Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
DARAGH
T he estate’s war room was a converted library, its bookshelves lined with a mixture of old-world literature and more practical reading—military strategy, legal codes, and the occasional book on tracking and hunting. The long mahogany table in the center of the room was scattered with maps, schematics, and intelligence reports. A large screen on the far wall displayed an encrypted feed from Con’s sources, the MI5 insignia glaring like a warning neither he nor the O’Neills could afford to ignore.
Daragh leaned against the edge of the table, arms crossed over his chest, listening as Finn finished relaying the latest intel.
"MI5’s officially moved beyond observation," Finn said, his fingers tapping on the file in front of him. "They’re coordinating with Interpol now, tracking every financial move tied to Sebastian. He’s bleeding money trying to cover his tracks, but it won’t last forever. He’s getting desperate."
Con had joined them, leaving an angry Katie back at their island fortress. He stood across from Daragh, his expression unreadable, though his gaze flicked toward the screen with a contemplative gleam. "Desperate men make mistakes," he murmured, then met Daragh’s eyes. "And MI5 being in this deep? That complicates things. We need to assume they’re watching us just as closely as they’re watching Wolfe."
Daragh grunted. "They’ve been watching us since the day we were born. This is just another excuse to sink their teeth in."
Finn sighed, dragging a hand through his dark hair. "Aye, but they’re not usually this aggressive. The bounty on your head was one thing, but now that Siobhan’s got a price on hers, we can assume MI5 sees an opportunity. They wouldn’t risk direct action against us, but if they can control who takes her, they can make a deal with whatever bastard drags her back to London in chains."
Daragh’s hands clenched into fists. The thought of Siobhan being used as some pawn for MI5’s leverage made his blood run hot, his panther stirring beneath the surface, wanting blood.
"That won’t happen," he growled.
Con nodded, as if Daragh’s fury was a given. "Agreed. But we have to be smart about this." He motioned toward the screen, where a dossier of Sebastian Wolfe was displayed, his cold blue eyes staring out of the digital profile like a challenge. "Wolfe’s been careful, but he’s running out of safe houses, out of allies. We use that against him. Make him think he’s still the one in control."
Daragh arched an eyebrow. "And how do you propose we do that?"
"Callum has some interesting insights into Wolfe’s movements," Con said, flipping open another file. "Callum’s been tracking financial transactions in Dublin, and Rory has been keeping his ear to the ground from Galway about the European syndicates. Sebastian’s been reaching out to certain factions for help—Russian Bratva, a few rogue MI5 handlers, even some disgraced mercenaries who’d love a payday."
Daragh’s eyes narrowed. "If he’s asking for outside help, that means he’s lost confidence in his own resources."
Finn nodded. "After the spectacular failure we handed that first group, others are backing away. No doubt waiting to see what happens…”
“Hoping we’ll weaken each other enough so someone new can take over,” said Daragh. He looked to Con to say something more.
Con waved him off. “Don’t. I’d have done the same if it had been Katy. I will never tell one of my people that he doesn’t start a war over a fated mate.” Con tapped the file again. "Callum’s people intercepted communication between one of Wolfe’s remaining lieutenants and an arms dealer in Belfast. He’s stockpiling weapons, possibly preparing for an all-out assault. If we let him think we don’t know, we can use that to our advantage."
Daragh rolled his shoulders, considering the possibilities. They needed to hit Sebastian on multiple fronts—financially, physically, and strategically. He needed to feel cornered, to think he was making the ultimate move, only to realize too late that the trap had already been sprung.
"And what about MI5?" Daragh asked. "They won’t just stand by and let us take him out. They want him alive."
Con’s lips curled slightly. "They do. But they want Siobhan more. If we feed them enough misinformation, they’ll focus their resources on her instead of interfering with us. Wolfe’s already on borrowed time. We just have to make sure he never gets the chance to collect on his bounty before we end him."
Daragh’s gut twisted at the thought of MI5 getting their hands on Siobhan. She had run to them once, thinking they would protect her, but she had learned the truth the hard way. They weren’t her saviors. They were just another form of prison.
He wouldn’t let them take her. He wouldn’t let anyone take her.
