Chapter 25
Callum
Nemesism (n) frustration, anger, or aggression directed inward, toward oneself and one’s way of living
We’re driving through the city far faster than we should be.
Ronan is swerving and weaving in and out of traffic as horns blare left and right.
Maeve is beside me in the backseat, her posture straight and rigid.
She’s trying hard to hide it, but she’s clearly nervous.
I place a hand on her bobbing knee, and she takes in a long breath, uncrossing her arms and leaning into my side.
I angle myself toward her and lift her chin with a fingertip.
She’s slow to meet my gaze, but when she does, I can see the fear there.
On any normal day, this drive feels like it takes no time at all, but even the driveway feels mundane and pressing.
I lean over and look at the speedometer.
Ronan is really pushing the limits. The gate to my father's estate is three-quarters of the way open as we turn in. Ronan doesn’t let up as he squeezes the truck through the tight space.
As soon as the truck comes to a stop in front of the looming ebony and brass doors, Maeve pulls in a deep breath as she squeezes my hand before unbuckling.
There are more men than usual roaming the property.
The two men at the doors step aside, and we walk in without skipping a beat.
The four of us come to a stop in front of Lorcan.
He’s standing in the middle of the foyer, hands in his pockets, shoulders tense and face serious, as always.
He pulls his hand from his pocket and extends it, reaching for mine.
I shake his hand and give him a slight nod, our normal greeting during tense situations.
He’s a big reason I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere.
Orin, Ronan, and Lorcan had an intervention of sorts years ago to pull me out of the bottomless pit I had drunk myself into.
It ended in a few black eyes and busted lips, mine included.
Nonetheless, Lorcan had, over the years, become someone I trusted implicitly.
He’s rock steady, and his presence here helps calm my nerves a bit.
17 Years Old
Thwack!
My head felt like it was on the brink of exploding.
Pop!
Lorcan’s glove made contact with my cheek, and it pulled me back to the present. Every time I had a night of heavy drinking, Lorcan would wake me early and make me pay for every drink one by one.
I didn’t care.
I liked the pain.
I liked being able to feel anything but numb.
Drinking either made me forget or made me violent.
Last night, I was violent. Ronan was sporting a busted lip, and based on the look he gave me this morning, I knew it was my fault.
I didn’t know if it was by my fist or by another after I provoked another.
I felt bad, but not enough to keep me from picking up the next drink.
“Keep your hands up, gobshite!” Lorcan was getting more agitated with every hit. I kept my hands up, but I was slow.
“I AM!” I yelled back at him, the anger causing me to drop my hands.
Pow!
He popped me on the jaw, and I hit the floor.
I gasped when the ice water made contact with my skin.
As I was wiping my face to clear the moisture, a towel flew into my chest with surprising force.
So, he’s still angry, I thought to myself as I wiped my face.
I was sitting in the middle of the floor, resting my elbows on my bent knees, my head hung low.
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the sudden emotion to dissipate. I refused to cry in the gym.
Too many men. Too many eyes.
“Oi, clear out!” I heard Lorcan order the men in the room to disperse. “Light a fire under yer arses!”
I could hear their feet move faster, bags being slung, keys jingling. It was silent for a while before he placed his hand on my shoulder, and I shook my head. I didn’t want to look up, but his grip tightened. Reluctantly, I looked up, but it wasn’t Lorcan.
“What are you doing here?” I said as I attempted to get to my feet. “Who’s watching Maeve?”
Orin kept a hand on my shoulder, forcing me to stay down.
“She’s with her dad at the moment, and will be for a few hours.” His words didn’t comfort me all that much, but I couldn’t help it. The only comfort in this shit-show that was my life was knowing she had Orin looking after her.
“That doesn’t make me feel any better about it,” I said, shrugging his hand away. I struggled to my feet, and just as I stood, the door swung open. Thadg and Ronan came strutting in, and I groaned inwardly.
I couldn’t do this right now.
“Oi,” Thadg coaxed, his voice surprisingly soft for someone so gruff. I stopped walking and hung my head as my chest rose and fell. Keeping the emotion in was becoming a losing battle. With one hand on my hip and the other pressing into my eyes, I attempted to hold it together.
“Cal,” Ronan started, but I swatted his hand away after he placed it on my arm.
“Just fucking stop. Leave me alone,” I croaked.
“Look, man, it’s just us.”
I turned to look at them, and I knew they’d be able to see how hollow I felt. But I didn’t want to hear any words of encouragement. I didn’t want to hear shit.
“What? You wanted to talk so badly, so FUCKING WHAT?” I shouted, throwing my hands in the air.
Orin and Thadg sat on the edge of a table, arms crossed over their chests, looking concerned.
“You’ve got to let it out, man,” Thadg said softly.
“I don’t know what to do,” I said, my voice breaking. “I don’t know what to do without her.”
“We know, man,” Orin assured quietly. But he got to see her every day, while I had to watch from a distance.
I couldn’t stand it.
I did my best not to hold that against him because he was one of the few people I trusted, especially when it came to Maeve’s safety. There was no one better.
“She isn’t happy, either—” Thadg began, but Orin’s stern expression silenced him.
“What is going on?” I demanded.
“Maeve went on a… date,” Orin said, raising his hands placatingly.
I stumbled back a few feet before my back made contact with the wall, and I slid down. My mind was vacant of anything for a heartbeat, then I slammed my head against the cement wall hard enough to send the original headache away and replace it with a new one.
“Fuck, man,” Ronan swore as he walked over to me with a towel.
“If you had let me finish,” Orin said with a raised brow.
