Sera
A few days earlier
“Come on, fuck-face, untie me.” I wriggle my wrists, dragging a raw rope burn across my skin. “Or are you scared a woman will beat the shit out of ya?”
Rain hammers the iron roof above us, turning the old barn into a metal drum full of damp bales, ancient machinery and two dickheads who think black ski masks make them brave.
“Fuck up, Tallon,” the taller one snaps.
The single bulb above me swings from a warped beam, light spilling over the dusty concrete floor, highlighting the wet tracks my boots made when they dragged me in here.
My hair sticks to my cheeks, and goosebumps cover my bare arms because my coat is still in the passenger footwell of my car, along with the yard keys and my phone.
“You’re on the Harrington payroll, right?
” I ask, still twisting my wrists so the rope bites deeper but doesn’t give.
“Bringing me to a shitty barn instead of putting a bullet in my head on the road tells me someone wants to send a message, and Alasdair never gets his hands dirty unless there’s applause waiting. ”
The shorter guy steps in fast and jams the barrel of his gun under my chin, forcing the muscles in my throat to pull tight as I strain against it.
“Keep bitchin’ all ya want,” he grits. “You’re not going anywhere unless it’s an early grave.”
Charming.
I hold his stare through the holes in the mask and spit at him.
When he moves back, I swing my knee up and catch his balls. The hit makes him grunt as he creases forward.
“You’ll need the grave,” I laugh. “I’m not going anywhere quietly.”
Pride is a stupid thing to keep feeding when I’m hung from a hook, but I’ve never been good at letting it starve.
The other guy comes closer next, but the barn door slides open before he does anything.
Wind whips up the rain, pushing it inside so the bulb swings like a pendulum.
Both men straighten on instinct and that gives away more than the expensive black dress shirt, tailored trousers, and build of the third masked man walking toward us.
Rain clings to his shirt as he crosses the barn and shoves an old wooden stool closer with the toe of his polished shoe.
In silence, he takes his time to sit in front of me while the other two men wait.
“Watch the lane,” he orders. “Both of you.”
My pulse kicks at the deep tone of his voice, and I hate the little shiver that rushes over my scalp because of the texture of it.
The two men leave, boots scuffing over dirt, and the dusk beyond the door swallows them almost immediately.
Dogs bark somewhere close by, then farther away another dog answers.
From inside the barn, I should hear the regular hustle of a working yard, staff calling out, horses restless in their stalls, engines turning over, but there’s only pelting rain, barking and rusted machinery where a business should be.
This isn’t a ransom lift. It’s personal.
And whoever ordered it is either stupid, desperate, or too protected to care that my three brothers will turn Black Heath inside out once they realize I’m gone.
The man in front of me watches the rope bite deeper instead of telling me to stop yanking.
His dark gaze wanders to my T-shirt, soaked through and hitched high so the skin above my jeans is on show.
His attention stays there while I thrash, then ever so slowly lifts to my face.
“So, the Tallons thought they could snatch Keira Harrington from the gala and there wouldn’t be consequences?”
His voice is rich and familiar, carrying just enough amusement to make my teeth lock.
“I didn’t snatch anyone,” I say. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His head tilts slightly.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Sera Tallon.”
I hate that the mask hides his expression, and all I get are intense dark eyes that scrape over the bruise forming at my cheekbone before flicking to the grazed skin on my knuckles, where I caught one of his men in the mouth before they tied my wrists.
“Oh yeah?” I bare my teeth. “And who are you?”
“I’m the one asking the questions,” he says. “If I were you, I’d start talking.”
“What do you want me to talk about?” I ask, twisting my wrists again, because if he’s focused on my mouth, he might not be watching my hands.
“The horrendous weather we’re experiencing this evening?
Or shall we go deeper into the sad little psyche of a man who needs a mask before he can act big and powerful? ”
His laugh is deep and rough enough to hold my attention, and I hate that I noticed.
“Do the Tallons always talk this much when they’re losing?”
My brows hitch. “Do Alasdair’s men always mistake money for class?”
“You’re deflecting,” he says. “Do you really expect me to believe you had no part in it?”
“I expect you to use your brain, but I’m willing to accept that might be asking too much from a guy like you.”
His eyes narrow when I smile at him.
“That’s a brave tone for someone hanging in my barn.”
“Your barn?” I glance up at the leaking tin, then back at him. “Christ, times must be hard. Are your nice clothes from a thrift store?”
His stare holds on mine, and the lack of reaction annoys me more than a threat would.
“Harringtons don’t send men dressed like you to a place like this unless someone’s embarrassed them,” I say, letting my gaze pass over the open collar of his black shirt and lower to the gold watch half-hidden beneath his cuff.
“So, you’re either his top man, or you’re pretending to be something you’re not. ”
“That attitude will get you in trouble one of these days, Sera.” He says my name as if he owns the sound of it, and my fingers curl.
I lift my chin and stare right at him. “Take off the mask and say that again.”
He leans forward on the stool, elbows resting on his thighs. “You think my face changes your situation?”
“I think a man who hides is weak.”
Outside, a dog barks again, and somewhere past the barn, a man shouts for it to shut up.
I drag a breath through my nose. “I grew up with three brothers. I can handle you.”
He checks his watch with an air of boredom, then pins me with those dark eyes of his. “Can you?”
I glare at him. “Take it off.”
For a moment, he gives me nothing but the blank black shape of the mask and those eyes fixed through it.
Then he rises, and my pulse picks up.
