Chapter 18
Eighteen
Beibhinn
The Present
The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fibre of my frame.
—Edgar Allan Poe
As I stare down at the captured memory clutched in my hand, my heart rate picks up pace, hammering wildly against my ribcage. There’s a war raging inside me, and suddenly, I’m overcome with this eerie sense of calm. Then, as if someone flicks a switch, every emotion I’ve felt over the last few days turns off. My grief fades into the background as fiendish malevolence takes the wheel.
I draw in a slow steady breath, and my body succumbs to the new arrival. I welcome it, allowing the hate to seep into my veins. Adrenaline pumps through every organ, building with every passing second, until all I can taste on my tongue is the bittersweet notes of revenge.
I drop the Polaroid of Liam and me onto the countertop, reaching boiling point. Vengeance washes through me with the force of a tsunami, reminding me who the fuck I am.
I am Beibhinn Devereux. I take no shit, give zero fucks, and I’m about to wreak havoc.
Someone—most likely my father—put a hit out on my brother, and I intend to find out why. There’s a lesson to be taught, and fortunately, I’m qualified to teach it. Oliver Devereux has spent years refusing to see what’s been in front of him all along. I’m not his doting daughter. I’m his penance. The queen he refused to see. I may have half his DNA flowing through my veins, but I am undoubtedly my mother’s daughter. It’s said that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and I’m ready to unleash the monster his betrayal created. Love runs deep, but my fury is an untamed beast with a weapon carved from the sharpened edges of my wrath.
Turning towards the back door that leads out onto the pathway to the main house, my gaze snags on Liam’s metal baseball bat resting inside the umbrella stand. It’s the same bat he had the night I found him towering over a battered Rohan—the night Gabriel dumped our cousin on our doorstep, barely breathing.
Before I can process my next move, my feet carry me towards it. My fingers curl around the handle of the bat, and I pull it out and raise it to my shoulder before reaching for the door-knob. When my reflection catches in the window, a hellacious smile twists my lips.
The first thing I notice is the white tank top and black boy shorts Cadden made me change into before he tucked me into bed after I broke into his arms. Then my eyes fall to the bat perched on my shoulder, swiftly followed by a wild head of untamed white-blonde hair. Taking a closer look, my gaze sweeps over the makeup I never took off after Liam’s funeral. Black mascara stains my cheeks and what’s left of my smudged signature red lip, making me look certifiable, but honestly, I don’t care. Madness never bothered me, weakness did.
Forgoing my shoes I swing the door open and allow the fiery rage within me to lead the way. Every step I take is fuelled by the heavy weight of my brother’s loss while the burning need for justice propels me forward with single-minded determination. With one destination in sight, I eat up the space between me and the main house, ignoring the haunting darkness that cloaks Devereux Manor. Once inside, I flick on the lights with the tip of the bat, then continue up the stairs until I’m standing outside my father’s home office.
I’m terrified of what I might find, but I’m desperate for answers. On a heavy exhale, I enter my father’s sanctuary. As soon as I push through the door and turn on the light, I’m overcome by the room that holds far too many—what I once thought of as precious—childhood memories. Only now, they’re replaced by the tainted betrayal of blood-stained grief.
Liam and I had spent many days over the course of our childhood in here, admiring a man who didn’t deserve an ounce of the worship we gave him. For so long, we put him on a pedestal, viewing him as a god amongst men. For years, I dedicated so much energy to proving I was just as worthy as my brother was. I’d spent hours, days, fucking months, learning everything there was to know about becoming a fearless leader, only to be sold off for the price of marriage. I should have known Oliver Devereux never loved his children. We were pawns in his game, a guarantee for a better position within the syndicate rankings. He wore a mask, and he wore it well, fooling everyone around him, including his wife.
Striding into the room, I grip the baseball bat tightly. “Hey, Alexa!” I activate the surround sound and wait for the blue light to show she’s listening. “Play ‘Cry Me A River’ by Tommee Profitt and Nicole Serrano. Full volume.” The piano keys ring through the overhead speakers as I survey the space and step further into the room. I take in every detail, noting every valuable ornament.
