Chapter 29 Livvie
LIVVIE
When the SUV swerves to a halt, I hit the door hard enough to bruise.
Metal cuffs bite into my wrists where they’re clamped on my lap, skin chafed raw from the struggle I haven’t stopped waging since Roman dragged me off the street.
A warehouse looms ahead, flanked by old rail tracks and there’s broken glass everywhere.
Abandoned decades ago, its red brick structure crumbles with decay and rust streaks the steel door.
The back passenger door is yanked open. Two men in black haul me out by the arms. My feet scrape the gravel, sneakers catching as I twist against their grip.
“Don’t fucking touch me!”
I kick out a foot, aiming for a knee. Miss. A fist slams into my ribs, the retaliating blow knocking the air out of my lungs.
I can’t breathe. Can’t think straight because Roman hasn’t ordered them to stop hurting me.
Pain flares white-hot. When I stumble, doubled over, they drag me through a side entrance, the steel door screeching open like it hasn’t moved in years.
Inside, the air is stale, laced with damp and grime. Machinery skulks in the shadows like sleeping beasts. They look like welders, metal presses, rusted conveyor belts, all sitting silent and abandoned.
Every footstep shoots through the cavernous space, echoing like bursts of gunfire.
Above my head, rows of glassless windows spill sunlight inside, illuminating a maze of steel catwalks and a rusted mezzanine office with warped blinds.
A loud clock ticks somewhere. Every beat a bullet. Every second a countdown.
They push me past stained tables, through a gauntlet of chain-link cages and hanging hooks that sway as we pass.
“What’s this about, Roman?” I hiss, voice ragged.
He strolls ahead in the gloom and steps under a flickering strip light where shadows slice his face in half, the other side carved from stone like Death has shown up.
“You always did love making a scene,” he says, calm as ever.
“You’ve lost it,” I spit, lungs burning. “This won’t end the way you think it will.”
He steps closer and smiles like it’s a joke only he understands.
“We’ll see.”
The cuffs jangle as the men shove me toward a steel chair bolted to the concrete floor. I thrash harder now, planting my feet, jerking my body in every direction, refusing to make this easy.
“It’s pointless fighting,” Roman says, voice bored. “You’re not going anywhere.”
One of the guys grabs a handful of my hair and yanks my head back while the other kicks the backs of my knees so I crumple, hitting the chair.
“Don’t touch me, you bastards!” I snarl, spitting in the direction of one.
Roman sighs, waving a hand.
“Leave us.”
The two men exchange a glance but obey. Their boots echo off into the darkness, until only Roman and the ticking of that goddamn clock remain.
He folds his arms, his boots crunching on broken glass as he circles the chair.
My breath comes faster. Sweat rolls down my spine beneath Kingston’s stolen T-shirt. I twist against the restraints, not giving up.
He stops in front of me and crouches so we’re face-to-face.
“You done with the tantrum, Liv?”
I launch my body forward, all teeth and fury. My shoulder slams into his chest, head snapping up toward his jaw, but he catches me mid-motion, a blur of strength and muscle.
“You fight like a spoiled little brat,” he growls, gripping my thighs. “But I have to admit, it’s a turn-on.”
“Go to hell,” I hiss, straining against him, teeth bared.
He laughs. That same low, rumble I used to find sexy when I didn’t know better.
“You always did love it rough, Liv.”
“You always did love being delusional,” I bite back.
He straightens, brushing a finger along my jaw. I jerk away from his touch, seething.
“But we both know the truth,” he murmurs. “We were never finished. You were mine first.”
I go still, my veins running cold. My heart slams against my ribs and the taste of copper seeps into my mouth.
"Want me to tell you why I brought you here?" he asks. “Because right now, you must think this is just about you. About stealing you away from Kingston.”
I glare at him. “Leave him out of your bullshit, Roman.”
The fresh scent of his cologne disguises the rot I now see in his eyes.
“This is about spilled blood,” he grits out. “My kid brother’s to be precise.”
When I blink, caught off guard, he sees it and smiles.
“Yeah, Liv. Your da, Cormac fucking O’Callaghan, had him murdered while you were off playing princess in boarding school. The bastard ordered the hit like he was taking out fucking trash.”
Roman’s tone turns razor-sharp. “He was twenty. Just a kid. Loyal to your da, and stupid enough to think that meant something.”
His eyes gleam with something feverish when he moves his face in closer.
