CHAPTER SIXTEEN
conall
The man hung like a rag doll, his weight pulling on the chains that bound his wrists to the hook. The bay was silent except for the faint drip of water into the drain below and Sean’s boots scuffing against the concrete floor as he paced. Blood stained the man’s shirt, and his face was swollen to the extent that one eye had completely disappeared beneath swollen, purple flesh.
He still wasn’t talking.
Sean had spent hours working on him, employing methods that were both precise and brutal. My enforcer was thorough—he knew how to keep a man alive and conscious long enough to reveal every last secret. But this bastard was either too stubborn or too stupid to break.
I stepped closer, the soles of my shoes clicking against the floor with a deliberate sound. He flinched at the noise but didn’t look my way. His head lolled forward, and blood dripped from his split lip onto the concrete.
“You’ve had a long morning,”
I said, my tone calm and nearly conversational. “But I’d bet it hasn’t been as long as the one you’re about to have. Would you like me to paint a picture of what happens next if you continue testing my patience?”
His head tilted slightly, a weak gesture of defiance. “Go to hell,”
he rasped, his voice hoarse from screaming.
Sean’s jaw twitched, and his fingers flexed at his sides. He lived for moments like this, but I raised a hand to stop him. It wasn’t time yet.
“See, here’s the thing,”
I said, circling him slowly. “You didn’t go after just anyone. You came after her. That makes this personal.”
I crouched in front of him, meeting his one good eye. “You don’t seem like a man acting alone. So, who sent you?”
He exhaled a wet, gurgling laugh, his head thrown back. “You believe you’re untouchable, O’Kelly, that you can hide her away and keep her safe. You’re a fool.”
My blood ran cold at his words, but I didn’t show it. The bastard wanted a reaction, and I wouldn’t give him one. The implication that I couldn’t protect her echoed in the bay, and even my men along the edges of the walls had heard. “Who do you work for?”
I spat at him, following it with a hard blow to the back of his left ear, making his head snap and blood fly.
His lips curled into a semblance of a grin, blood smearing his teeth as his head lolled to one side. “Why don’t you ask her? Perhaps she knows why someone would come looking.”
The implication hit me like a punch to the gut, and I breathed heavily through my teeth. Four counts in… hold… and three counts out. However, Sean wasn’t as restrained. He lunged forward, gripping the man by the throat.
“You better pray he keeps holding me back,”
Sean growled, his fingers tightening until the man’s face turned an alarming shade of red. “I’m going to start cutting off body parts. We’ll start with fingers and move on to other appendages.”
“Sean,”
I said sharply. My enforcer hesitated but let him go, stepping back with a glare that could’ve melted steel.
The man coughed violently, blood and spit splattering the floor. He chuckled again when he finally caught his breath, though it sounded weaker this time. “You’re losing your touch, Conall. You can’t even take down one man.”
I straightened, rolling my sleeves up further.
“Who sent you?”
I asked again, my voice now quieter and more menacing. “The Vallones?”
That wiped the grin off his face, yet he still didn’t answer. His silence spoke volumes, though—a flicker of recognition crossed his features before he concealed it behind a sneer.
“Ah,”
I said softly. “So you’re connected to the Italians after all.”
His laugh sounded hollow and strained. “Do you really think the Vallones are the only ones who hate you? Open your eyes, O’Kelly. You’ve made many enemies.”
I stepped closer, gripping his jaw firmly enough to make him wince. “You came into my city. You attacked someone under my protection. Do you really think I won’t hunt every last of you down until nothing is left?”
He didn’t answer, but I felt a slight tremor run through him. Good. Fear was a powerful motivator.
“Tell me who sent you, and I’ll make this quick,”
I offered, though it was a lie. He didn’t deserve a quick death.
He spat at my feet, a mix of blood and saliva splattering my shoes. “You’ll never find out,”
he said, his voice rasping with what little strength he had left. “But it won’t matter. You can’t protect her. Not from what’s coming.”