Finally, the booming bass kicks in, mirroring the pounding in my chest as I round my father’s desk. Bat still slung over my shoulder, I rifle through his belongings, searching through every drawer for anything I can find that puts him in the line of fire. When I come up empty, my anger boils over, and the next thing I know, I’m swinging blind. With each strike, I unleash a fury of pent-up emotions. The sound of destruction fills the room, a symphony of shattered glass and splintering wood that echoes my inner turmoil. Nothing is safe as I clear off each shelf with every swing of the bat—the desktop, the books, the crystal glasses, and the trophies from my childhood. I destroy it all, and with each blow, a small fragment of relief washes over me, a brief respite from the weight of my crippling loss.
Next, I move to the artwork on the far wall. Pulling back, I slam the barrel of the bat through the canvas. Tears mingle with sweat as I wield the bat with a ferocity that matches the storm raging inside me. I don’t let up until I tear a hole in the priceless collector’s piece.
The carnage around me mirrors the chaos in my soul, providing a temporary outlet for the overwhelming pain I’m carrying. Once my father’s possessions are thoroughly smashed to pieces, I sink to my knees and drop my chin to my chest. The baseball bat slips from my grasp, tumbling to the ground with a ping. Exhaustion coils my limbs, but I feel strangely liberated as I survey the wreckage before me with a mix of emotions churning in my chest. This path of vengeance will not bring Liam back, but at least it offers a semblance of justice in a world that had been cruel to us both.
My chest heaves with rapid breaths as I lift my gaze. The built-in floor-to-ceiling shelf unit captures my attention—or more importantly, the light reflecting through a sliver of an opening I would’ve never known was there.
Rising to my feet, I move towards the shelf and then run my hand along the edge before dragging it toward me. With a flick of my wrist, I reveal a secret room filled with monitors. Inching forward, my eyes widen when I see what’s playing across each screen. There’s camera footage covering every area of the estate. From left to right, my attention sweeps across each monitor. One shows the main house, including my dad’s office. Next, the grounds surrounding the property. There’re even cameras dedicated to every square inch of my mother’s gym. When my gaze lands on the last one, my stomach flips as bile races towards my mouth. There, in vivid Technicolour is my and Liam’s gate-lodge. The screen is blocked off into eight smaller camera views, covering every room we have, including my library. How long has he been watching me? Did he know Cadden had been sneaking onto our property for years? Was he aware of our relationship?
It’s then I notice the empty daybed, not a sign of the sleeping man that should be there.
Shit! “Where the hell is he?” A quick glance at the other screens shows Cadden thundering through the garden, heading straight for the main house. Not wanting him to find me or this secret room, I take a step backwards towards the hidden doorway, hoping to cut him off before he finds my whereabouts.
But right as I’m about to hightail it out of there, my eyes land on the first screen, and my mouth dries when I see the last person I expect to see. My brother. Suddenly, I couldn’t give a shit if Cadden finds me or this room, because all I can focus on is a paused frame of Liam in my parent’s bedroom, murder lighting his stormy eyes. My gaze darts towards the date in the bottom left corner. Friday, May 13—the night of Saoirse’s party, and the night my brother died.
From this angle, I can’t see my dad’s face, but judging by the tight clench of Liam’s jaw, the conversation they’re having is more than a little heated.
My hand itches to reach for the blob on the screen, and before I can stop myself, I’m stepping forward and running the pad of my finger over my brother’s face. I jolt as the screen reacts to my touch and brings the video to life, replaying their conversation.
“Fuck you. This is my life and my choice. And for once, I am choosing me.” Liam turns on his heel and strides towards the doorway, seemingly done with the conversation.
Not one to have the last word, my father steps forward. “What happens to Beibhinn if you walk away now?”
Liam halts, his hand clawed around the door-knob but he doesn’t turn around.
“Do you really think she’s cut out for a leadership role in this family?” My dad pushes, making my blood turn molten.
Suddenly, Liam’s gaze snaps over his shoulder, cold and brutal. “Beibhinn will be twice the leader you ever were if that’s what she decides she wants.”
My father’s lips twist into a sickening smile that makes the hairs on my arms stand at attention. It was rare I ever saw this version of the man I called Dad, and when I did, it was never directed at me. Instead, it was reserved for his workers, the men he employed to run his shipments or any other syndicate business that needed attending to. But, judging by the indifference on my twin’s face, it’s a look he’s more than familiar with.
“That’s where you are wrong, Devin.” He uses Liam’s given name, accentuating each letter with a roll of his tongue. “If you walk away from the role of the head of this family, she won’t have a choice.”
