Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
MAEVE
M aeve’s heart hammered against her ribs as she stepped into the warehouse, the cold air biting at her skin. The differences between being cougar and now being panther were subtle, yet profound. Even though both were predators, the panther was more aggressive, not as given to consider hiding versus attacking. She had always thought a lot of the other predatory cat shifters relied more on brawn than brains, but she found her panther every bit as intelligent.
Every nerve in her body was alive, her panther instincts prowling just beneath the surface as she scanned the cavernous space. Dim, flickering overhead lights cast shadows over the crates and metal beams, turning every corner into a potential threat. The warehouse smelled of damp concrete, oil, and the faint, acrid tang of sweat and adrenaline.
In order to let the younger Kelleher believe he was in control, Rory had agreed to allow Maeve to enter alone. What Tadhg didn’t know was that while she walked beside him, Rory and his men were readying themselves for the confrontation they knew was coming. Tadhg’s bulky frame was a silent threat, his movements deliberate and heavy. He might be a killer, but he wasn’t a true predator and did not move with any kind of grace. His men flanked them, their footsteps echoing his on the concrete floor.
Maeve forced herself to focus, to push aside the fear tightening her throat. Rory had prepared her for this. “Stay calm. Focus on your breathing. Don’t let them see your fear,” he’d said.
Rory’s voice in her memory steadied her. His words played in her mind like a mantra as she took a measured breath, drawing strength from the confidence he had instilled in her. This wasn’t the time to question his experience or falter. She needed to be strong for Sabella and for herself. Their lives could very well hang in the balance.
Tadhg’s eyes slid toward her, his lips pulling into something too cruel to be called a smile. “You’re braver than I expected, Maeve. Or perhaps just foolish. And it’s clear McMahon doesn’t value you. You may be his newest fuck toy, but that is all you are to him.”
“I’m neither,” Maeve replied, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. “I came to ensure Sabella is unharmed.”
Although she clenched her hands into tight fists at her sides, her words remained unwavering. Tadhg’s laugh was low and mocking, but she didn’t flinch. Rory’s lessons echoed again. Hold your ground. The power dynamic in situations like this wasn’t just about weapons; it was about control. And Tadhg wanted her scared.
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Ah, the loyalty of a friend,” Tadhg said, gesturing toward the far end of the warehouse. “Don’t worry. You’ll see her soon enough.”
Maeve followed his lead, her eyes darting over the scene. Near the center of the space, someone had stacked crates like a fortress, creating a makeshift meeting area. Sabella was there, bound to a chair, her head drooping forward. Relief washed over Maeve as she saw her chest rise and fall. Alive, at least. But her relief was short-lived as she took in the rest of the room.
Kelleher’s men stood in strategic positions, guns in hand, their expressions cold and focused. The tension in the air was suffocating and held the promise of violence. Maeve’s panther stirred, a low growl rumbling in her mind. The predator in her didn’t want to submit, but she knew better than to let it take over. This wasn’t a fight she could win alone.
Tadhg motioned for her to stop, and she obeyed, her muscles coiled tight as she faced him. “Now,” he said, his tone almost casual, “where is Rory McMahon?”
Maeve held his gaze, refusing to let the flicker of fear show. “He’s close,” she said simply.
The truth hung between them like a blade. Rory wouldn’t let her face this alone. He was far closer than Kelleher could imagine, and when he came, he would bring hell with him. The thought steadied her, even as Tadhg’s expression darkened.
“You think he’ll save you?” Tadhg stepped closer, his presence looming. “Rory can’t protect you from what’s coming.”
Maeve’s eyes narrowed, the sharp edge of her temper cutting through her fear. “The O’Neill left Rory in Galway for a simple reason: Rory doesn’t fail.”
The sound of engines outside cut Tadhg’s laugh short. Maeve’s heart leapt as she recognized the rumble of SUVs pulling up, the precise movements of Rory’s team unmistakable. As if sharpened to a blade's edge, the warehouse tension increased with a palpable shift in the air.
Tadhg gestured sharply to his men, who raised their weapons, their stances stiffening. “Well, it seems your savior has arrived.”
The doors burst open, and Rory strode in, flanked by his men. He moved with the quiet, controlled power that turned heads, his presence commanding the space without effort. His dark eyes locked on Maeve instantly, a fierce, protective heat blazing in their depths. She could feel the intensity of his focus, the unspoken promise in his gaze.
He would burn this place to the ground for her.
“Let her go, Tadhg,” Rory said, his voice low and lethal.
Tadhg stepped forward, his grin sharp as a blade. “Ah, Rory. You’re always so dramatic. We were just having a chat. No need for all this… hostility.”
“I have little time for your games,” Rory replied coldly. “Release Sabella, and maybe you’ll walk out of here.”
Tadhg’s laugh was harsh, grating against Maeve’s already frayed nerves. “Walk out? With what’s coming, Rory, no one walks away clean.”
As more figures emerged, the tension in the room ratcheted up. Recognizing them, Maeve felt a sudden sinking feeling in her stomach. Alexander’s men. Her brother stepped into view, his expression unreadable as he took in the standoff. His presence sent a ripple through the room, the alliances shifting and re-forming in real time.
“Alexander,” Rory said, his voice sharp. “What the hell is this?”
Alexander’s eyes flicked to Maeve, lingering on her before shifting back to Rory. “A balancing act,” he said simply. “Tadhg and I have… overlapping interests.”
Maeve’s pulse quickened as the pieces fell into place. Alexander wasn’t here to save her and he hadn’t shown up in Galway to mend the rift between them. Her mother’s warning had come too late. He was part of this, part of whatever deal her father had orchestrated.
