Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Three years earlier…
DECLAN
I remember the knife.
I noticed it when I first sat down, lying on the table between us because Seamus had put it there deliberately.
The office smelled like old wood and bourbon.
“Just for the sake of transparency,” Seamus said, “I'm recording this, Declan, but I'll store it in the archives so that nobody sees it. This will be just between you and me. Do you understand?”
“Aye.”
I kept my face still. I’d been practicing that since the drive over, the art of looking like someone who hadn’t spent three nights awake before arriving at this decision.
“You know what the rules state?” Seamus said. “The Kavanaghs betrayed the McCarthys, and by all rights and purposes, their lives are forfeit.”
I breathed through my nose. Her name is Bridget, and her parents made choices she knew nothing about. She has her mother's eyes and her father's stubbornness, and she has done nothing to deserve what my family is about to do to her.
“No innocents, Seamus.”
Not a request.
Seamus nodded. “Not this time. Padraic and Tara Kavanagh deserve to face consequences for their betrayal, and I’m not changing my mind on that.”
“Aye.” That wasn't the argument. I didn’t come here to argue about Padraic and Tara Kavanagh. I let out a breath through my teeth. “Exile is an option, isn't it?”
I sat very, very still.
“It is,” Seamus said. “And I'll agree to that for Erin’s sake as well, seeing as she is married to Cavin now.”
“Right.” I nod. “But the problem, and why I'm here, is that Bridget is under no such protection, Erin's sister or no. Is that right?”
I already knew the answer. I needed to say it out loud because I didn’t want any ambiguity in the room. So neither of us could pretend this was anything else.
“Aye. You know we obey Clan Code. Last night I spoke with my da and yours, with Uncle Nolan and Tiernan, Tully, Carson and Lachlan, and they all agree that the family code stands.”
My da. I dragged a hand through my hair. Hadn’t let myself think too carefully about that part. My father, who looked at me across the dinner table two weeks ago and said, “I’m proud of you, Declan,” like he meant it.
“Aye.”
“We also agree,” Seamus said, “that an offer can be made on another's behalf. A life for a life, so to speak, though I use the term loosely. You want Bridget Kavanagh to walk away from this untouched. I'm listening. So. What are you putting on the table?”
And there it was.
I sat up straighter. I had a whole speech prepared. I’d written it out, then burned it because I realized the length of the speech was a form of asking. And I wasn’t asking.
“Me,” I said. “Take me.”
I slid the paper across the table before Seamus could respond. I spent two days compiling every asset, every investment, and the full inheritance, all laid out in clean columns. I kept my hand on it for one half second, then let go.
“My assets. My investments. My inheritance. I will marry whoever you choose, whenever you say, and I give you everything.” I paused. “In exchange, you protect Bridget Kavanagh.”
The room was very quiet.
I kept my face still, thought about the knife on the table, and did not think about anything else.
“I, Seamus McCarthy, give you my word,” Seamus said. He picked up the knife.
Right, then.
The cut was fast and clean. I took the blade when it was offered, pressed it across my own palm without hesitation, and breathed in through the sharp line of pain. We shook hands, the blood pressed warm between our palms.
“Bridget Kavanagh will be treated as one of ours,” Seamus said.
“She will be recognized at the McCarthy family table.
She will be treated like a sister. She will have guards, a job and money, everything she needs.
You have my word. You cannot go back on this, and neither can I.
If you do, Bridget's protection is forfeit. Is that understood?”
“Understood.”
I imagined, for just a moment, going to her and saying I’d made a deal. You're safe. You will always be safe because I put everything I have between you and them, and I would do it again. I imagined the way she’d look at me.
Then I got up and left, walking out into the gray Ballyhock afternoon.
I’d figure out the rest.