30. CHAPTER 30
CILLIAN
Moonshine:
We’re going out tonight. Are you coming?
Fuck. My boy asking me out. He doesn’t ask anyone.
You asking, or ordering me because I’m already yours?
Neither. Informing.
Pretty boy, you don’t inform me. You summon me when that tight little body gets needy.
Then consider yourself summoned.
My mouth went dry. My cock thickened against my zipper.
My eyes found the photo on my desk, the one I took of him on that beach in Saint Lucia, head tilted back, completely lost in the stars.
I can’t.
Nothing. No dots. Nothing.
You can’t?
I have to leave for a few days.
Where?
Ireland.
Why?
Family business.
Fuck, I hate lying to him.
Tonight?
Three dots. Gone. Back again.
You weren’t going to tell me.
I just did.
After I asked.
You like making me answer. Gets you off when that pretty control of yours cracks, doesn’t it?
Don’t deflect.
Where in Ireland?
My thumb hovered.
Ashbourne land.
That is not a place.
Nothing.
Are you leaving because of me?
Everything I do lately is because of you.
I should have deleted it.
I didn’t.
Are you in danger?
I’m Irish.
Cillian.
I’ll be fine.
Tell me the truth.
My thumb slid across the screen.
I don’t want to drag you any deeper into this shit, Moonshine. Not yet.
What are you talking about, Cillian? Don’t you dare start speaking in riddles now.
Nothing you need to worry about right now. I’ve got something I need to fix before it touches you. That’s all you get.
That is not an answer. You’re hiding something. And it has to do with why you’re suddenly running to Ireland right after everything.
Yeah. It does. And you’re going to have to trust me on this one.
Silence. A long one. Ugly.
Don’t.
I know.
Don’t say that and leave.
Don’t make me care where you are.
Worried?
Irritated. I dislike unfinished things.
I’ll come back and let you finish me, then.
You are vile.
The typing bubble appeared. Gone. Appeared. Gone.
Come back.
My ribs tightened around something stupid and dangerous.
Yes, prince.
And Cillian?
Yeah?
If this is another lie, I’ll know.
***
I stepped onto the jet and tossed my bag into the seat across from me. It landed with a heavy thud. The folder inside it still felt like a live grenade.
“Mr. Ashbourne,” the flight attendant said, already pouring my usual whiskey. “Welcome aboard. We’ll be taxiing shortly.”
I dropped into the leather chair, legs spread, and took the glass. The burn slid down my throat as the engines spooled up. Ashbourne crew moved around me, paid to see nothing.
My phone rang. Moonshine. I answered before the first ring finished.
“Moon.”
A shaky breath. Then silence. The plane started rolling. I didn’t care.
“Talk to me,” I said. “What happened?”
Another breath. Rough.
“I… I called him. I wanted to tell him I won.” Moon’s voice cracked. “He gave me an ultimatum. End it with you… or I lose everything. House of Moon. The inheritance. All of it.”
“Moonshine—”
“I don’t know what to do,” he cut in, strained. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to be exactly what they wanted. Now one choice. And it’s all gone. Just like that.”
Silence stretched.
“Are you sure this is worth it? You and me?”
The question cut straight through my ribs. I sat back as the jet lifted off. My voice dropped. “There is no other way. You and me, baby. Leave your father to me.”
Moon let out a strained breath. “Cillian… you’re not going to kill my father, right?”
A rough sound tore out of me.
“Baby, the mafia has lawyers and accountants too. We’re not all just smashing kneecaps. Give me some credit.”
A small, tired laugh slipped out of him. “I swear you take years off my life,” he muttered.
The plane climbed. I kept my voice steady. “Enjoy your night out. Stay out of trouble.”
Moon scoffed. Weak. “You’re telling me to stay out of trouble?”
“Yeah. I am. See you soon, baby.”
“Yeah. See you soon.”
The line went dead.
I stared out the window. Dark clouds rushed past. I’d fix this. For him. Whatever it took.
A few hours later the car pulled up the long gravel drive. Grey stone. Tall chimneys against a flat sky. The front door opened.
Keira caught my arm before I reached the door. “First things first.” Her eyes sparkled. “Did he keep the ring?”
“Complained about it.”
“Obviously.”
“Still wears it.”
“Knew he would.”
