27. Ruairi
Ruairi
I slam the door behind me, the sound reverberating through the house. My chest heaves as I try to force down the anger boiling inside me, but it’s no use. The image of Aoife standing beside Eamon O’Sullivan burns in my mind like a brand.
“Ruairi?” Bridget’s voice carries from the sitting room, cautious and expectant. She steps into the hallway, her expression softening when she sees my face. “Where’s Aoife?”
“She’s not here,” I snap, brushing past her and heading toward the kitchen. I grab a glass from the counter and pour a measure of whiskey, the amber liquid sloshing as my hands shake.
Bridget follows, her footsteps light but determined. “What do you mean she’s not here? What happened?”
I throw back the drink in one gulp, the burn doing nothing to quell my fury. “She’s with him.” The words taste bitter as they leave my mouth.
Bridget frowns, confused. “With whom?”
“Eamon bloody O’Sullivan,” I snarl, slamming the glass onto the counter. “My sister is with the head of the Dublin syndicate.”
Bridget’s face pales, her hand coming up to her mouth. “Oh, Ruairi,” she hesitates, her eyes darting away. “I knew she met someone, but I didn’t know who it was.”
My head snaps toward her, the betrayal twisting in my gut. “You knew?” I bark, advancing on her. “And you didn’t tell me?”
Bridget doesn’t flinch, her expression hardening. “Don’t you dare turn this on me,” she fires back. “I didn’t know who it was, and even if I had, it wouldn’t have mattered. Aoife’s a grown woman. You can’t keep treating her like a child.”
“She’s my sister,” I growl, the words grinding out between clenched teeth. “I’m trying to protect her.”
“No, you’re not,” Bridget argues, crossing her arms. “You’re trying to control her, and it’s going to backfire on you. She’s not the little girl you used to boss around, Ri. She’s a capable young woman, and you need to stop underestimating her.”
My temper flares again. “So now you’re telling me I’m wrong, are you? That I should let her work in the Syndicate?”
“I’m saying I understand why you’re against it,” Bridget says evenly. “But in Aoife’s mind, she has just as much right to lead this Syndicate as you do.”
“If you’re referring to that ridiculous promise,” I scoff, throwing up my hands. “We were children. We didn’t know what we were saying.”
“Maybe you didn’t,” she replies, her tone softer but no less resolute. “But Aoife did. And it meant something to her. Maybe it’s time you considered things from her point of view.”
I shake my head, pacing the room like a caged animal. “So what? You think I should hand her a role? Let her throw herself into this life without a second thought?”
“I’m saying there must be something you can let her do,” Bridget counters. “Something small, something that keeps her here. At least then she’s safe, and she’s not in Dublin with some man.”
I meet her gaze, my voice cold. “Aoife made her choice clear. She’s with O’Sullivan now. She deserves whatever comes of it.”
Bridget’s shoulders sag slightly, disappointment flickering across her face. “Be careful, Ri,” she warns. “If he’s as dangerous as you say, Aoife’s going to need you eventually. Don’t slam the door on her completely.”
With that, she turns and leaves, the quiet click of the door leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I sink into a chair, rubbing a hand over my face as Bridget’s words echo in my head. Aoife’s going to need you eventually .
My fists clench. I can’t think like that. She chose this path. Chose him over her own flesh and blood.
I pull out my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I land on Ronan, my second-in-command. He’s dependable and ruthless, the one person I can trust to handle this without hesitation.
When he answers, his voice is calm. “Boss?”
“I want plans in place to take O’Sullivan’s Syndicate down,” I say, my tone steely.
There’s a pause before Ronan responds, his voice measured but curious. “What’s this about? O’Sullivan’s been on your radar for a while, but we’ve never gone after him directly.”
I clench my jaw, debating how much to share. “He’s been pushing for more territory in the Midlands, and it’s time we remind him where the lines are.”
Ronan hesitates. “Pushing how? I haven’t seen anything that justifies starting a war.”
“O’Sullivan’s taken something that belongs to me,” I snap.
“What did he take?” Ronan asks, his tone cautious. “And how fast do you want us to move?”
I grip the edge of the desk, my knuckles white. “My sister,” I say finally, the words like acid on my tongue. “Aoife is in Dublin with him.”
Ronan hesitates, the weight of my admission sinking in. “Aoife’s with O’Sullivan?” he repeats, disbelief evident in his voice.
“Yes,” I growl. “And while we’re dismantling his operation, I want every precaution taken to ensure she’s not harmed. Pass that down to every man. Aoife does not get touched. No exceptions.”
“Understood,” Ronan replies, his tone sharpening with purpose. “Do you want us to target his supply chain first?”
“Ports, routes, businesses. Start where it’ll hurt him the most. Hit them clean, make him bleed, but don’t overreach. I want this controlled.”
“Got it,” Ronan says after a pause. “Anything else?”
“That’s all for now. Keep me updated,” I say, ending the call.
I toss the phone onto the desk, exhaling slowly as my mind races with the weight of what’s to come. If Aoife wants to stand by O’Sullivan, then she’ll learn the hard way how much it will cost.