28. Eamon
Eamon
The tension in the private meeting room is palpable as Seamus shifts uncomfortably in his chair.
The faint scent of smoke lingers on his clothes as I scroll through the pictures once more.
I scroll through the photos again: blackened debris, twisted metal, the remains of a shipment that was supposed to be untouchable.
My jaw tightens as I set the phone down on the table.
“What the hell is this about?” Seamus asks, his voice edged with irritation and confusion. “Why would Ruairi Quigley risk a full-on war with us? It doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s a message,” I reply, my tone cold and clipped. Holding up the white envelope, I let the wax seal speak for itself. The Quigley crest, bold and undeniable, was found pinned to the warehouse door. “He’s making his intentions very clear.”
“A message? For what?” Seamus shakes his head. “Quigley’s no fool. He knows we’ll retaliate.”
I place the envelope on the table, staring at the crest for a moment before breaking the seal. The faint crack of wax echoes in the room as I pull out a folded sheet of thick, cream-colored paper and read the note aloud.
She is blood of my blood, bound by a name you’ll never own.
Turn back while you still can,
Or be swallowed whole by the abyss you’ve chosen.
~R.Q.
“That’s a bit dramatic,” he mutters.
“Dramatic or not, it’s a warning.” I set the note down. “And he’s not bluffing.”
“Eamon, what in the bloody hell’s going on?” he asks.
My fingers brush the edge of the table. I don’t like having to explain myself to anyone, but there’s no point in dancing around the truth. Not after this. Meeting Seamus’s questioning gaze, I keep my voice low and steady. “It’s about the woman in my penthouse.”
Seamus arches a brow, his confusion deepening. “You’re telling me this is about a girl?”
I exhale sharply. “Her name is Aoife. Aoife Quigley. Twin sister of?—”
“Hold one. Are you telling me she’s Ruairi’s twin sister?” He leans forward, his voice lowering. “You mean to tell me the woman you’re ag scairteadh léi is Patrick Quigley’s daughter? The one he kept hidden for years?”
I nod once. “Yes.”
Seamus lets out a low whistle. “Christ, Eamon. That explains a lot. How the hell did this even happen?”
“It was an accident,” I say flatly, not wanting to indulge him but knowing he won’t let it go. “We met in the Maldives. I didn’t know who she really was, and then she left unexpectedly.”
Seamus smirks. “So she’s what’s had you so twisted up all this time. I didn’t have you pegged as the type to lose your head over some pussy.”
I glare at him, my voice cutting through his amusement. “You’re treading on thin ice.”
“Fine, fine.” He raises his hands in mock surrender. But still, mucker, this is different. The woman’s a hot piece of ass, no denying that, but she’s not worth?—”
I’m on him before he finishes the sentence, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him halfway across the table. My voice drops, deadly quiet. “Do not. Talk. About her. Like that. Not ever.”
Seamus stares at me, shocked, before nodding slowly. I release him as I sit back in my chair. “You will treat Aoife with respect,” I say, my tone laced with warning. “I can promise you won’t like what happens if you don’t. Understood?”
He nods again, straightening his shirt, his focus shifting as he clears his throat. “Fine. So, what do we do about this attack?”
“We strike back,” I say. “Quigley just received a critical shipment of weapons. He’s planning to move it through the Midlands en route to supply a nationalist faction that’s looking to stir unrest in the North.
If this deal goes through, he won’t just strengthen his Syndicate.
He’ll position himself as a major player with political factions owing him favors. ”
Seamus’ expression darkens. “The Midlands? If he’s running his routes through there, he’s not just pushing limits. He’s staking a claim.”
“Exactly,” I reply, my voice tightening. “He’s testing the waters, seeing how far he can go before someone pushes back. This shipment isn’t just about weapons. It’s leverage. If he pulls this off, he’ll have power over groups no one should have control of.”
“So, we hit it. Hard. Make sure Quigley loses the shipment and the deal. That’ll send a clear message.”
“And cripple his plans,” I add, leaning back in my chair. “We intercept it before it leaves the Midlands. His buyers lose faith, and he loses the foothold he’s trying to build.”
“And here I thought we’d have a quiet week.” Seamus grins, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “And Quigley? Do you want me to take him out?”
I shake my head. “No. Ruairi stays unharmed. Make that clear to the men.”
Seamus’s mouth opens like he’s about to protest, but the look I give him silences whatever thought crosses his mind. “You’re the boss,” he mutters, though the doubt in his voice is unmistakable.
“Good,” I say and motion toward the door. “Now get it done.”
Seamus hesitates for a moment before nodding and leaving the room, the door clicking shut behind him.
Sitting alone in the silence, the gravity of what’s about to transpire weighs heavily on me. Ruairi’s not stupid. He knew exactly what he was doing by attacking my shipment. He wanted to provoke me, to test how far I’d go for Aoife. And I know it won’t end here.
But I meant what I said to her. She’s mine now, and I won’t allow anyone, including her brother, to take her from me.
The room feels too quiet, the silence almost mocking as it settles around me. My phone sits on the table, the screen dark. But my mind is already racing ahead, calculating my next move. Ruairi thinks he can send a message, but he’ll learn soon enough that I don’t play defense. I strike back.
For now, I’ll ensure his safety—for Aoife’s sake. It’s a line I won’t cross unless he forces my hand. If that happens, I’ll no longer be able to guarantee his survival.
With my decision made, I rise to my feet. If Quigley wants a war, then he’ll get one. And when the final move is played, there won’t be a shadow of doubt about who holds the upper hand.