Liam’s shoulders drop as he exhales, but he remains silent as my father continues. “Maybe you should think about that before you piss away your sister’s future, all because you got your heart broken by a little slut like Saoirse Ryan.”
Liam pulls the door open, but he pauses, throwing one final statement into the air. “Saoirse Ryan will be the queen of Killybegs, with or without me by her side. And Beibhinn, as for her, you will rue the day you underestimated her because I promise you, she will reign supreme throughout the entire syndicate. And I for one can’t wait to watch you bow at her feet while you beg her for mercy.”
A tear falls from my eye as Liam slams the door shut behind him. Liam’s faith in me was unwavering, as is the edge in his tone. A sad smile curls my lips. He finally did it. He stood up to Oliver without hesitation.
Then, just when I think there is nothing more to see, my father surprises me by pulling his phone from the inside pocket of his suit. I wait with bated breath as he waits for the call to connect.
Finally, he greets the other caller. “We have a problem. Liam is being difficult. He could cause a problem tonight.”
Unfortunately, I can’t hear what is being said on the other end, but when my dad glides his hand through his hair, he gives me pause. A dark glint swirls in his gaze, making my breath lodge in my throat. Then when his next words filter the air, I choke on them. “The Leinster seat is mine to take.” Once again, the room falls silent as the other caller speaks up. For a second, I presume it’s Gabriel, but then my father throws me with his next statement.
“Don’t worry about Gabriel King. He will be dealt with in due time, but first, we need to get rid of his cocky son and that stupid cunt Saoirse. Stick to the fucking plan. Then by the time the sun rises, there will be nobody to stop me from taking what should have always been mine. Unfortunately, I didn’t know that slut éanna was already fucking pregnant before we gang fucked her, ruining my chances at getting my Ryan heir.”
My father’s manic laughter has vomit filling my mouth, but I swallow it back.
“Do what needs must. If my son becomes collateral damage, so fucking be it. As long as Cadden sticks to his end of our deal, we can carry on with business as normal.”
I don’t hear anything else as everything turns to white noise. My father confirmed my worst fears in a few sentences. He had my brother murdered. And Cadden knew his plan. He fucking knew they were going to kill my brother, and if this video is anything to go by, also Rohan and Saoirse. Cadden was fucking involved.
My knees buckle and I grip the table. So focused on keeping myself from falling to my knees, I ignore when my knuckles knock the handgun my father must have left next to the keyboard. That is until I hear the deep, dripping-with-guilt baritone behind me. “Beibhinn, I swear to you. That wasn’t how it sounded.”
Closing my eyes, I draw in a breath before wrapping my fingers around the butt of my father’s Beretta 92. Slow and steady, I turn on my heel and raise the gun until the barrel is aimed between Cadden’s eyes. “Keep. My fucking name. Out of your lying mouth.”
His hands raise in surrender, but he steps forward, trying to plead his case. “The night of the party?—”
“Take one more step and I swear on my brother’s grave, I will pull this trigger.”
“Let me explain, please?”
The flames of revenge burn brightly within me, propelling me forward on a path that leads to confrontation and reckoning. I close in on him, leaving just enough space to extend my arm as I hold the muzzle between his brows. “I will never believe another word out of your fucking mouth. You have five seconds to piss off back to the hell-hole you came from. Starting now.”
“Bev.”
“One.”
“Please.”
“Two.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with this.”
“Three.”
He holds steady but keeps his mouth shut, eyes on me as I pull back the hammer.
“Four.”
“I’m not leaving until you hear me out.”
My finger rests against the trigger, and a split second before I squeeze down, I jerk my hand to the left and fire over his shoulder. As the bullet flies past his ear, Cadden barely flinches, keeping his gaze locked on mine.
“Take this as a warning, arsehole. You come near me again, speak to me, even look in my direction, I won’t be so fucking gracious with my aim.”
I step around him and his neck cranes, following my every move with dual-toned eyes that bleed sorrow. “Why didn’t you shoot me?” His voice cracks, adding weight to his question.
“That shot was for the girl who loved you. Next time, the one that hates you won’t hesitate.”
I walk away from the shattered remnants of what once was, and I know my journey to justice for my twin’s death is far from over. But also, I know that no matter how far I have to go to make sure I rain hell on everyone involved—my future husband included—Liam’s spirit will walk alongside me, a silent companion in my quest for retribution.
Time to do what queens do best… Reign.