Chapter 24
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
The bastards think they're untouchable.
I watch Senator Morrison adjust his tie through the two-way glass, his smugness radiating across the conference room. Twenty years of corruption, and he sits there like he owns the world. Maybe he did—until today.
"Ready to burn it all down?" Conall asks, his breath warm against my ear.
Heat spreads through me. Even now, with everything on the line, his voice makes my thighs clench. I turn to face him, noting how his shirt pulls across his chest, how his eyes burn with the same hunger I feel.
"I've been ready my whole life," I say, letting my fingers trail down his arm. "The question is whether you can handle watching me destroy them."
His eyes darken. "Try me."
We enter the conference room together, and I feel the shift immediately. These men built their careers on intimidation, but they've never faced a Kavanagh woman with nothing to lose.
"Gentlemen." I don't sit. "We need to discuss your retirement."
Judge O'Malley laughs—actually laughs. "Little girl, you don't know who you're fucking with."
I drop the first photograph on the table. Him, taking an envelope from Vincent Collins outside the courthouse. "March 15th, 2018. Fifty grand to dismiss charges against Danny Moretti."
The laughter dies.
"Councilman Bradley." Another photo lands. "Your offshore accounts in the Caymans. Very creative money laundering through construction contracts."
Bradley's face goes gray. "Those are private?—"
"Senator Morrison." The final image makes him flinch. "Your weekend trips to Vermont. Interesting what people do when they think no one's watching."
Conall moves behind my chair, his presence like a loaded gun. These men can feel the danger rolling off him.
"What the fuck do you want?" Morrison snarls, dropping his politician mask.
"Everything." I lean forward, letting them see the predator in my eyes. "Your resignations. Your cooperation. Your heads on a platter for the FBI."
"You're out of your goddamn mind," O'Malley spits. "We'll destroy you. Your whole family."
"With what? Your little conspiracy is dead. Collins sang like a bird before we put him down." I smile, cold as winter. "He gave us everything. Names, dates, bank accounts. Even the location of Detective Kane's real killer."
The temperature in the room drops.
"That's right. We know who really murdered my biological father. And it wasn't the Morettis like you claimed." I stand, walking around the table. "It was you, Senator. Your own hands."
Morrison's composure cracks. "You can't prove?—"
"Body cam footage from your security detail. Amazing what money can buy, isn't it?" I stop behind his chair. "Twenty-three minutes. That's how long you tortured him before putting a bullet in his brain."
Conall's jaw ticks. Even he didn't know this detail. The rage building in his eyes makes my pulse race.
"So here's what happens," I continue, my voice quiet. "You resign. Tonight. All of you. Then you disappear."
"And if we refuse?" Bradley asks.
"Then I release everything to the media. Your families find out exactly what kind of monsters they've been living with." I place my hands on the table, leaning in. "Your wife, Senator. Your grandchildren, Judge. They'll know everything."
The silence stretches until Morrison breaks. "What about federal prosecution?"
"That depends on how cooperative you are." I straighten. "Full confessions. Every detail. Every crime. Every body."
"How many?" O'Malley whispers.
"Seventeen. Including three cops and a prosecutor." The number hangs in the air. "My father was just the last."
Conall's hand finds my lower back, his touch burning through silk. These men destroyed everything, but somehow led me to him. To this moment. To power I never knew I wanted.
"I need guarantees," Morrison says.
"You need to pray I don't change my mind and kill you myself." I gather the photos. "You have one hour. Resignation letters on my desk, or your families get a very interesting package."
The hospital elevator feels smaller with Conall pressed against me. We just left three broken men writing their political obituaries, and the adrenaline has nowhere to go.
"That was..." he starts.
"Fucking incredible," I finish, then grab his shirt, pulling him down.
He kisses me like he's starving, all teeth and tongue and desperate need. My back hits the elevator wall as his hands grip my waist, lifting me until my legs wrap around him.
"God, Saoirse," he groans against my throat. "Watching you destroy them?—"
The elevator dings. Third floor.
We break apart, breathing hard. My lipstick is smeared across his mouth, his hair messed from my fingers. We look exactly like what we are—two people barely holding back from fucking in a hospital elevator.
"Later," I promise, my voice rough.
"Count on it."
Tiernan looks smaller in the hospital bed, but his eyes still burn with Kavanagh fire. Machines beep around him, marking time he doesn't have much left of.
"It's done," I tell him, taking his hand. "The corruption network is finished. Morrison confessed to killing Detective Kane."
