CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Marco
DAWN brEAKS, PALE light seeping through the windows as I stand in the driveway watching the convoy prepare to depart. Three vehicles—a lead car for security, the main SUV carrying Lily and Karen, and a follow car with additional protection. Six of my most trusted men, all armed, all hypervigilant after the events of the past forty-eight hours.
Sasha kneels before Lily, adjusting her coat despite the mild morning. It's not about the temperature, I realize, but about prolonging contact, these final moments before separation.
"Remember our pinky promise," Sasha says, her voice steady despite the emotion I can see in her eyes. "I'll call every day. And I'll come to Kerry as soon as everything is settled here."
Lily nods solemnly, clutching her stuffed rabbit in one arm, Buddy's leash in her other hand. "You promised." Her gaze shifts to me, surprisingly direct for a child her age. "You'll keep Sasha safe, right?"
The simple question carries the weight of absolute trust—trust I'm not certain I deserve, given all I've exposed this child to in recent weeks. But I nod with equal solemnity, understanding the sacred nature of promises made to children.
"With my life," I tell her quietly.
Karen stands nearby, her expression carefully neutral as she watches this exchange. She hasn't spoken directly to me since the attack. But today, she surprises me, stepping forward as the drivers indicate it's time to leave.
"If anything happens to her," she says, her voice low enough that Lily can't hear, "I will never forgive you. And I will make sure Lily never does either."
There's steel in her tone, a fierceness that reminds me suddenly of Sasha. Perhaps it runs in the family, this unexpected courage in the face of threats most people would cower before.
"Fair enough," I acknowledge, respecting the warning for what it is—the protective instinct of family. "But nothing will happen to her. You have my word."
Karen's skeptical expression makes it clear what she thinks of the word of a man like me, but she nods curtly before turning to embrace Sasha one final time.
Then it's time. Lily climbs into the SUV, Buddy jumping in after her with surprising agility for his size. Karen follows, not looking back as the door closes behind them. The security team completes final checks, confirming routes and communication protocols with Tony, who will be tracking their journey remotely.
The convoy pulls away, Lily's small face pressed against the window, her hand waving until the vehicles disappear around the bend in the driveway. Sasha stands motionless, watching long after they've gone from sight.
I move to her side, not touching her, simply offering my presence as silent support.
"They'll be fine," I say quietly. "The Kerry property is completely secure. No one knows about it except Tony and me—not even my father."
She nods, still staring down the empty driveway. "I know. It's the right decision. The only decision, really." She turns to me finally. “But that doesn't make it easy."
"No," I agree. "It doesn't."
We stand in silence for another moment, both understanding that with Lily and Karen's departure, we've crossed a threshold. No more delays, no more distractions. Today, we prepare; tonight, we confront the O'Reillys, my father, and Gerald.
"The team leaders are waiting," Tony calls from the doorway, respectfully maintaining his distance but reminding us of the schedule ahead.
"We're coming," I confirm, offering my hand to Sasha. After a brief hesitation, she takes it, her fingers curling around mine with surprising strength.
Inside, the dining room has been transformed into a tactical operations center. Maps and satellite images cover one wall, surveillance photos another. My core team—Damien, Tony, and four section leaders—stand around the large table where a three-dimensional model of the O'Reilly compound has been constructed with painstaking detail.
Throughout the briefing, Sasha remains silent but attentive, absorbing information with the focused intensity I've come to recognize as her way of processing complex situations.
As the meeting concludes, team leaders disperse to handle final preparations, leaving just Sasha, Damien, Tony, and me with the model of the compound.
"I should check the equipment loadout," Damien says.
As he leaves, Tony follows after a brief nod.
Sasha chews her lip glancing from the model and back to me. She takes in a deep breath as if preparing herself for something. She doesn’t speak for a moment, but I wait and give her time, sensing she needs to say something to me.
"What about us?" she asks. "What happens to us after tonight? After all this is resolved?"
"That depends on what you want," I say carefully, needing her to understand this is her choice as much as mine. "On what you need your life to be, for yourself and for Lily."
"I meant what I told Lily,” she says finally. "That I'll come to Kerry when this is over. But not to stay. To bring her home—wherever home ends up being."
"And where do you want that to be?" I ask. "Where is home for you now, Sasha?"
She meets my gaze directly, unflinchingly. "With you," she says simply. "But not like this—not in a fortress, surrounded by armed guards, jumping at every shadow. That's not a life for Lily. It's not a life for any of us."
The assessment is fair, accurate, and challenging all at once. Because, while I agree with her vision in principle, the practical reality of my position, my responsibilities, makes such normalcy difficult to imagine. The Walsh family business, even reformed along the lines I've been considering, will always attract enemies, always require certain security measures.
"I can't promise you complete normality," I say honestly. "Not immediately. Not until we've stabilized things after tonight, secured our position."
"I'm not asking for immediate," she clarifies. "I understand transitions take time. But I need to know it's possible, Marco, that we're working toward something beyond constant vigilance and violence. That there's an after we're both committed to building."
"I've been thinking about restructuring our business interests," I tell her, sharing plans I've kept mostly private until now. "Accelerating the shift toward legitimate operations we've already begun in certain sectors. Real estate, hospitality, security consulting—areas where our existing resources and connections provide competitive advantages without the constant risk of violent conflict."
Her expression brightens slightly. "That sounds good."
