in half.
He doesn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he holds me there, pinned against the wall, our foreheads pressed together as our breathing slows.
The room reeks of sex and death, a twisted perfume that clings to our skin, but in this moment, with his arms around me, I feel unbreakable.
“We need to clean this up,” I finally murmur, my voice hoarse, practical thoughts intruding on the haze.
Liam sets me down gently, his hands steadying me as my legs wobble. He zips himself up, his gaze sweeping the room like he’s already calculating the logistics. “Declan first. We call him in, see if that rat was telling the truth about Landy.”
I nod, grabbing a robe from the chair and wrapping it around myself, the fabric sticking to the drying blood on my legs. My phone’s on the nightstand, miraculously untouched by the chaos. I dial Declan, putting it on speaker as it rings.
He answers on the second tone, voice alert despite the late hour. “Ms. Kelly? Everything alright?”
“Intruders,” I say flatly, watching Liam drag one of the bodies toward the en suite bathroom, efficient and emotionless. “Three of them. Dead now. They mentioned Landy.”
A pause, then Declan’s curse, low and vicious. “I told you I should be there. Your father never dismissed… Fuck it. I can berate you another time. I’m on my way. Ten minutes. Lock down the house until I get there.”
“Already done.” I end the call, feeling bad for making him feel guilty. It’s just that part of me that will take time to squash. I meet Liam’s eyes. “If he’s lying, if he’s part of this...”
“Then he joins them. But my gut says the intruder was telling the truth. Landy’s been too quiet, too smug.”
I pace to the window, peering out at the dark estate grounds. No movement, no signs of more attackers, but paranoia coils tight in my chest. “I won’t make this mistake again,” I say grimly. “I dismissed the guard. I told them to leave so I could not mourn in peace. It nearly got us killed.”
Liam chuckles. It’s dark and faintly amused. “There was never a chance of that, sweetheart. Don’t you know by now what I will do to keep you breathing?”
I turn to face him, seeing that intensity, that possession that borders on obsession, simmering in his gaze.
“I know,” I whisper, reaching out to cup his jaw, my thumb grazing the rough stubble.
It’s that look. The one that promises he’d burn the world to ash just to keep me warm, and it finally settles the adrenaline spiking through my veins.
He doesn’t say anything. He crosses the room to retrieve his shirt, pulling it over his bruised and scratched skin. The transition is seamless from the man who just worshipped my body to the enforcer ready to debrief the facts.
“Get dressed, Siobhan,” he says, his tone shifting completely to tactician. “Declan will be here in five minutes. He needs to see the head of the family, not...” He gestures vaguely to my robe and the carnage around us, which suits our relationship beautifully.
I nod and pull on a pair of dark trousers and a silk blouse, my hands steady as I button the fabric over the fresh bruises on my skin. Declan needs to see the woman who just survived an assassination attempt and enjoyed the retaliation.
“He’s here,” Liam says, checking the magazine of his gun before tucking it into his waistband, using that supersonic hearing he has mastered over the years. That is something I need to work on.
I step over the spreading bloodstain on the rug, shoving my bloodied feet into a pair of heels I left near the closet and stalk past Liam, so that the first person Declan sees is me.