31. Fiona
Chapter Thirty-One
FIONA
I’ve been replaying it on a loop since last night.
Not the fact that Lorcan is out for my blood. For some reason, that threat sits tucked away in the back of my mind.
No.
What I can’t seem to let go of is the look on Cormac’s face when he told me Lorcan knew of our plan. The way his jaw tightened. The subtle, accusatory tone of his voice.
Someone told him.
Cormac hadn’t said my name, not out loud, but he hadn’t needed to.
I tell myself I’m being unfair, that he was angry and exhausted and running on adrenaline.
But the truth is uglier and harder to swallow. The thought that I betrayed him crossed his mind, and once it takes root, it doesn’t just disappear.
I’ve spent weeks proving myself not just to him but to his brothers. I’ve bled for them, lied for them and walked willingly into a trap that could have gotten me killed, and still, when something goes wrong, I’m the first one to blame.
At what point do I decide enough is enough?
I move through the house on autopilot, the low hum of voices and footsteps following me down the hall.
Everyone is tense and coiled tight, waiting for the next shoe to drop, and they’re not the only ones.
If Cormac truly believes, even a little, that I’m capable of betraying him, then we’re already fractured, and I won’t live in that gray space where I’m trusted on good days and doubted on bad ones. We can’t be a team without trust, and if he can’t give me that, I need to know now.
I rehearse the conversation in my head three different ways before I even reach Kieran’s office, and none of them end well.
In the first version, Cormac listens. He takes my hands, looks me in the eye, and tells me he’s past it, that I don’t need to keep proving myself.
I imagine the tight line of his jaw relaxing, the corners of his mouth turning up, a flicker of the man I fell in love with softening in the middle of all this chaos.
In the second, he doesn’t say much at all. He simply nods and changes the subject, which somehow feels worse. The silence lingers, a reminder that the past doesn’t just vanish because I want it to.
In the third, he gets angry and defensive and ends up saying something that cuts deeper because it’s rooted in truth.
I stop outside the door, my fist hovering as I consider walking away.
I know my timing is bad. I can feel it in my bones.
The house has been buzzing all morning with men coming and going, their footsteps muffled but insistent. But if I don’t say something now, I never will, and I can’t keep living with this knot in my chest, wondering if the next argument will be the one where everything comes back up again.
I knock once and push the door open.
Cormac is standing over Kieran’s desk, his phone pressed to his ear and his shoulders rigid.
Brennan is leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed, and his jaw tight.
Whatever they’ve been discussing, it’s clearly not good.
Cormac glances up when he sees me, then looks away just as quickly. “Can this wait?”
Something in his tone makes my stomach drop. “I—Is everything okay?”
He exhales sharply and pulls the phone away from his ear. “No.”
“Have you heard from Lorcan?”
Cormac shakes his head.
“Adrian.”
Adrian?
My heart starts to pound. “What does he want?”
Cormac decides to end the call and tosses his phone down on the desk before straightening. When his eyes meet mine, I almost stumble back at the rage flickering in them.
“He wants Scout. And not just visitation rights. He wants custody.”
The room seems to tilt.
“That’s…that’s insane!” I manage. “He can’t just—”
“He can. And he will. He’s already making moves to make it happen.”
Brennan pushes off the wall and comes to stand beside his brother. “We’ll deal with it.”
Cormac nods, but he doesn’t look convinced.
His hands curl into fists at his sides, like he’s holding himself back from breaking something.
I swallow hard, forcing my own fear down.
Whatever I came in here to say suddenly feels selfish in comparison to the battle Cormac is facing.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“It’s fine,” Cormac says, though it clearly isn’t. “I’ll handle it.”
I step closer. “How can I help? Tell me what I can do.”
Cormac studies my face for a long moment, like he’s weighing something.
“Keep Scout distracted. The less he knows, the better.”
“Of course,” I say immediately, but then a thought has me hesitating. Cormac must see it on my face as he frowns.
“What?”
“Are you sure…” I begin carefully. “Are you sure that there’s no way to talk to him? To Adrian, I mean.”