Sean stepped forward again, but I didn’t stop him this time.
“Break him,”
I said coldly, turning toward the door. “When he’s ready to talk, I’ll be upstairs.”
Sean’s grin was sharp and feral as he reached for a pair of pliers on the nearby table.
“If he isn’t ready to talk,”
I shrugged. “Break him anyway. Dump him in pieces.”
“Yes, boss.”
Sean’s grin was malicious.
I didn’t look back as I left the room, but his screams trailed behind me all the way up the stairs.
**
The edge of my water glass left a faint ring on the polished surface of the conference table. I exhaled sharply, picked up the glass, wiped the ring away with the edge of my sleeve, and set the damn thing down precisely in the center of one of the wood’s intricate grain swirls. I didn’t know why that mattered, but it did.
Marriage.
The word settled over me, not like an iron shackle as some men might feel — cold and clamping tight — but comfortably.
I had done what I needed to do. I maneuvered and manipulated situations to marry Francesca, specifically and promptly. The blood oath made it inevitable, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t have drawn things out or waited. However, I had grown tired of that. I liked the idea of her being bound to me. Permanently.
I ran a hand over my jaw and forced myself to focus. The door swung open, and Angelo strode in, radiating irritation. He wasn’t just angry. He was insulted. I could see it in the tight set of his mouth and the sharp, controlled way he pulled out the chair across from me and sat down. The air in the room thickened as he folded his arms, his dark eyes fixed on me as if I were a piece of shit he’d just stepped in.
Angelo had always been emotional. He fought hard and loved just the same.
We had been friends since we were boys, and I knew I had crossed a line by marrying Francesca without her brothers present, as if it were some kind of secret. Part of me was afraid to give her the chance to back out, and if I knew Angelo, he would have given her the opportunity to run.
“You have some nerve,”
he said, his voice low and edged in anger. “Marrying my sister without even a courtesy call?”
His mouth flattened, and he turned away from me before adding, “Without us even being there, you bastard. She was alone.”
I arched an eyebrow, reached for my drink, and hesitated when I noticed the ring of condensation forming again. I should have used a coaster. I wiped it away before meeting his glare head-on. “The blood oath dictated it. And she wasn’t alone, you eejit. She was with me.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Conall.”
Angelo leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table, tension coiling within him. “The fucking oath, give me a break. Fine. You were going to marry her, but couldn’t you have called me to be there? Why did you have to marry her so quickly?”
His eyes suddenly narrowed. “She deserved a ceremony, at least.”
I didn’t answer immediately because he was right. But the thing about being right is that it doesn’t always fucking matter.
“I did what had to be done,”
I finally said. “I met my obligation.”
Angelo exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his mouth, his fingers pressing down as if trying to prevent himself from saying something worse. “She’s my sister, Con. My baby sister. And you, you obsessive, cold-blooded bastard, you just—”
He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I get it. I do. But I don’t have to like it.”
I could accept that. I didn’t expect him to be pleased about it.
We sat in silence for a long moment, the city’s sounds muffled by the reinforced windows of my office. Finally, Angelo sighed and leaned back in his chair. His eyes remained sharp, but his fury was diminishing. “Are you going to take care of her?”
I nodded once. “Always.”
His jaw tightened. “That better be the truth.”
It was. Regardless of what this marriage meant or how it had come to be, Francesca was mine to protect. That was non-negotiable.
Angelo blew out a slow breath, then scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Fuck, man. You and your neat little fucking plans.”
Before I could respond, the door opened again, and Paddy strolled in, his usual smirk in place as he surveyed the tension in the room. “Ah, lovely, I see we’re all playing nice.”
Angelo gave him a flat look. “Piss off, Paddy.”
Paddy grinned even wider before dropping into the chair beside me. “I’ve got your tracker.”
“You’re going to start tracking her now?”
Angelo asked incredulously.