Ma appeared right behind her. She pulled me into a crushing hug, then held me at arm’s length, searching my face. “Mo chroí,” she murmured, cupping my cheeks. “Now that’s a new look on you.”
She studied me. Her expression softened. “Never seen you like this about anyone. Not once. So this Hyun-seo… he’s important to you.”
Keira grinned, still holding my arm. “Important enough that Lorcan’s been growling about it for days. Try not to scare the poor boy away when you finally bring him home. We don’t need you making the same stone-faced mistakes your brother does.”
Lorcan muttered from the hallway. “I heard that.”
“You were meant to,” Keira shot back sweetly. “The boy doesn’t need us adding to whatever he’s already dealing with. So feed him. Be nice. Don’t loom over him like a bloody gargoyle. Simple instructions, even for Ashbourne men.”
Rory looked up at me, gap-toothed and grinning. He started shadow boxing right there in the hallway. “Uncle Cil, Da said you’re bringing a boy home. Can he come watch me box? I won on Sunday. Knocked the other lad clean off his feet!”
Keira laughed softly and caught him by the shoulders. “Okay, okay, Rory. Save the championship demonstration for after dinner. You can show Uncle Cil all your trophies later.”
She guided the bouncing kid toward the kitchen.
Ma ignored all of us, already leading me inside with one hand on my back. The smell hit me—beef stew thick with Guinness, soda bread still warm. Proper Irish. Home.
“Sit,” she ordered. “Eat first. Then you boys can go talk your bloody business.”
I dropped into a chair. For twenty minutes the table was loud with the family.
Then the front door opened. Da stepped in. Coat still wet from the rain. Those same sharp green eyes found me immediately.
“Cillian.”
He crossed the room and pulled me into a rough hug, clapping my back hard enough to feel it.
“Good to see you, son.”
“Da.”
He pulled back, studying me. “Heard Carrick’s been giving you trouble at that academy.”
I nodded once. “Declan. And now Ronan.”
Da’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “We’ll handle it. Ashbourne way.”
After dinner the house went quiet. That deceptive quiet only old mafia homes know. Ma kissed my cheek. “Don’t stay up too late.” Keira steered Rory upstairs. Lorcan jerked his head toward the study. The heavy oak door clicked shut behind us.
I dropped the folder on the desk. It landed with a dull thud. Lorcan didn’t touch it right away. He poured two glasses of whiskey, slid one toward me, then sat and opened the file.
Page after page. Lorcan’s thumb paused on Seamus Carrick’s name. Then on Moon’s. His jaw tightened. When he hit Sawyer Whitlock’s name, Lorcan set his glass down hard.
“This isn’t great,” he said flatly. “I won’t lie.”
My hands flexed harder. “I need it gone. Every copy. Every scan. Every fucking trace.”
Lorcan leaned back. “Carricks I can handle. They’re loud and stupid.” He tapped the folder once. “But Whitlock? Evan Whitlock’s kid. That family doesn’t dump bodies. They make sure no one ever finds one.”
He shut the folder.
“You start pulling that thread, you might drag half this academy down with it. People we can’t afford to touch right now.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the academy,” I growled. “I care about Moon. I need his name away from Seamus Carrick. That’s it.”
The door opened. Da stepped in. He poured himself a glass and sat.
Lorcan stared at me for a long beat.
“You took a Writ on the boy you decided to keep,” he said. “That wasn’t romance. That was fucking stupid.”
My jaw tightened until it hurt.
“And now you want me to bury the same weapon you agreed to use on him.”
“I’m asking you to protect family.”
Lorcan’s face stayed hard, but something shifted behind his eyes.
He looked at Da. “Will you talk some sense into him?”
“I don’t have time to argue with you,” I said. “I’m flying to New York tomorrow morning.”
Lorcan stared at me.
“Jesus Christ.”
Da took a slow sip. His voice came low.
“Nathaniel Moon won’t be happy you showed up in New York, son.
But family comes first. Always has.” Another sip.
“If you want him to say yes, don’t go as a boy asking for his son.
Walk in as an Ashbourne. Tell Nathaniel Moon that the Ashbourne stands behind House of Moon. He’ll know exactly what that buys him.”
I met his eyes.
Da wasn’t talking about love. He was talking about power.
“Aye.”