In a few strides he’s before me, close enough for his body heat to press against the wet chill around my skin and for his clean scent of rain-soaked cotton and expensive whiskey to reach me through the barn rot.
“Say please.”
“That word isn’t in my vocabulary,” I say. “But fuck you and dickhead are right at the top, if you’re taking requests.”
The corners of his eyes crease. “You always this mouthy when you’re at someone else’s mercy?”
“Only the ugly ones.”
His hand closes around my jaw before I can pull another breath, firm enough to still me, careful enough that I can’t call it pain. “Then you should hope I keep the mask on.”
“Nah,” I counter. “I wanna see the coward hiding behind a stupid balaclava because he’s too scared to own his mistake.”
“Mistake?” he says, bringing his face closer. “The last man who spoke to me like that left this yard in the back of a livestock trailer.”
“Wow… A coward with threats. How original.” I strain away. “Then by all means, please show me your face so I can add ugly to your assets as well.”
When he releases me, he slides his fingers under the edge of the mask and drags it off.
I expect power to come with it, a rush of satisfaction and the clean little victory of making a man obey me, but then Fionn Vaughn Harrington is standing in front of me with his dark hair mussed from the ski mask and a shadow along his jaw, and the victory withers before I can enjoy it.
Of all the Harrington men Alasdair could have sent, he chose his son, the one I’ve only ever glanced at because I was never allowed to stare too long.
And God, his face isn’t the only issue, I tell myself, even as my throat tightens around the lie. It’s the fact that a man like him knows exactly what his looks can excuse, and I’ve spent my life hating his family.
“There,” he says, dropping the balaclava onto the stool. “An informed insult is always better. And you being here is a serious fucking problem for you.”
His sleeve rides up when he runs a hand through his hair, and I catch the edge of a tattoo curling around his wrist.
I’ve seen him across rooms before, across wakes and hotel bars, but never this close. Tallons and Harringtons never share the same space for long.
My fingers flex above my head, useless and half-numb, and his eyes follow the movement before settling on the rope cutting into my wrists.
“Has the penny dropped?” he asks. “Your brothers kidnapped my sister, and now you’re out here in the middle of nowhere with me.”
“Am I meant to be impressed by your big villain reveal?”
He shakes his head, all amusement gone. “Brave, considering you don’t know what happens next.”
“Ya think?” I hiss. “How about you untie me, and we’ll see how that plan of yours unfolds. I’ll have ya face down in the dirt, Fionn.”
His mouth curves and his cheek dimples. “All that fighting talk just to convince me you’re not afraid.”
“And you’re confusing fear with boredom.”
His gaze drops to my throat, to the pulse giving me away beneath rain-cold skin, and when he looks into my eyes again, the amusement has thinned into something far more certain.
“Then we’ll work on that.”
Fionn steps in and reaches above my head, tugging at the knots. I jerk my knee up, but he blocks the movement with his thigh against mine.
As he stands too close, I turn my face away from his throat because noticing things about a Harrington is unforgivable.
When my arms drop, they’re stiff and achy, though I don’t miss a good opportunity. I clench my fist and swing at him, aiming for his jaw with everything I have.
As if expecting it, he catches both my wrists at once, stopping the punch before it lands.
His grip locks around me, his strength more than I’d anticipated. Locked in place before him, our gazes clash, and a hot thread of fury burns through me.
He angles me around, driving me back until my ass hits a thick post and his body crowds the space in front of mine.
Fionn lowers his face inches from mine. “Point made. Try that again, and I stop being generous.”
His gaze lingers at my mouth for a beat, then returns to my eyes as if he has dragged it back by force.
“Shall we make this interesting?”
“Like your teeth hitting the floor?”
His grip loosens, but he doesn’t let go. “I’ll give you the count of ten.”
My mouth dries.
“To do what?”
“Try to escape,” he says. “I’m giving you a head start.”
“Why?”
I hate that my breath comes faster, that every bruised part of me wakes for the challenge, because I’ve never been good at letting snobby men get the better of me.
“Because you’re so certain you can handle me. And I’m going to prove you wrong.”
I twist my wrists, and he allows the first inch of freedom before trapping me again, making me fight for the rest.
“You won’t catch me,” I grit, hating the roughness in my voice.
“I will.” His eyes stay on mine. “I guarantee it.”
I lean closer, tugging my wrists away from him.
“Even if you do, I’ll win the fight,” I say. “I guarantee that.”
His attention drops to my mouth, and for one reckless second, he smiles as if he knows how fast I’m about to run, the arrogant bastard, and every stubborn part of me locks onto the need to prove him wrong before I’ve even reached the door.
Then I remember who he is and stomp my boot down on top of his shoe, shove past him, and bolt for the barn door.
Behind me, he laughs, and the rumble of it follows me outside.
Icy rain hits my face, and I dart into the yard with my wrists burning, my lungs dragging in wet air, and Fionn Harrington’s voice carrying in the wind behind me.
“Run faster, little wild thing.”
I make it past the barn, past a broken gate, and a machinery graveyard choked with weeds.
The lane ahead is blocked by a moonlit black Range Rover with its lights off and two men standing on either side of it.
When I finally glance over my shoulder, his mask is on, and he’s closing in behind me through the dark, driving me deeper into his territory that he knows how to use against me.
You’ve seen what happens when the Tallons and the Harringtons collide. But that was only the beginning.
Lawless Sinners goes darker, dirtier, and deeper into the war between two families who were never going to leave each other alone.
Don’t stop here.