I ignored him and examined the necklace critically. It was small, discreet, high-quality, and fashionable. Nobody would be able to tell what it truly was. To the naked eye, it would just seem to be a beautiful necklace.
Paddy leaned back, arms crossed, amusement dancing in his gaze. “Nothing says ‘romantic husband’ like slapping a tracker on your wife, eh?”
I gave him a quick glance. “It’s for her safety.”
“Sure, sure,”
he said, waving his hand. “And certainly not because you’re wound tighter than a goddamn drum.”
I pushed the box aside, no longer willing to indulge his nonsense. “Are you finished?”
“Nah, I could do this all day,”
Paddy said with a grin. He glanced at Angelo and whistled softly. “Man, it looks like he’s two seconds away from rearranging your face.”
Angelo didn’t respond. He merely exhaled deeply and pushed himself up from his chair. He looked at me for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t like it. Did she agree to it?”
“She did, along with a bodyguard. Your sister is tough.”
I wiped the condensation ring once more, feeling annoyed.
“My new sister had her own contract drawn up. Frankie is hysterical,”
Paddy added with a chuckle, as if it were the highlight of his day. However, this news caused Angelo to brighten up.
“She did? Good for her,”
he smirked. “She’s smart. All right, I’ll stay out of it then and let you two sort it out.”
Paddy leaned back in his chair, arms resting behind his head. “Well, wasn’t that just a heartwarming fucking moment?”
I ignored him. I had more important things to focus on, such as ensuring that Francesca remained exactly where she belonged.
With me.
“Might as well tell you now she was attacked at work yesterday,”
I admitted, knowing that Angelo would go off the deep end all over again. I wasn’t disappointed. He came unglued, coming around the table and tumbling into me with all his Italian fury.
“And you didn’t call me? You fucker!”
Ultimately, we both landed a few solid punches and ended up with bloody knuckles. Angelo fought dirty, driven by the fury of a thousand suns. He had always been a scrapper. Sadly for him, I didn’t hold back just because he was a friend. My brother lounged against the wall, watching like it was pay-per-view, insisting he was neutral like Switzerland.
“You’re an asshole,”
Angelo finally muttered as we broke apart. “You should have texted or called like a normal person. Tell me what happened.”
He straightened his clothes, walked over to the sidebar, and poured himself a drink, wincing as the alcohol touched his lips.
I shrugged. Who claimed to be normal these days? It seemed overrated, anyway. Quickly, I reviewed the events surrounding the incident at the hospital and the limited information we had. I had assigned Paddy and Finn to investigate what they could find, but it resulted in a big fat zero.
“So you’ve got nothing,”
Angelo said gloomily, swirling the liquor in his glass.
“Well, I wouldn’t say nothing.”
Paddy opened the computer monitors on the wall to display the images we had recovered from the hospital stairwells. “These show the man we are certain assaulted, Frankie,”
Paddy said as he clicked through each image.
Angelo peered at the screens. The man appeared to know exactly how each camera was positioned, enabling him to conceal his face. “This guy is a pro,”
Angelo remarked.
“Definitely. Look here.”
Paddy displayed another image of the same man exiting the hospital, his ball cap pulled low over his face.
“Frankie brushed it off as random?”
Angelo’s brows furrowed in confusion as Paddy showed another image of the same man getting into an SUV that had pulled up to the curb. With tinted windows and a driver, it then sped away into traffic. “Do you have a plate for that?”
“Sure do,”
Paddy grinned. “We’re running it as we speak. So far, it’s a dummy corporation, but we’ll track it down to see where that leads.”
“She believes it’s random, but I think it’s professional. Probably Vallone. I’ve asked Maxim and Ilias for their thoughts on it.”
Angelo let out a harsh breath, his grip tightening around his glass. “Vallone,”
he muttered, shaking his head. “That bastard’s circling like a vulture. This wouldn’t be the first time he sent someone to test the waters, but going after Francesca? Low blow.”