Finn cleared his throat. "We have two choices: fool Wolfe into making a move first, or take the fight straight to him."
Daragh’s fingers drummed against the table as he considered their next step. If they went after Sebastian directly, it would be a war zone. Civilians could get caught in the crossfire, and MI5 would be all over them. But if they made Wolfe desperate enough, he’d walk straight into their hands.
"He still thinks he’s calling the shots," Daragh said slowly. "We let him believe that. We let him think we’re scrambling, on the defensive. Meanwhile, we cut off his options, one by one, until he has no choice but to come for her himself."
Finn’s grin was sharp. "And when he does?"
Daragh’s own smile was lethal. "We finish this."
Con nodded. "Then we start setting the stage now. Callum will continue feeding false intel to Wolfe’s people, keeping him paranoid. Finn, I want you coordinating with our allies in Belfast—if we can intercept those arms deals even better. Daragh, you focus on securing Siobhan."
Daragh’s jaw tightened. "She doesn’t like being told what to do."
Con’s gaze was knowing as he laughed. "Been there. Done that. The trick is, you don’t tell her. Just make sure she never has a reason to run."
Daragh clenched his fists. Siobhan could fight him on this all she wanted, but she wasn’t going anywhere.
Con flipped the folder shut. "We move fast, we move quiet, and when the time comes, we strike hard."
Daragh pushed off the table, already thinking ahead. "I’ll handle Siobhan. Make sure she understands this isn’t a negotiation."
Finn snorted. "Good luck with that."
Daragh ignored him. He had already accepted that Siobhan would fight him every step of the way. But she had surrendered to him last night, not just in bed, but in ways she probably didn’t even realize yet.
And if Sebastian Wolfe thought he could still claim her? Daragh would make sure the bastard didn’t live long enough to regret his mistake.
The moment Daragh stepped into the bedroom, he knew Siobhan was already on the offensive. She stood by the open window; the moonlight casting a silver glow over her skin, her arms crossed, her entire posture rigid with defiance. The robe she had hastily wrapped around herself after their last confrontation was tied tightly at her waist, but it did nothing to hide the fire in her eyes.
She was furious. Too bad.
It didn’t change a damn thing.
"You need to listen to me, kitten," he said, his voice steady but firm as he shut the door behind him. "You’re not stepping foot outside this estate until Wolfe is dead."
Her hands clenched against her arms. "So I’m just supposed to sit here and let you make all the decisions for me?"
"Yes."
Her breath hitched, and for a second, he thought she might launch herself at him claws first.
"That’s not how this works, Daragh," she hissed. "You don’t get to lock me away like some… some…"
"Mine," he cut in, taking a slow step toward her. "I get to lock you away because you are mine. My wife. My mate. And I won’t let you get yourself killed because you can’t stand not being in control for five damn minutes."
Siobhan’s nails dug into her arms, but she didn’t back away as he moved closer. "You think I don’t know how to handle myself?"
"You think I give a damn if you do?" His voice was ice, but the heat inside him was something far more dangerous. "I know you can fight. I know you can shoot. That’s not the problem. The problem is you think that makes you untouchable. That makes you reckless. And reckless gets you killed."
She swallowed, the words hitting something deep inside her, but her chin lifted stubbornly. "So I’m just supposed to stay here while you and your men do all the work? While MI5 and Sebastian and whatever other monsters are out there hunt me like an animal?"
Daragh’s eyes darkened. "No one is hunting you, Siobhan."
She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "There’s a two-million-dollar bounty on my head, Daragh. That’s a lot of incentive for people to start looking."
His teeth clenched as he reached out, gripping her jaw, forcing her gaze to stay on him. "Let them come," he growled. "Let every greedy bastard in Europe try their luck. They won’t get within a mile of you before they’re in the ground."
Siobhan’s breath quickened, her pupils dilating as his dominance rolled over her. For a moment, she didn’t speak. Then she whispered, "You can’t protect me from everything."
Daragh’s grip tightened. "Watch me."
Her lips parted, her breath shallow, and for a second, he thought she might give in. That she might let him have this fight. Then he saw it. The flicker of something behind her eyes. The calculation. The moment she decided to continue arguing.