"It won't happen overnight," I caution. "And there will always be elements of our world that remain...complicated. But yes, I believe we can build something different. Something balanced between security and normalcy."
"And Lily?" she presses, the central concern never far from her thoughts. "What kind of life would she have in this transition period? In the 'after' we're working toward?"
It's the question that matters most to Sasha, the one that will ultimately determine her choices regardless of her feelings for me. And rightly so—her sister's well-being must remain her priority.
"Safety without isolation," I say, having given this considerable thought. "The best education, proper security maintained discreetly, a home that feels like a home rather than a fortress. Normal childhood experiences with appropriate safeguards." I reach for her hand, needing the connection for what I say next. "I can't promise there will never be risks, Sasha. That would be a lie. But I can promise that protecting Lily's future—her happiness, her normalcy—will be as important to me as it is to you."
She searches for my face. "Then that's what we build toward," she says, decision made. "After tonight. After all of this is finished."
The moment feels significant, but before I can respond, Tony returns, his expression apologetic but insistent. "Final equipment check in ten minutes, Boss. Damien's waiting."
I nod, acknowledging the interruption while maintaining contact with Sasha for another moment. "We'll continue this conversation," I promise her quietly. "After."
"After," she agrees.
I press a quick kiss to her forehead before I follow Tony out of the room to go over our final plans that could change my future. It’s a future worth fighting for. Worth surviving for.
The final hours before the hit slip by quickly—checking guns, burners, reviewing intel one last time.
"Advance team’s ready," Damien says as twilight creeps in. "Security hasn’t shifted. We're on schedule."
I nod, my eyes narrowing as I mentally run through the plan. "Communication?"
"Lines are secure," Tony replies, voice low, confident. "I'll handle the feeds from the van."
"Escape routes?"
"Three routes ready, cars waiting."
"Doc on standby?"
"Ready and waiting at both extraction points."
Every confirmation brings a little more tension, a little more readiness. No matter how careful the plan, experience whispers the same truth—it always goes sideways somehow. Success comes down to thinking fast when it does.
"Let's go," I say, keeping it simple. The room quiets instantly. Everyone knows what's at stake. "Move out."
We leave in careful order—the protection detail, then the transport team, and finally Damien with his crew. I pause, finding Sasha exactly where she promised she'd be, lingering near the staging area's entrance.
She's wearing dark jeans and a jacket, her expression steady despite the subtle tightness in her posture. No drama, no pleas for caution. Just calm assurance.
"Remember," I say quietly, stepping closer. "You stay with Tony in the van. You don't step foot near that compound."
"I know," she answers evenly. "I'll stay put."
My hand gently touches her cheek. "If things go wrong, Tony's getting you out. No hesitation."
A spark of defiance flashes across her face, but she nods. "I understand."
"Good." I hesitate, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us. "Whatever happens tonight, remember you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
Before she can respond, I kiss her—brief, fierce, leaving everything unsaid clearly understood.
Her eyes are bright when we pull apart. "Come back to me," she whispers. "No matter what."
I nod, accepting her request as a command.
Minutes later, we're rolling out quietly, splitting up and taking different paths to the O'Reilly compound. The command van is discreet, a delivery truck outside, high-tech equipment inside. Sasha sits next to Tony, silent, focused on the screens.
"Tunnel entrance clear," the advance team radios. "No surveillance."
"Check thoroughly," I caution. "Nothing gets missed."
Minutes tick by, tense silence filling the van, until finally: "Tunnel’s clean. No devices."
I glance at Tony; we share an unease— feels wrong, everything is too smooth. But paranoia can't hold us back now.
"Go," I order Damien. "Silent and swift."
"On it," Damien replies coolly.
His team moves fast; quiet updates confirm their progress into the compound. Everything aligns with intel, but my instincts won’t relax.
"Gerald spotted," Damien announces after what feels like an eternity. "Two guards. No sign of father."
"Take them down," I instruct. "Quiet if you can. Get Gerald."
"Copy that."
A tense wait, then: "Guards neutralized. Gerald secure."
Relief washes through the van, short-lived when Damien speaks again urgently: "Gerald demands to talk directly to you. Says it's a setup."
"Put him on," I decide quickly.
Gerald’s voice, strained and weakened, comes through immediately. "Marco, it's rigged. Explosives everywhere. Your father has never been here. They planned for you."
"Why should I trust you now?" My tone is hard, suspicion dripping.
He coughs harshly, pain audible. "They poisoned me. I'm dead either way. Just get your men out."
There's no time for hesitation. "Pull out immediately," I order Damien.
Gerald speaks again desperately. "Take me. I can give you Patrick, everything—but move fast."
I grit my teeth, leaving the choice to Damien. "Your call—get out or risk bringing Gerald."
Damien doesn’t hesitate. "Taking him. ETA three minutes."
We hold our breaths, every second painful until Damien’s next words. "We're clear."
Seconds later, the eastern wing explodes in a roaring blaze of fire and rubble, confirming the truth in Gerald’s warning. My blood chills—so close to disaster.
"Everyone's safe," Damien confirms.
Relief spreads through the van. But I’m already moving, heading to meet Gerald personally.
"Stay with Tony," I tell Sasha firmly. "I'll be back."
"Be careful," she warns softly.
"I will." I offer one last reassuring touch before heading out into the night. Flames still dance on the horizon, a grim reminder that this isn't close to over. Whatever game my father's playing, I'll end it—on my terms.