I nodded, watching the screens as Paddy zoomed in on the SUV’s rear bumper, highlighting a barely visible mark. “No, it wouldn’t. But he just made the mistake of targeting Francesca, and that’s not something I’m going to let slide.”
Angelo placed his drink down with a sharp clink, his eyes flashing with barely contained fury. “Then we handle it. Quickly. I don’t want my sister looking over her shoulder whenever she steps outside.”
Paddy clicked his tongue. “I’m already working on it. Finn is tracking the vehicle’s route using traffic cameras. It shouldn’t be long before we have a clearer lead.”
“We found the guy, but he wasn’t very cooperative, so don’t get your hopes up. He turned out to be a dead end.”
“In more ways than one,”
Paddy chuckled.
“You got him? I want a shot at him,”
Angelo grumbled. “Maybe you couldn’t break him, but I’ll make that bastard beg.”
Murder lurked in Angelo’s eyes, yet we both understood that sometimes torture wouldn’t provide the answers we sought. Some men simply didn’t break. They had no answers at all.
“Trust me. The guy didn’t know jack shit. It was all a setup for that poor fucker. There was a drop where he received the information on who to approach, and money was transferred to his account. A second payment was already arranged. We’ll track the money.”
“Did you make him pay?”
Angelo gritted out finally, then scoffed. “Of course you did. Who am I talking to? You probably got your information and handed Sean the poor bastard.”
“Yep. Sean was too eager to work him over. Unfortunately, the bastard didn’t know anything, but at least he suffered.
“Sometimes, that’s all we can ask for.”
I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly as I considered my options. Francesca was strong—anyone who thought otherwise was a fool—but she was also unprepared for the chaos of war. That was my responsibility.
I rubbed my knuckles, which still throbbed from Angelo’s overly hard cheekbone. I sent him an irritated glare. “We’ve got eyes on Vallone’s crew. I want to know where they move, who they talk to, and if they’ve been seen near the hospital.”
“Already on it,”
Paddy said. “But I have a feeling this is just the opening act. Vallone has never been subtle. We would be knee-deep in bodies already if he wanted to send a message. This feels more like reconnaissance. A test.”
Angelo ran a hand through his hair, muttering a curse. “And that means there’s more coming. We need to inform everyone about this so they’re prepared.”
He frowned.
I nodded. “That’s why Francesca’s security detail will be doubled, effective immediately. She may not like it, but I don’t care.”
Paddy chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, newlyweds. Ain’t love grand?”
Angelo ignored him, his gaze still sharp. “Does she know? That this could be Vallone?”
I hesitated for a moment before shaking my head. “Not yet. I’ll tell her when I have more concrete proof. There’s no sense in worrying her if we don’t have to.”
“She’s going to be pissed when she finds out you kept this from her.”
“Probably,”
I shrugged. “But she’ll be safe. That’s what matters.”
Angelo studied me for a long moment, then exhaled sharply. “Fine. But if Vallone even so much as breathes in her direction again, I want to be the one to take him down.”
A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. “Get in line. No calling dibs.”
The air in the room remained tense, yet we now had an understanding. Angelo might not have liked how things unfolded, but when it came to protecting Francesca, we were on the same side.
“That guy is an absolute menace. I saw a few of his people near one of my warehouses trying to set fire to it last week.”
He grinned. “Too bad they ended up getting barbequed instead. We need to finish gathering that intel.”
Angelo might be the most vicious of us. I had always thought Maxim was the most unhinged, but perhaps it was Angelo who harbored the deepest resentment — the one who had always raged against our life.
“I’ll have it tonight or tomorrow from my man.”
Angelo’s eyes sparkled with excitement, and Paddy, never one to linger on seriousness too long, clapped his hands together.
“Well, now that we’ve all agreed. Who’s ready for a drink?”
I ignored him, my mind already considering the next steps. Vallone had made a mistake.
And I was determined to make damn sure he paid for it.