Chapter 14
Aidan
My hand rests on the gun at my back under my coat as I circle the chapel. I’m not taking any chances of this going sideways. Not now. Not after everything. Dervla is taking control of this university, if I have to die to accomplish it.
Cormac is around the other side. Declan is at the doors.
Séamus’ men seem to have stationed themselves out of sight, which is fine.
They can stay out of sight. I want to be visible.
I want every fucker to know I’m here and I’m not letting anyone lay a fucking finger on her.
Enough is enough with this bullshit. Trying to be someone I’m not, isn’t working out for me.
Touch what’s mine, you end up in the ground. Simple as.
“Speak of the devil,” I mutter as I see Troy striding across the campus, head down against the rain.
He must feel my gaze on him because he stops and looks up. Only a slight pause before he continues on his way.
I move. I owe him a fucked up hand if nothing else, and today I’m getting that vengeance for Dervla.
I cut across the wet grass and intercept him before he reaches the path to the chapel.
“Troy.”
He stops three feet from me, rain beading on his dark jacket, expression slipping into that smug little academy mask he wears when he thinks he’s untouchable. “O’Connell.”
“You’ve been lurking outside Dervla’s house.”
His brow lifts. “And that’s a crime now?”
“Depends on what mood I’m in. Unlucky for you, I’m cold, wet and pissed off.”
He gives a short laugh, but it dies quickly when I don’t react.
For a second, we just stand there with the rain ticking off stone and leaves and chapel glass behind us. He looks past me, towards the doors.
“You’re not invited,” I say.
“I’m not here for you.”
“No shit.”
He tips his head. “I’m here because there’s a lot happening, and some of us have enough sense to realise being outside the room when power shifts is how you end up under it.”
I step closer. “You crushed her hand.”
His eyes sharpen. “She attacked me first.”
“No, she didn’t.” I hit him.
Not a warning. Not a shove. My fist lands hard across his jaw and sends him sideways into the wet grass. He swears and tries to scramble up, but I’m on him before he can get his footing.
He swings wild. I catch his wrist, drive my knee into his stomach, and he folds with a choking grunt that does wonders for my mood. I shove him onto his back and plant my boot on his chest.
“Try that again,” I say, “and I’ll stamp until your ribs give out.”
His face twists, rain running over his split lip. “You’re fucking insane.”
“Probably.” I crouch and fist his jacket, hauling him up enough that his head almost knocks against mine. “Why were you outside her house?”
He laughs once, breathless and stupid. “You think I’m the biggest problem she has?”
“No. I think you’re the one I can currently reach.”
That wipes some of the attitude off him.
Troy spits blood into the grass. “You’re all going to get her killed.”
That gets my full attention in a very specific way. I tighten my hold on his jacket. “Explain that sentence carefully.”
He glances towards the chapel again. Not subtle. Not clever either.
“Eyes here, you smug little prick.”
“I’m not here to hurt her.”
“Bad opening line,” I say.
“I’m here because Murphy is moving for himself.”
I go very still.
Behind us, the chapel looms dark and old in the rain, and every instinct I have turns sharp enough to cut.
“Murphy,” I repeat. “Ronan Murphy.”
Troy swallows, throat working. “Yeah.”
“How do you know that?”
He gives me a look full of hatred with a good old dose of fear blended in. “Because I was asked to pass a message.”
“To Dervla?”
“Yes.”
“From Murphy.”
He hesitates, and I hit him again. Short. Brutal. Enough to bounce his head off the sodden ground.
“Fuck!” he spits.
“You don’t get to pause like that with me. Try again.”
“No, not Murphy. Those working against him. All of them. The entire Board.”
“And you just decided to intervene out of the goodness of your heart? Spare me, Troy. Give me something actionable before I put a bullet in your brain and call this a good day.”
“Romans,” he croaks when I pull my gun out and press it to his forehead.
“What about them?”
“They aren’t looking to negotiate. This is going to end badly.”
“Two things. How do you know and why do you care?”
“My dad knows shit, and if this all goes to hell, where do you think that leaves us? The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that bullshit.”
I stare at him for one beat too long.
Not because I don’t believe him.
Because I do.
“Your dad knows shit,” I repeat. “Very informative.”
“He heard Murphy’s been trying to build his own bloc since last term. Quietly. Admin staff. Bursar links. Favours owed. He thought he could wait and see who won before picking a side.”
“And now?”
“Now there isn’t going to be a side to pick if the Romans decide the Board is a liability.”
My jaw tightens. “What message were you meant to pass?”
His eyes flick to the gun, then back to me. “That Murphy won’t walk into that meeting empty-handed.”
My stomach goes cold in a clean, immediate way.
“Armed?”
“I don’t know.”
I push the barrel harder into his forehead. “Wrong answer.”
“I don’t know,” he snaps, panic cracking through the academy smugness. “I swear. I was told he had insurance. That if Dervla tried to force declarations, he’d make sure the room broke before it settled. That is in no one’s interest except the Romans.”
Dervla knows what she’s doing. She’s not about to let any of them walk out of there. If I know my girl, she will be gunning for Ronan first and foremost. I have two options: trust her to get this done, or interrupt her and distract her with information that may or may not be fully accurate.
“You’re not going in there. Neither am I. Dervla has her plans. She will see them through regardless.”
“That’s a mistake,” he hisses.
“No, the only mistake I made was waiting to do this out of some sort of sense of conscience that I don’t have.” I grab his wrist and pin it to the grass. Pressing the gun to the middle of his palm, I pull the trigger.
He grunts, louder than I’d’ve liked, shock on his face that makes me smile.
“Touch her again, and the other hand is next. Hurt her again, and they won’t find your body. Got it?”
“You psychotic cunt,” he spits.
I look at him for a long second. “And yet you still thought coming near her was a good idea.”
He curls over his hand with a broken sound caught behind his teeth. Blood threads through the wet grass. I step back and watch him for one second more, making sure the lesson sticks.
“Get off campus,” I tell him. “If I see you near her again today, I’ll finish the job.”
He glares at me with pure hatred, but hatred is cheap. Fear is what matters. He staggers to his feet, clutching his ruined hand to his chest, and backs away before turning and half-running towards the lower path.
I watch until he disappears past the trees.
Then I turn back to the chapel.
The rain has thickened. Grey light. Wet stone.
I move back into position, circling the chapel, knowing what I know, but also knowing Dervla can handle this.