His grip tightens. "Your... real father."
"You're my real father." I sit on the bed's edge. "Blood doesn't make family. You taught me that."
"Proud of you." The words come easier now, his speech improving daily. "My daughter. My heir."
Conall moves to stand beside me, his hand settling on my shoulder. Tiernan's gaze shifts between us, and something like approval crosses his face.
"Good choice," he says to me. "Strong man. Equal."
"More than equal," I correct. "Partner."
"The old ways die with me," Tiernan continues, his voice growing stronger. "You build something better. Something that lasts."
"We will." I squeeze his hand. "Together."
My office door closes with a soft click. The day's tension crashes over me like a wave. Three corrupt officials destroyed. A twenty-year conspiracy exposed. My biological father's murder solved.
And Conall watching me like he wants to devour me whole.
"Come here," I command, sinking into the leather chair behind my desk.
He moves across the room, all restrained power and barely contained desire. When he reaches me, I stand, backing him against the desk.
"My turn to be in charge," I whisper, my hands working his belt.
His breath hisses out. "Saoirse?—"
"You liked watching me take control today." I push his jacket off his shoulders. "Now I'm taking control of you."
My fingers make quick work of his shirt buttons, revealing the chest I've mapped with my tongue. Scars from old fights, muscle earned through years of violence and protection.
"Tell me what you want," I breathe against his skin.
"You. Always you." His hands fist in my hair as I kiss my way down his chest. "My woman. My partner. My fucking everything."
I drop to my knees, looking up at him through my lashes. "Then take what's yours."
I free him from his pants, wrapping my lips around the head of his cock. He's already hard, already leaking for me. The taste of him on my tongue makes me moan around his length.
"Fuck, Saoirse," he groans, his hands tangling in my hair as I take him deeper.
I work him with my mouth, using my tongue the way I know drives him insane. His hips jerk forward, pushing deeper down my throat. I let him, loving the way he loses control when I'm on my knees for him.
"Stop," he gasps, pulling me up by my hair. "I need to be inside you. Now."
He spins me around, bending me over the desk. Papers scatter as he yanks my skirt up, his fingers finding the edge of my stockings. I'm not wearing anything underneath—haven't been all day, knowing this moment would come.
"Christ, you're soaked," he growls, his fingers sliding through my wetness.
"For you. Only ever for you."
He pushes two fingers inside me, making me cry out. I'm already close, wound tight from watching him watch me destroy our enemies.
"Please," I beg, pushing back against his hand.
He withdraws his fingers and replaces them with the head of his cock, teasing my entrance. "Beg me properly."
"Fuck me, Conall. Hard. Make me yours again."
He slams into me with one brutal thrust, and we both cry out. This is what we are—raw need and brutal honesty, power and submission dancing together until we can't tell where one ends and the other begins.
"Mine," he pounds into me, each word punctuated by another thrust that makes the desk shake. "My woman. My equal. My future."
"Yours," I gasp, my fingers gripping the edge of the desk as he fucks me relentlessly. "All of it. Everything."
His hand slides around to find my clit, rubbing circles that make me see stars. I'm so close, teetering on the edge of an orgasm that will shatter me completely.
"Come for me," he commands, his voice rough with his own approaching climax. "Come on my cock like the good girl you are."
The words send me over. I scream his name as I come, my body clenching around him so hard he can barely move. He follows seconds later, spilling himself deep inside me with a groan that comes from his soul.
We stay connected, breathing hard against each other as reality slowly returns. Outside the windows, Boston glitters in the darkness—a city we're about to reshape, an empire we're building together.
"What happens now?" I ask, still bent over the desk with him pressed against my back.
"Now we rule." His lips brush my neck. "Together."
"And if someone challenges us?"
His laugh is dark and dangerous. "Then we remind them why the Kavanagh name means fear."
I turn in his arms, meeting his eyes. "I love you."
"And I love you." He cups my face with surprisingly gentle hands. "My partner in everything."
The intercom buzzes. "Ms. Kavanagh? The resignation letters just arrived."
"Good." I straighten my clothes, switching back to business mode. "File them. And call the FBI. It's time to make some deals."
As Conall adjusts his tie, I catch our reflection in the office window. We look like what we are—two people who've claimed their throne and will defend it with everything they have.
The old empire is dead. Long live the new one.
And anyone who tries to take it from us will learn exactly what happens when you threaten a Kavanagh woman and the man she loves.
Game over.
We win.