“They shot him in the knees first. Let him scream. Let him beg. Then they put a hole in his gut and left him bleeding out on a filthy, cold warehouse floor.”
He pauses for a beat, eyes dark and intense.
“He cried, Livvie. Dragged himself through his own blood, still trying to live, handprints smeared across the concrete. I saw the CCTV footage. Watched him die slow, alone, choking on the scream no one else heard.”
I freeze. My stomach knots so tight I might be sick right here, but Roman isn’t done.
“He called for me, you know. Said my name. Like he hoped I’d appear to save him.” Roman smiles, but it’s hollow. “I’d never want you to understand that pain, Liv… but maybe it’s the only way forward now.”
His voice cracks for a split second, and it chills me more than the fury. “He bled out in a disused building just like this one.”
Roman’s not bluffing. He’s broken. And broken men don’t care who they bury.
I clench my jaw, pulse thundering in my ears. “Jesus, Roman. That was my da’s order. Not mine… and not Kingston’s either.”
His burst of laughter is grit and false amusement.
“You think the stain of his blood skips over you because you didn’t pull the trigger?” he snarls. “You always played the obedient daughter in your ivory tower while the rest of us crawled through the filth your family left behind.”
I tilt my chin, anger blooming in my chest. “And what are you now, huh? A martyr? You want revenge so bad you’ll drag me into it like I’m the one who made ya bleed?”
His eyes flash. “No, princess. I’ll drag you into it because you’re the only thing I can use to hurt that bastard.”
That lands like a punch to the gut.
My stomach turns.
“You hate my da that much,” I whisper, “that you’re willing to become worse… to hurt me?”
He slams a fist into the metal wall beside me, the clang echoing through the building. Dust sifts from the beams above. I don’t flinch this time. “You wear the crown, princess. You’re an O’Callaghan.”
“And that makes me guilty?”
“In my world, it makes you a pawn. One I intend to use.”
He yanks something from his coat. A silver pendant, tarnished and bent. It spins in his fingers as he stares at it with glassy eyes.
“My brother gave me this days before he died. Said the bloodline would end with us if we didn’t fight back.”
Roman’s voice turns distant. Hollow. “Now I get payback.”
There’s a sound behind us. Muffled footsteps and the low groan of a door. Roman stuffs the chain into his pocket and clears his throat.
A man in a dark overcoat appears at the far end of the warehouse. In the dim light he appears nondescript.
Average in height. Balding. But there’s a weight to his presence that makes my stomach twist.
He walks closer without batting an eye at my situation and looks straight at Roman.
“You said you had a name,” the man says, his voice old and rasping but not weak. “From the vault.”
Roman nods. “I want what was promised.”
“Information is earned. Not gifted. This better be worth the blood it cost.”
Roman hands him a folded slip of paper. The man tucks it into his coat.
Then he turns, eyes grazing over me as if I’m nothing but furniture. “This one has orders.”
Roman’s smile is razor-thin. “Is that so?”
“I’ll contact you after the meeting scheduled at pier 47.” The man leaves without another word. I glare at Roman, his face all satisfaction and shadow.
“What the hell was that?” I ask, throat dry and head thumping. “What have ya done, Roman?”
I don’t know what he just traded. But I’m wise to the smile on his face which means someone’s going to die.
He crouches beside me again, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “That, Livvie… was the beginning of the end for your family. You’ll know which one once the headlines break.”
My stomach flips, nausea rising fast and thick. The bile scorches my throat, and for a second I’m sure I’m going to throw up.
The skin on my wrists throbs against the cuffs, metal cutting deeper every time I wrestle with them.
But I force my breathing to remain steady. Force myself to glare at him.
“Fuck you, Roman,” I rasp, voice raw. “This isn’t just about revenge for your brother. Who, by the way, must have fucked up all by himself to deserve a kill order.”
He doesn’t flinch. That almost pisses me off more.
“You came unglued the second my da pulled us apart. You were obsessed then, and you’re worse now. Don’t pretend this is justice.”
I drag my gaze over him, slow and scathing. “We weren’t anything real, Roman. Just quick fucks in a bulletproof car.”
His jaw flexes, but I don’t stop.
“You were pissed my da put an end to it before you had the chance to get bored. And now you’re using your dead brother to justify dragging me into your psychodrama. That’s not revenge. That’s pathetic.”
I lean forward, letting my smile cut like glass.
“You want to hurt me? Get in line because I’m on the Red Tribunal’s hit list and after today, the Viacavas too. I’m already dead.”