Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Killian
“Cameron, if this is some half-hearted sort of social call, I don’t have time for this shit today.
I have other things I need to tend to,” I state with my phone between my ear and shoulder as I test one of the shipments that came in.
I nod to one of my men in approval and begin walking away for some privacy, which is a luxury these days.
“You know, your accent really comes out when you’re flustered,” Cameron replies, dripping with sarcasm. “Life at the top treating you rough?”
“What’s rough is you slaughtering half my unit just to save your woman,” I spat back, reminding him.
“Love makes you do crazy things.”
“What do you need, Cameron?” I huff as my frustration boils just beneath the surface.
Cameron pauses for a moment, the silence feeling heavy like he’s trying to work through something. Then I hear the inhale. Not trying to work through anything, just smoking like it’s going to cure his worries. “Alessio won’t go up against the Russians. Not yet.”
A sarcastic snort escapes me. “Not yet? He understands if the Russians take over my territory, they won’t stop to overtake his?”
“Alessio is focusing on expanding outside the state. When the Russians try to make a move, he will have the muscle to kick them out of Providence altogether. You have the dock that brings in good revenue. Do you know how hard it was to convince Alessio to give it up to you as repayment to stop your former leader from killing him?”
“That’s not the point and you know it.” The rage behind my voice is calm. “It’s called respect. One leader to another.”
Even if the Russians seize my territory, and Alessio manages to drive them out, there’s no way he’d be willing to hand the dock back to me. Alessio might be young, but he’s sharp. It’s a smart move on his part—one that I can’t fault him for either—but it doesn’t lessen my frustration.
“That’s why I wanted to call and tell you myself. I gave you my word to help you when needed. I’ll get Darius to be on board as well. Alessio doesn’t have to know.”
With a dry chuckle, I pull out a cigarette, flicking the lighter to life.
“You and Darius better watch your backs. Alessio might be a child in your eyes, but he’s got bigger balls than you and Darius put together.
Don’t let that pretty boy face fool you.
Remember his bloodline. Sal was a prick, and Matteo was a psychopath, so it’s only a matter of time before that darkness surfaces.
” With a deep inhale of smoke, I blow out circles to distract my impulse to go kill Alessio myself.
“I’ve got my eyes on Alessio,” Cameron replies with a steady tone. “He knows I owe you for helping me get Selene. He takes no issue with that.”
“For now.” I take another inhale, pinching the cigarette between my thumb and pointer finger.
I hear Cameron speaking as I pull the phone from my ear and hang up.
I don’t need any more stress for today. Looking up, the blue sky is masked by a dark cloud blocking the sun.
Standing at the edge of the pier, the salty air mingling with the faint scent of fish and brine, I blow up smoke in circles.
My mind is elsewhere, trapped in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions as I clutch my phone, which is now vibrating in my palm.
Answering with coldness, I say, “Cameron, I’m—”
“Killian?” The voice on the other end is my aunt Maeve. “I have some news. It’s… It’s about your mother.”
The words hang in the air like an uninvited guest, suffocating the crisp morning. I can feel the ground shift beneath my feet, the vibrant life of the harbor fading into a muted backdrop. “What is it?” I manage to utter, though my voice is barely a whisper, barely a breath.
“She's… gone, love. Your mother has passed. I’m so sorry.”
The world narrows as my heart sinks, the weight of the news crashing down like an anchor.
Each syllable Maeve utters feels like a dagger, each pause a reminder of a bond severed too soon.
My mind races back to childhood memories: the smell of her perfume wafting through their small home, the warmth of her embrace, the sound of her laughter echoing through the halls.
All of it now feels like a dream fading into the past, leaving only a hollow ache in its wake.
“Killian, they’re holding off the Vardo until you arrive back in Ireland,” Maeve continues, her voice steady but laced with sorrow. “We’ll take care of everything. Just… please come home.”
Home. The word used to hold a different meaning—a sanctuary filled with love and laughter. Now it feels like a beckoning call to a place shrouded in grief. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and will myself to find strength in the depths of this anguish.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can, Maeve,” my voice regaining a semblance of steadiness.
As I hang up the call, the ocean breeze brushes against my skin, taking a moment, allowing the salty air to fill my lungs, grounding me in the present.
Each inhalation feels like a battle against the rising tide of sorrow threatening to engulf me.
With a heavy heart, I turn away from the dock even though the weight of grief presses down on me, but intertwined with it is a sense of purpose—a need to honor my mother’s memory, to celebrate the life she had lived.
I shout to my men. “Where the fuck is Donal?”