75. Aoife
Aoife
The ends of my hair cling to my neck, still damp from the shower, curling in uneven waves. I follow Eamon into the kitchen, my bare feet brushing against the cool tile, every step pulling me a little further from the wreckage I left behind.
The silence between us hums low and steady, not heavy like before. Something quieter, something I can breathe inside. Eamon’s presence fills the room, steady and sure, holding back the darkness I’m not strong enough to face alone.
For now, it’s enough.
Seamus is already there, sitting at the table, a mug of tea in one hand, his phone in the other. He glances up as we enter, his face lined with exhaustion but sharp with focus. "Cleanup is underway," he says, his voice all business, cutting straight to what matters.
Eamon crosses his arms. “Any word on my men?”
“Located,” Seamus replies. “They’re en route back to the castle.” He glances between us. “Do you want to handle it personally?”
Turning to Eamon, I say, “It’s okay if you need to go.”
Eamon doesn’t take his eyes off Seamus. “No. You handle it.”
Seamus gives a short nod, no questions asked.
The conversation is interrupted as Dr. Kearney steps into the room.
I straighten instinctively. “How is he?”
Dr. Kearney looks to Eamon who gives a slight nod, his permission to speak freely.
"Severely dehydrated. Malnourished. His vitals are stable for now, but his body’s been pushed past its limits," Dr. Kearney says, his voice clipped but controlled.
"He's showing early signs of pneumonia. He’ll need strict rest, a high-protein diet, and time.
With proper care, I expect a full recovery, but it'll be a hard road. "
He doesn’t come out and say it, but I recognize that as doctor speak, for he’s lucky to be alive.
Behind him, Bridget appears in the doorway, her arms crossed tight against her chest. Her eyes find mine, but there’s no warmth, no welcome. Only a vacant stare that makes my stomach knot.
I search for something to offer, some small way to make it better. "Would you like some tea? Or something to eat?—"
She cuts me off, her voice sharp, final. "Ruairi’s asking for you."
I flinch, a breath catching in my chest. Whatever bridge once stood between us has already burned.
Before I can respond, Eamon brushes his hand gently against the small of my back and leans in to press a kiss to my temple. “Go. I’ll make sure Bridget has whatever she needs.”
With a final glance at my sister-in-law, I turn and walk down the hallway. My pulse thrumming harder with each step. The guestroom door is cracked, but I still knock.
“Come in,” Ruairi calls.
Easing the door open, I step inside slowly.
Ruairi’s propped against a pile of pillows, an IV snakes from his left hand, the line a stark reminder of how close he came to breaking.
Clean clothes hang loose on his too-thin frame.
The shirt swamps his shoulders, the sleeves falling past his wrists, but he’s upright—barely.
He looks tired. Pale. Older.
I hover in the doorway, unsure.
“Come sit,” he says
Each step toward him drags, the weight of guilt pressing harder with every breath. I lower myself into the chair beside his bed, unable to look at him, my gaze fixed on my trembling hands instead.
“Evie,” he says quietly.
And that’s all it takes. Whatever was holding me together shatters, and the tears spill over before I can stop them.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice splintering under the weight of it. "I'm so sorry for everything. For what I did to you. I—" I choke on the words." I thought I was doing what I had to. I thought I was protecting us. But it all got so... complicated."
"Stop." His hand moves toward mine, and without thinking, I let him take it. His grip is weak, but the effort behind it is all strength. "Why did you do it?" he asks, his voice raw, barely above a whisper.
I swallow hard, my throat burning. "Because you wouldn't listen," I say, the words trembling out of me. "You wouldn’t let me in. I needed to prove I was smart enough—strong enough. I thought if I showed you, you'd finally believe in me. I didn’t mean for it to go this far."
Ruairi lets out a slow, shuddering breath, the sound cutting deeper than any accusation.
"You’re right," he says, his voice threaded with something dangerously close to regret. "I kept pushing you away. I told myself it was to protect you. But truthfully? I didn’t want things to change. I didn’t want you to change them. "
His eyes meet mine, and for once, there are no walls, no shields. "That’s on me."
I stare at him, my heart breaking all over again.
"When we met at the restaurant," he says slowly, something bleak passing through his expression. "I was ready to offer you a place in the Syndicate." He scrubs a hand over his face, frustrated, tired. "But then we fought. And I let pride get in the way,” he admits.
He lets out a broken laugh. "Turns out I'm just as stubborn as you are."
A breathless sound escapes me. Something between a laugh and a sob. "We're twins," I manage, my throat tight. "Comes with the territory."
For the first time, Ruairi’s mouth tugs into the ghost of a smile. But the moment shatters in the next breath.
"Did you tell Bridget?" I ask quietly.
Before he can answer, a voice slices the room clean in two.
"Did he tell me what?"
We both turn. Bridget stands in the doorway, shoulders stiff, her eyes sparking with fury barely held in check.
Ruairi stiffens. "It’s nothing?—"
"It’s not nothing," I cut in, standing before I can think better of it. I move toward her, my heart hammering so loudly I can barely hear my own voice. "I’m the reason Ruairi disappeared."
Bridget’s face drains of color. "What are you talking about?"
"It’s complicated," I say, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I don’t know if I can explain it all. But I set things in motion. I thought it was the only way to prove I was capable."
Bridget’s mouth hardens. Her voice sharpens. "You think that justifies it?" She whips toward Ruairi, her fury cutting clean and deep. "You were right not to trust her."
"No," he says, firm despite the rasp in his throat. "I was wrong." He turns to me, his voice steady. "She saved my life."
The words linger between us like smoke, impossible to clear, impossible to forget.
And then, softly but without hesitation, he adds, "And if she still wants it, I’d like her to run the Quigley Syndicate with me."
Bridget recoils like he struck her. "What?" she breathes.
I blink, caught off guard by the weight of it. "I’d love to," I say carefully, cautiously, "but only if it doesn’t cause problems between you two."
Bridget says nothing, her expression locked tight, unreadable.
Ruairi answers for her, quiet but unyielding. "It won’t."
The knot in my chest tightens. "I accept," I say, my voice steady, "but on one condition."
Bridget’s eyes narrow. "You’re not really in a position to make demands."
Ruairi cuts her a look that shuts her up instantly. "Let her speak."
I take a breath, every word feeling like a choice I can’t take back. "The Quigley and O’Sullivan Syndicates need to start working together. You and me, Ruairi. And Eamon."
His jaw tightens, the bitterness surfacing for a moment before he forces it down. "You’re really staying with him?" he asks.
"I love him," I say simply, letting the truth settle between us.
Before Ruairi can answer, another voice slices clean through the tension.
"And I love her," Eamon says from the doorway, his voice low, lethal in its calm. He steps forward, each move deliberate, placing himself at my side like he was built to belong there.
"I won’t let you take her from me," he says, his hand settling on the small of my back. His eyes stay locked on Ruairi, cold and unblinking. "She’s mine no matter what you decide. And I don't make a habit of losing what’s mine."
The air between them crackles, silent and deadly.
I lay my hand gently over Eamon’s, grounding both of us, feeling the tension vibrating under his skin. "Let’s give him some time," I murmur, trying to steer us back from the edge. "Let him rest."
Eamon doesn’t move for a beat, his body coiled tight, still staring Ruairi down. Then, finally, he grunts a low "Fine," but the weight behind it promises anything but peace.
With his hand still firm on my back, he guides me from the room, leaving Ruairi behind, swallowed by the silence and the fractures we can’t undo.
And as the door shuts softly behind us, I know nothing between us will ever be the same.