62. Cian
Cian
Power pulses beneath my skin, sharp and electric, close enough to taste. I tip my whiskey glass to my lips, savoring the slow burn as it carves its way down my throat, anchoring the hunger coiling tighter inside me.
Everything I’ve bled for is finally within reach.
Eamon.
Ruairi.
Their men. Their empires. Their power. Soon, all of it will be mine.
And Aoife.
The ring box in my pocket weighs heavier than it should. A solid promise pressing into my thigh, waiting for the moment I'll make it real.
She doesn’t know yet. But she will.
I’ll slip the diamond onto her finger, and she’ll take her place at my side sharp, ruthless, crowned in blood and loyalty. And exactly where she belongs.
Ruairi never understood what she could be.
Eamon only saw how he could use her.
But I see it all.
I see what no one else has the strength to claim.
Aoife is a queen.
My queen.
And if she refuses the crown I offer her, if she falters—I’ll break her. I’ll bury her beside the men too blind to recognize their place.
She’ll come through.
She has to.
I’ll make her my queen. Or I’ll make her a ghost.
The hunger inside me doesn’t care which.
It only cares that I win.
The phone vibrates against the desk, a shrill demand slicing through the silence. I let it buzz once, twice, savoring the power thrumming through me before leaning back in my chair, smiling as I connect the call.
"Tell me you have good news,” Ronan says.
"I do," I say flatly. "I spoke with Aoife and told her we’re moving up the timeline.”
"And?" Ronan presses, impatience threading through his voice.
"She’ll be in contact tomorrow. Things are moving along," I say, keeping my tone even.
"There’s still one problem," he mutters.
I let out a slow exhale, irritation already prickling under my skin.
"What problem?" I bite out.
"The men," he says grimly.
I narrow my eyes. "We already talked about this. We wait until they have no choice but to fall in line."
"And most of them will," Ronan agrees. "But not all."
I know what he’s getting at before he even says it. "Seamus," I say, rolling the name over my tongue like a curse.
"You know he won’t turn, even when O’Sullivan’s gone," Ronan says. "They grew up together. He’s loyal. That kind of devotion doesn’t disappear because his boss is dead."
I drag a hand over my jaw, weighing his words carefully. Seamus has always been one of O’Sullivan’s most trusted men. Ruthless. Calculated. Deadly. It’s what makes him dangerous, but it’s also why he’d be valuable if he pledged loyalty to me instead.
"Let me handle him," I say.
"No." There’s a sharp edge to Ronan’s voice. "Seamus will never be loyal to us. He’s a liability we can’t have.”
Seamus is a relic, a man who clings to the idea that Eamon is untouchable. I take a slow sip of my drink, letting the burn settle before answering. "Then we make an example of him."
"That’s not quite what I had in mind," Ronan chuckles.
“What are you proposing?” I ask, already anticipating his answer.
"We let Aoife handle him," Ronan replies, his tone casual like he’s suggesting something as simple as moving a chess piece across the board.
I go still. A muscle ticks in my jaw as I carefully set my glass down. "Aoife?"
For the first time in our partnership, Ronan catches me off guard. Of all the ways I imagined he might deal with Seamus, this wasn’t one of them. I was ready for blackmail, pressure, or a quiet disappearance. I was prepared to spill his blood myself if it came to that.
But handing him to Aoife? As a test?
The thought sinks into me like rot, slow and cold, spreading through the hollow spaces I can no longer ignore.
I don’t move. I don't blink.
I let the stillness hold me together while the poison curls deeper into my bones.
"You’re hesitating," Ronan notes, a smug edge creeping into his voice like he’s caught me in a moment of weakness.
I force my expression to smooth out and keep my voice carefully measured. "I don’t see the point in testing her when I already know where she stands."
"Do you?" he presses. "Because I’m not convinced. You say she’s with us, but she’s been treading a fine line, keeping both Ruairi and Eamon within reach. We need to know she’s truly loyal to you. To us."
I don’t like the idea. Not because I doubt her but because I know exactly what she’s capable of.
Aoife isn’t weak.
She’s sharp enough to cut, ruthless enough to destroy if she chooses to. There’s a darkness in her that Ronan hasn’t seen yet. One I should fear more than I do.
But forcing her hand now, before she's entirely mine before the last chains settle—it's a risk I can't afford to second-guess.
I drag a breath through my nose, cold and shallow, swallowing the hint of unease in the pit hollowing out my chest. I can't let Ronan see it.
"Fine," I say, at last, my agreement a slow, measured concession. "We’ll test her."
He doesn’t hear the death already written into my voice. Doesn’t realize he’s just another piece I’ll sweep off the board when the time comes.
He still believes I’ll leash her.
Tame her.
Make her kneel.
Fool.
Aoife was never meant for chains.
She was made for the crown.
She was made for blood.
And when I rise, she’ll rise with me—not as a pawn, but as the fire that devours everything in our path.
She’s the only one left that matters.
The only one strong enough to match me.
The only one strong enough to break me—if I let her.
And maybe I want her to.
Ronan exhales, satisfied. "Good. Let’s see where her loyalty really lies."
We end the call, and I roll my shoulders.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the small velvet box and flip it open.
The diamond catches the dim light, burning like ice in my palm.
I picture Aoife with my ring on her finger, standing at my side.
Not just mine in the way she should have been all along but mine in the eyes of the world.
My blood runs hot at the thought.
Nothing will stop this.
Nothing will stop me from ruling with Aoife. Not Ruairi. Not Eamon, and not Ronan.
Ronan thinks his place at my side is guaranteed. It isn’t. I only need him for a little while longer. Long enough to help dismantle the old order.
And when the time comes?
I’ll deal with him the same way I’ll deal with the rest of them.
Permanently.