“Nessa set her up on a double date. She only went to get Nessa off her back. She hated every second of it. I stayed close by. Thadg did, too. We took her home before it was even over. Nessa didn’t let her leave without a fight, but Thadg put himself between Maeve and the guy.
That’s when the guy decided it was time for him to leave, too. ”
A tear slipped down my cheek. Part of me was glad that she hated it. But I wanted her to be happy, whether it was with me or not.
I feel a hand grasp my forearm. I glance down to see Maeve staring up at me, concern in her eyes.
Leaning over, I place a kiss on her hairline and wrap my arm around her, pulling her into my side.
Orin clears his throat from down the hall, breaking us from our solitude.
I cut my eyes toward him, and he nods as he opens the doors to my father's office.
Maeve takes a steadying breath, standing tall as we walk in.
I squeeze her hand three times, and she does the same in return.
My face shows nothing more than a schooled calm as I scan the room.
Everyone there is a trusted individual within both families.
The heavy doors close behind us with a click that echoes in the solemn silence.
Maeve releases my hand and walks to her father, his arms outstretched to embrace her in a hug.
I don’t know who is more shocked, me or everyone else in the room.
Ever since Imogen passed, he has been a shell of a man, cold and distant.
He hasn’t shown much emotion past disdain in a decade and a half.
His mood at dinner earlier this week had been a shock, but this has every person in the room exchanging looks as if we are all seeing the same hallucination.
I hear Maeve sniffle as she squeezes him a little tighter before he releases her.
She strolls back toward me, her eyes filled with unshed tears. I hold my hand out for her, meeting her halfway. Her other hand grabs my bicep as we walk toward a large conference table, just large enough for all of us to be seated. Two of the chairs are empty.
The chair on Cormac’s right side would forever remain empty.
It only took one footman to make the grave mistake of sitting in Imogen's chair. The poor bastard couldn’t see for a week after Cormac was finished.
It took Lorcan, Cian, Eion, and my father to separate them.
At that time, I didn’t have a seat at the table yet.
Ronan and I sat on a couch on the other side of the office, playing Uno and watching the beating with fascination.
I had never seen Cormac so angry before.
But now, when I look at Maeve, I understand. I understand that the loss of her would ruin me for eternity.
I pull out her chair, allowing her to sit before I sit to her left.
My mother is sitting to my left, and my father sits at one end of the table, Eoin on his left.
I lock eyes with Orin, who is seated on Maeve’s right, and we exchange a knowing nod.
This conversation will not be a reunion, but all business.
Cormac is sitting on Cian’s right, at the other end of the table, and Lorcan is sitting to the right of Imogen’s chair.
Ronan is sitting across from me, with his father on his right, and an empty chair between him and Lorcan.
Every seating position holds meaning. Decades of fights, struggles, and scars simmer here amongst us.
I catch Cian staring at Imogen’s chair for a pregnant moment.
He still feels guilty about that night. Orin leans over to whisper something in his ear, breaking Cian from the place he had been pulled to. His face is a mask of indifference.
Cormac’s body language speaks volumes. His jaw is clenched, muscles taut. Anger is simmering on the surface, ready to erupt. It’s a stark difference from his demeanor when we first arrived.
My father clears his throat, pulling all of our gazes toward him.
“We all know why we are here, so let’s cut to the chase,” he says, then clears his throat again, reaching up to touch it, as if in need of something to soothe it.
My mother hands him a glass of water, and he nods in thanks to her as he sits down.
He takes a drink, then reaches for her hand, their fingers intertwining effortlessly.
Eoin stands and begins to speak. This is new, I think with interest.
“We have very little footage from the warehouse. It looks like someone knew where to look to dismantle and erase everything past the time that Nessa was dropped off. Speaking of,” Eoin says, looking to Maeve, “anything we should know about, Bláthnat?” The slightest grin crosses her lips at the nickname he had given her when we were hardly out of diapers.
Little Flower. He adores her as much as the rest of us.
Maeve recounts the course of events that transpired, not just today, but over the last nine years, with every detail she can recall.
Everyone in the room grows angrier by the second.
I look at Cormac, who is now a bright shade of red.
When she finishes, I fill them in on some missing bits of information.
As soon as I finish, the room is silent for a few heartbeats as everyone soaks in what we’ve told them.
“Get some men to go pick Liam up now,” Cormac bites out roughly, breaking the silence. We all look at him with confusion. “I need to find out how much of this he knew.”
I feel Maeve tense. She squirms in her seat, a wary look in her eyes. Something’s wrong. I lightly tug at her arm, and she looks up, catching my eyes. A barely detectable jerk of her head tells me she doesn’t want to talk about it here.
I stand from my seat, pulling Maeve with me.
“Son, we aren’t done talking. Sit back down,” my father demands.
“We’ll be right back,” I say, guiding Maeve toward the door with a hand on her elbow.
I don’t look back at the room, but I’m sure all eyes are on us.
This isn’t done during business meetings.
One doesn’t simply get up and walk out, especially a young gun like me.
There’d probably be hell to pay later on.
But they should know I wouldn’t walk out without a good reason.
And I have a very strong feeling that whatever Maeve is about to tell me will more than justify our exit.
We stride down the hall and around the corner to a half bath.
It’s far enough away from the meeting to guarantee us some privacy.
“Maeve,” I say, my voice rough.
The hairs on the back of my neck raise along with my anger as the words fall from her lips.
By the time she finishes, my mind is already made up.
I am going to tear that motherfucker apart, limb by limb, and his piece of shit daughter Nessa alongside him.