Chapter 25
Sorcha
Istand there, staring at the door like it’s going to burst open any second with some mysterious executor figure waltzing through with a key to a vault or some cryptic riddle. But nothing happens. The silence stretches out, broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.
“That’s it?” I ask, turning to Alex. “We just wait?”
“Patience, Ms Gannon,” he says, but I catch the flicker of anticipation in his eyes. He wants this reveal as badly as anyone. Maybe more.
“How long are we talking?” Ciar asks, moving to stand beside me. His hand finds the small of my back, a grounding touch that reminds me I’m not alone in this madness.
“Could be minutes. Could be days.” Alex shrugs, infuriatingly casual. “The executor will operate on their own timeline. They’ve had centuries of practice staying hidden. Not to mention, no one actually knows about this yet.”
“Brilliant,” I mutter. “So, we have to go blab it to everyone?”
“The right everyone,” Alex says. “Leave that to me. You four go to lectures and act like nothing has changed.”
“Nothing has changed,” I point out.
Alex’s eyes gleam with something dangerous, something that tells me he knows exactly how much has changed, even if I’m not ready to admit it yet. “Hasn’t it?”
I open my mouth to argue, but Father Murphy clears his throat, already packing up his small book and hastily signed certificate into his worn satchel.
“I’ll file the paperwork immediately,” he says, his weathered face kind despite the chaos he’s just witnessed.
“Congratulations, my dear. May God watch over you both.”
“Thanks, Father,” I manage, watching him shuffle towards the door.
“I’ll escort you back, make sure nothing happens to you on the way,” Alex says, and I gulp. What. The. Fuck?
The moment the door clicks shut, the reality of what I’ve just done crashes over me like a cold wave. I’m married. Legally bound to Axl Rhodes. Lady Rhodes of somewhere or another. I don’t even know! Fuck. What have I done?
“You okay?” Cillian asks, his blue eyes searching my face.
“Yeah,” I lie, then shake my head. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“That’s helpful,” Ciar rumbles, but there’s no heat in it. His hand moves in slow circles on my back, and I lean into the touch despite myself.
Axl steps closer, his green eyes soft in a way that makes my chest tight. “We can undo this after the executor shows. Annulment. Or divorce if we are forced to fuck before this big reveal.”
I stare at him, at the sincerity in his words, which despite the sheer enormity of it, makes me choke on a giggle. “Forced to fuck? Well, gee. How to make a girl feel wanted.”
He smirks. “You know what I mean. I’m not hanging around for weeks waiting for this fucker to make his move.”
“No, neither am I,” I say. “But no. We stay the course.” I watch the flicker of surprise cross Axl’s face before it settles into something warmer, something that makes my stomach flip.
His hand comes up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing over the bruise on my cheekbone with a gentleness that feels at odds with everything we are.
“You’re sure?” he asks, his voice low enough that only I can hear it.
“I’m sure.” And I am. This isn’t about some hidden fortune or power plays anymore.
This is about us. About choosing them, all of them, and having them choose me back.
Not to mention, Cian will have absolutely no excuses now, and neither will any of the other fuckers in this archaic brotherhood.
I’m protected but on my own terms. I trust Axl not to fuck with that.
But if he does, I’ll take him up on that divorce faster than he can blink.
“Good,” Ciar growls from behind me. “Because I’m not letting you out of my sight until this executor shows their face. Too many people want a piece of you.”
“Mickey Ryan,” Cillian adds, his jaw tight. “We need to figure out who hired him and why.”
The mention of the fixer’s name sends a chill down my spine. I’d almost forgotten about him in the chaos of the morning.
“Right,” I say, straightening my shoulders. “So what’s the plan? We just go about our day and hope no one tries to murder us?”
“Pretty much,” Axl says with a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just a regular day at St. Bart’s.”
I snort. “Kind of makes me wish I was going with Annastasia to St. Brid’s.”
Cillian laughs. “I don’t think you’d fit in there, Gannon. You’re a bit too savage for the likes of them.”
His use of my name doesn’t go unnoticed nor unappreciated. I give him a smile. “Too rough and ready?”
“Little bit,” he says. “Perfect for us.”
“Perfect for you,” I repeat and head upstairs to get changed, feeling a weight lift. They aren’t making a thing of this. I’m still just me.
I grab my usual jeans and a hoodie, stripping out of the black dress and hanging it carefully in the wardrobe. The silk feels wrong now, like I was playing dress-up in someone else’s life. The jeans, tee and hoodie are me—comfortable, practical, ready to run or fight at a moment’s notice.
Before I can pull my jeans on, Axl opens the door. He doesn’t speak, but his intention is in his eyes. He kicks the door closed and closes the distance in three strides, picking me up by my waist and slamming me against the wall, his mouth on mine.
“That didn’t take long,” I murmur as he shoves my knickers aside before pulling his cock out of his joggers.
He is inside me without a word, thrusting deep, burying himself up to his balls as I cry out, locking my hands behind his neck for leverage.
His grip tightens on my thighs, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks, and I don’t care.
I want them. I want his fingerprints tattooed into my skin, proof that for once in my life, I made the choice—not fate, not family legacy, not some ancient blood feud—but me.
I can’t form words, can only hold on as he pounds into me with a desperate urgency that matches the chaos churning in my chest. This morning has been insane, but this, right here, grounds me. Reminds me why I said yes.
His mouth crashes onto mine again, swallowing my moans as his pace increases. One hand releases my thigh to brace against the wall, giving him better leverage, and the angle shifts just enough to make stars explode behind my eyelids.
“Fuck,” I gasp, breaking the kiss. “Axl—”
“I know, sunshine. I’ve got you.”