Daragh cursed under his breath and released her, stepping back before he did something he’d regret. "Go to bed, Siobhan."
Her jaw locked, but she didn’t push again. Not yet. She thought she was being clever. Thought she could wait him out, but Daragh had played this game too many times.
SIOBHAN
The house was quiet, just as she had planned. Siobhan slipped from the bedroom, her heartbeat steady, her movements silent as she made her way down the corridor. Daragh thought he could keep her locked away like a possession, but she wasn’t the type to sit and wait for someone else to dictate her fate.
She needed answers, and she wasn’t going to find them trapped behind O’Neill walls.
She had been careful. Had waited long enough for Daragh to believe she had finally given in. She knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t relax, but he would focus on other things—on his meetings, on planning his war.
He wouldn’t expect her to do something he thought would be foolish, which was exactly why it would work. There was information only she could get, and she couldn’t get it from Daragh’s bed.
The guards were in their usual posts, but she had learned the shifts, watched their patterns. She had memorized the routes of patrols, the placement of security cameras, every possible escape path. When she finally slipped past the outer gate, heart pounding, she felt the first real rush of control she’d had since Daragh had come charging into her life.
Daragh didn’t own her. Not in this. At least, not in the way he thought.
Sebastian had taught her one thing—never trust a man who thought he knew what was best for her. She wasn’t about to make that mistake twice.
She found one of the electric SUVs Daragh had hidden just outside the walls of the magnificent estate. Taking one, she headed back into the city. Once inside the city, she ditched the SUV—she was certain it had a GPS tracker, but she’d needed to make the trip from the estate to the city as quickly as possible.
The streets of Dublin were darker than she remembered, filled with the kind of whispers that sent shivers up her spine. She moved fast, keeping to the alleyways, her hood up, her hands clenched at her sides.
She had a contact, who she believed could give her vital information—information that could not be found anywhere else. Someone she had worked with at MI5 before things had gone south. If anyone could tell her what they were planning, it was him. Before leaving the estate, she used a burner phone and called her contact. He had tried to refuse her, tried to put her off, but she’d been adamant. He had information she needed, and he owed her. He finally agreed, but only if she would meet in person at the pub they had used for clandestine meetings in the past.
When she entered, she pushed back the hood and saw that few people were there; spilled beer and cigarette smoke clung to the wooden walls. She moved toward the back, scanning the room. It was empty—too empty.
Her gut twisted. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
A shadow moved to her left. Then another. The trap snapped shut.
"Hello, darling," a familiar voice drawled. Siobhan’s blood ran cold. Sebastian stepped from the shadows, his lips curled into something smug, his blue eyes gleaming with triumph.
"Did you really think I wouldn’t be watching for you?" he murmured, tilting his head. "That I wouldn’t know the moment you tried to run?"
Siobhan’s fingers twitched toward the knife she had tucked beneath her sleeve, but Sebastian’s men were already moving. The gun was in her face before she had the chance to fight.
Sebastian tsked, stepping closer. "Now, now, love. Let’s not be hasty. Wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty face of yours before Daragh has a chance to say goodbye."
Siobhan clenched her jaw, her mind racing. She had been stupid. She had walked right into it, and unless she got very lucky, she was going to pay the price.
She turned to her contact—the man who had betrayed her. “No matter what else happens or who gets killed, I made sure Daragh knew it was you. There’s not a rock big enough or a hole deep enough that you can hide from him. He will kill you and not just with a bullet between the eyes.”
Sebastian leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "Did you really think you could escape me?"
Siobhan’s stomach twisted, bile rising in her throat. “Not really, but then I’m not the one you should be worried about.”
Sebastian shook his head. “You don’t really think Daragh O’Neill would settle for a disinherited and tarnished heiress, did you?”
“I do, and I have the claiming bite to prove it. You may kill me…” She was now speaking more to his men than to Sebastian. “But Daragh will come for you—all of you, and he’ll have the Devil of Galway at his back. Make no mistake, the O’Neills will come for you. When Daragh finds out what has happened, he will rain hellfire down on all of your heads, and Con O’Neill will have the matches.”