“Overlapping interests?” Rory’s voice was razor-sharp. “If you’ve aligned yourself with him, Alexander, you’re signing your death warrant.”
Alexander shrugged, his calm demeanor infuriating. “And yet, here we all are.”
The room teetered on the edge of violence—the strain unbearable. Rory’s men shifted subtly, their movements imperceptible to anyone not looking for them. The Kellehers mirrored the action, their hands tightening on their weapons. Maeve’s breath caught as the first shot rang out, the deafening crack shattering the fragile standoff. It was as if hellfire erupted.
Rory moved like a predator unleashed, his presence an anchor in the cacophony of violence as he fought his way toward Maeve. Bullets flew, shouts and curses mingling with the sound of gunfire. Her instincts took over as she scrambled for cover, finding the crate closest to Sabella. Her heart pounded as the cacophony surrounded her, but her focus remained sharp.
Stay calm. Find Rory.
Through the haze of the fight, she spotted him, his movements lethal and precise as he tore through the opposition. His focus was unshakable, his determination a force of nature. Maeve felt a surge of fierce pride and something deeper, something primal, as she watched him.
He was coming for her.
Tadhg loomed suddenly, grabbing her arm and yanking her from behind the crate. “You’re coming with me,” he snarled, dragging her toward the back exit. Maeve twisted, her panther trying to surge to the surface as she fought against his grip.
Rory’s voice cut through the gunfire like a blade. “Maeve!”
She turned, her gaze locking with his as he closed the distance between them. Tadhg spun, pulling her in front of him as a shield, his gun pressing against her side.
“Stay back, McMahon,” Tadhg growled. “Unless you want her blood on your hands.”
Maeve’s pulse thundered, but she didn’t flinch. Rory’s eyes met hers, dark and blazing, and she saw the unspoken message there.
Trust me.
She felt Tadhg jerk and then his grip slackened as he twisted away from her, wounded. She glanced up and saw one of Rory’s men in the rafter, taking deadly aim at Kelleher’s men. Rory’s eyes caught hers for a moment, ensuring she was safe, before turning back to the battle at hand. The time for reunions would come later.
He was her anchor, her protector. And in that moment, she knew she was exactly where she belonged.
Gunfire erupted around them again, a deafening roar that reverberated through the warehouse. The sharp, acrid scent of gunpowder filled the air, mingling with the shouts and grunts of men locked in combat. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she ducked behind a stack of crates, her fingers trembling as they gripped the edge of the crate.
But then her gaze locked onto another figure across the room. Alexander.
Her brother stood near the warehouse’s back wall, his posture tense, a gun in his hand. His dark hair was disheveled, his face shadowed by the dim light, but there was no mistaking the storm in his eyes. When his gaze found hers, time seemed to freeze.
Maeve sucked in a sharp breath. His expression was a battlefield of emotions: love, guilt, anger, and something deeper that she couldn’t quite name. Alexander had always been her protector, the one constant in her chaotic childhood. But now, his choices—the alliances he’d forged in their father’s name—clouded that connection.
“Maeve,” he said, his voice low but audible even over the din. He took a step forward, his weapon lowering slightly.
“Alexander,” she replied, her voice trembling but firm. She stepped out from behind the crates, ignoring the surge of adrenaline screaming for her to stay hidden. She moved to Alexander. If there was a chance she could save him—not just from this gunfight, but from their father—she knew she had to try. She knew her love and loyalty lay with Rory, but she couldn’t just abandon Alexander. The strain between them was almost unbearable, a taut thread that threatened to snap at any moment.
As she reached him, his jaw tightened. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Nor should you,” Maeve declared, her voice a sharp knife through the turmoil. “You don’t have to do this, Alexander, you are not obligated to take part in his plans. You can walk away.”
He shook his head, his expression hardening. “It’s not that simple. You know that.”
“Because of him?” Maeve pressed, taking another step closer. “Because of what he’s done to us? Don’t let him win, Alexander. Don’t let him twist you into something you’re not.”
Alexander’s grip on his gun tightened, his knuckles white. The flicker of pain in his eyes was unmistakable, a crack in the armor he wore so carefully. “You don’t understand. This is the only way to survive.”
“No,” Maeve said fiercely. “This isn’t survival. This is surrender. You’re letting him control you, just like he controlled Mom. Just like he tried to control me.”
The mention of their mother hit its mark. Alexander flinched, the ghost of old wounds flashing across his face. Maeve pressed on, her voice softening but losing none of its intensity.
“We deserve better than this, Alexander. We deserve freedom. Don’t you want that? Don’t you want to be free of him?”
He stared at her, his chest rising and falling as if the weight of her words was physically pressing against him. The gun in his hand wavered, lowering inch by inch as the conflict in his gaze deepened. For a moment, it seemed like the surrounding violence had faded, the world narrowing to just the two of them.
“I don’t know how,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Maeve took another step, closing the distance between them. “You do,” she said. “You’ve always known. You’ve always been stronger than me, Alexander. You don’t need him. You never did.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm. “Please. Don’t do this. Don’t let him destroy what’s left of us.”
Alexander’s eyes met hers, and something shifted. The walls he’d built around himself began to crumble, the raw vulnerability beneath them shining through. Slowly, he let the gun slip from his hand. The metallic clatter as it hit the ground was almost drowned out by the continuing bedlam that surrounded them.
“I can’t keep doing this,” he said, his voice breaking. “I won’t.”
Maeve’s breath caught, relief and heartbreak tangling in her chest. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a fierce embrace. For a moment, he hesitated, but then his arms came around her, holding her tightly as if she was the only thing keeping him anchored.
“You’re not alone,” she whispered. “We’ll figure it out. I promise.”