His free hand slides between us, sliding over my clit, and that’s all it takes. I shatter around him, my whole body going rigid as the orgasm rips through me. He follows seconds later, burying his face in my neck as he comes with a groan that vibrates through both of us.
He pulls out and adjusts his clothing after he drops me lightly to the floor. He snaps my knickers back into place and slaps my arse. “Lady Rhodes,” he says. “Keep those knickers, damp with my cum, on all fucking day. Are we clear?”
My eyes flash dangerously. “Call me that again and I will chop your fucking dick off. You get that one and only that one. I’ll do as you say, but you walk around with my cum all over your cock for the rest of the day. Are we clear?”
His eyes darken, pupils dilating with a mix of challenge and arousal that makes me want to both punch him and fuck him again. The corner of his mouth twitches up in that infuriating smirk that’s already become familiar.
“Crystal clear, sunshine,” he says, his voice dropping low. “Though I have to say, threatening my dick while my cum is literally dripping down your thighs is a power move I didn’t see coming.”
I shove him back a step, grabbing my jeans from the bed. “Get used to it. I’m full of surprises.”
He watches me dress with an intensity that makes my skin prickle, but he doesn’t move to help or hinder. Just observes, like he’s cataloguing every movement for later. When I pull my hoodie over my head, he finally speaks again.
“We should get to class. By lunch, every family in Ireland will know.”
“And then the real fun begins,” I mutter, shoving my feet into my boots.
“Exactly.” He opens the door, gesturing for me to go first. “After you, Gannon.”
The use of my name, not some possessive title, settles something in my chest. I step past him into the hallway and descend the stairs, where Ciar and Cillian are waiting.
“Everything good?” Cillian asks, his eyes scanning my face.
“Yeah, we might be filing for divorce after all.”
“Oh, ouch,” Ciar says, looking up at Axl. “You coming?”
“Need to get changed.”
“Not showered,” I snap, turning to jab my finger at him.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he says. “I’ll catch up with you at first class.”
I watch Axl disappear back upstairs, and for a second, I let myself feel the weight of what just happened. Married. To Axl Rhodes. The words don’t quite fit in my brain yet, like trying to shove a square peg through a round hole.
“You really okay?” Ciar asks, his blue eyes boring into mine like he can see straight through the bravado.
“Ask me again and I’ll stab you,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in it.
“Yep, definitely fine,” Cillian says.
“More than fine. Let’s just get through today without anyone trying to kill us. Low bar, I know.”
“With Mickey Ryan lurking around? That’s optimistic.”
We head out into the drizzle, the grey morning matching my mood. The campus is busy, students shuffling between buildings with their heads down against the weather.
“Think anyone knows yet?” I ask as we cut across the quad.
“About the wedding?” Ciar shakes his head. “Not yet. But they will by lunch.”
“Can’t wait,” I say dryly.
We reach the main building, and I spot Annastasia near the entrance, talking to a group of girls I don’t recognise. She catches my eye and gives me a subtle nod before returning to her conversation. At least I don’t have to worry about her making moves on me.
Axl joins us moments later and takes my hand, leading the way to Irish Literature, when an announcement comes over the intercom.
“Sorcha Gannon, please report to VC Smythe’s office immediately,” Emma’s voice rings out across the campus.
I freeze mid-step, my hand slipping from Axl’s as every eye in the corridor swivels toward me. The announcement echoes through the stone halls, Emma’s voice sickeningly sweet as it repeats my name like a death knell.
“Great,” I mutter and turn on my heel to head for Smythe’s office.
“Whoa,” Cillian says, grabbing my hand. “You aren’t really going, are you?”
“Not alone, she’s not,” Ciar says and practically shoves me forward with him practically stepping on my heels, he is that close.
I don’t argue because, honestly, having them at my back makes me feel safer, even if I’d never admit it out loud. We navigate through the corridors, students parting like the Red Sea as we pass. Whispers follow in our wake, but I keep my chin up and my eyes forward.
“Bet this is about the marriage,” I mutter more to myself. “Probably needs to change his paperwork.”
The guys don’t answer me. Yeah, it’s a reach, I know it, and they know it.
When we reach Smythe’s office. Emma is perched at her desk, tapping away at her keyboard with that warp speed she has, like she doesn’t have a care in the world. She glances up as we approach, her smile saccharine sweet.
“Go right in,” she says.
I glance at Axl, and he nods. I walk up to the door and knock before pushing it open.
Crossing the threshold, I see Smythe’s massive desk and his office chair turned to face the wrong way and my blood chills.
I gulp and enter further, the guys right behind me, one of them closing the door behind us.
Striding behind Smythe’s desk, I grunt when I see him slumped in his chair, garrotted to death and I push the back of the chair, so it swings around to show the guys.
“Fuck,” Ciar mutters.
I stare at Smythe’s purple face, the wire still cutting deep into his throat, his eyes bulging like they’re about to pop out of his skull. Blood has trickled down his collar, staining his expensive shirt dark red. He’s been dead for a while. Long enough for the body to start stiffening.
“Don’t touch anything,” Axl says, his voice sharp.
“Wasn’t planning on it.” I take a step back. This is a message. Someone wanted us to find him like this.
“Mickey Ryan’s work?” Cillian asks.
“I would start with Emma,” I mutter.
Axl raises an eyebrow and lunges for the door, yanking it open, to find Emma missing.
Of course.
“Fuck,” I say, pushing past him. “What the fuck is this?”
“Good question,” Ciar says as a light flashes on the switchboard. “But something tells me we are about to find out.”
“Answer it,” Axl says as I just stand there, dumbstruck.
I reach out and hit the flashing button as I lift the receiver, my hand steadier than I feel.