Epilogue
CORMAC
It’s been two weeks since the attempt on my life.
So far there has been no follow up attempt. That same weekend I went to check on the supposed shipment I was not supposed to find. I had my father on video conference. Before I even finished going through the crates, my father was already on a private flight on his way to the states.
It seems like the ones who work under him need a little reminder of who the fuck he is.
This time when he gets here I don’t hide away in the mansion but I’m right by his side as we start to reestablish our hold on the underworld.
They were right about one thing. Our empire is getting bigger. The ones trying to go against us should be scared.
Tonight, we’re attending a dinner that I’ve ignored invitations to for years. The O’Sullivan brothers under one roof again, it almost feels impossible.
Declan’s fresh out of prison, looking harder than he ever did before, his smile thin and his eyes sharper. Killian’s already there when we arrive, two women hanging off his arms, both of them dressed in glittering red like ornaments on a tree.
He catches sight of Brenna first. “Look who finally decided to crawl out of his crypt,” Killian calls, flashing me a grin before giving Brenna a more respectful nod. “And the reason he’s actually here. Good to see you again, sister.”
Brenna squeezes my hand and smiles politely, always the perfect balance between warmth and steel.
She looks breathtaking tonight in a black satin dress that hugs her curves, the soft waves of her hair gleaming under the chandelier light.
The bright pink engagement ring shining for everyone to see.
For a moment, even among monsters, she looks like something holy.
Declan raises his glass when I sit down beside him. “Didn’t think I’d see you here, brother. The prodigal son emerges.”
“Not just emerging,” I say. “I’m coming to claim what’s mine.”
There’s a quiet that follows, one that rolls through the long oak table where heads of other families sit, men who have spent years pretending to be allies while plotting in shadows. I can feel the weight of their gazes, the calculation. They think they know me. They don’t.
Dinner is a blur of forced smiles and fake toasts. Declan’s voice is low beside me. “You sure about this?”
I nod. “More sure than I’ve ever been.”
When the last course is cleared and the cigars start coming out, I push back from my chair and stand. The room hushes, the flicker of firelight bouncing off a dozen gold rings and wary eyes. Brenna places a hand on my thigh before I step forward, a silent promise and a warning.
I take the head of the table and let my gaze drag across every face there.
“For years, we’ve all played our parts. We’ve kept our territories, made our trades, and pretended the world couldn’t change,” I start.
“But things are changing. The O’Sullivans aren’t content to sit behind borders anymore.
The empire my father built, the one we’ve strengthened, will not be boxed in.
We will expand, north, south, across oceans if we have to.
Anyone who stands in our way will fall.”
Someone coughs down the table, a nervous tic disguised as noise. I ignore it.
“This isn’t an invitation to talk,” I continue. “This is a warning. You can stand with us, profit with us, or die trying to stop us. Either way, the world will belong to the O’Sullivans.”
The silence that follows feels electric. Some look away. Some meet my gaze with quiet fury. Declan leans back in his chair, grinning like a wolf. Killian whistles low, impressed.
Brenna’s eyes are shining when I glance back at her. She’s proud, fierce and unafraid, her hand resting on her stomach as if grounding herself. I give a short nod to the men around me, signaling that the meeting is over.
Outside, the air tastes cleaner. The night feels sharp, charged with the kind of tension that means war is coming. The car waits, engine humming low. I help Brenna inside, and once we’re on the road, I finally breathe again.
“You did it,” she says softly, her gaze still on the city lights flickering past. “You stood up to them.”
“They needed to hear it,” I tell her. “I’m done waiting for someone else to make a move.”
She nods, but her fingers tighten around mine. “You know what that means, don’t you? After what you said tonight, they won’t take it lying down. You’ve painted a target on your back, Cormac.”
“Let them try,” I say, though the adrenaline hasn’t faded yet. “I’ve been waiting.”
Her voice drops, almost a whisper. “We can’t just think about us anymore.”
I turn to her, ready to ask what she means, when she looks up at me with tear-bright eyes and a trembling smile.
“I’m pregnant,” she says.
For a heartbeat, everything stops. The world narrows to her words, the way her hand moves to her stomach, the soft exhale that leaves her lips. My heart hits once, hard enough to hurt.
“Brenna.”
“I found out yesterday. I wanted to tell you when it was quiet. When it was just us.”
My hand covers hers, and for the first time in a long time, fear crawls up my spine, not the kind that comes from bullets or blood, but the kind that makes a man realize what he has to lose.
I press my forehead to hers. “Then we protect our child. Whatever it takes.”
Her whisper is steady, unshaken. “We’ll have to. Because after tonight, every man in that room will be coming for you, and now, they’ll be coming for us both.”
Outside, thunder cracks over the city, rolling like the promise of war.
And for the first time in my life, I realize this isn’t just about empire anymore.
It’s about survival.