“What is there to talk about?” he snaps, and I flinch.
“I just…” I choose my words slowly. “If Adrian is his grandfather—”
“He doesn’t get to be. They might share blood, but that means nothing when he is the reason Scout’s mother is dead.”
His words feel like a slap in the face, but I don’t back down.
I can see it in Cormac’s eyes that he’s panicking, which is completely understandable. Someone is attempting to take away his son.
But that means he’s also not thinking rationally or clearly.
“I’m not saying he deserves anything. I’m just asking if cutting him off completely is what’s best for Scout. Not for you, but for him.”
I catch the muscle in Cormac’s jaw flex as he balls his hands into fists.
I already know I’ve crossed a line, but it’s clear from the dark shadows under his eyes that he is sleep-deprived, and therefore not thinking straight.
“Don’t question my parenting.”
“I’m not. I’m trying to help—”
“You don’t get to tell me how to protect my son.”
The words sting more than I expect.
I keep my voice steady, though my hands are shaking. “Cormac, I’m on your side.”
“I know.” He’s already looking down at his phone again.
“Do you?”
Cormac stiffens. “This isn’t up for debate.”
Brennan murmurs something under his breath, and Cormac turns away as he makes another call, as if I’m not even in the room.
Part of me wants to snatch the phone out of his hand and force him to talk to me, but Cormac is shut down right now and sealed tight. Pushing him would only make it worse.
I back out of the room quietly. Strangely, my chest feels tight, and yet my head feels clearer than before.
We might have just argued, and Cormac might have raised his voice, but for once, he didn’t throw my past in my face, and that realization gives me a flicker of hope.
The house is louder than it was a moment ago, and I head toward the stairs to find Kieran already halfway down them with Aubrey’s car seat hooked over his arm like it weighs nothing.
She’s bundled up with a tiny knit hat pulled low over her ears, her fists tucked beneath her chin.
Riley trails after him, checking something on her phone while juggling a nappy bag that looks fit to bursting.
Ronan appears from the kitchen, carrying a sleeping Nico while Ciara wrestles Addison into a jacket.
“For the love of God, stop squirming,” Ciara mutters as Addison starts shrieking.
Ronan must feel me staring as he glances up and catches my eye. “We’re heading out.”
I quickly head down the stairs, trying to ignore the surge of panic at the thought of all of them leaving the safety of the house. “For what?”
“Aubrey has a check-up, and the twins are due for vaccines.” Ciara attempts to zip up Addison's jacket, though the toddler is squirming too much. “That’s it, I give up.”
“So, you’re all leaving?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
Kieran adjusts his grip on the car seat. “It’s less risky.”
My stomach tightens.
It doesn’t feel like it.
Ciara scoops Addison up into her arms. “We won’t be long. An hour, maybe two, depending on how this one behaves.”
An hour. Maybe two.
That’s more than enough time for Lorcan to make a move.
“I’ll text you when we’re on our way home,” Riley says, as if sensing my thoughts.
Ronan opens the front door, and the cold February air rushes in.
He pauses with his hand on the handle, scanning the driveway before stepping out.
Ciara and Riley follow with Kieran bringing up the rear.
The door shuts behind them with a heavy finality, and the house immediately feels different.
It’s too quiet, too exposed.
I drift toward the window and peer outside, watching them load into the waiting cars.
Ronan pulls out first, and Kieran follows, with a backup SUV bringing up the rear. Only once they disappear down the drive do I step back, pressing my palm briefly to the glass.
I stay there longer than I mean to, my reflection faint in the window, layered over the empty driveway like a ghost of myself.
For weeks, this house has been full to bursting, which makes the quiet feel wrong, like the pause before a held breath finally gives out.
I hate that my mind immediately goes to the worst-case scenarios. I hate that Lorcan has rewired my instincts so completely that safety feels temporary at best.
I tell myself that this house is fortified. That there are dozens of men posted on the perimeter. That Cormac would never leave us unprotected.
But I also know that Lorcan doesn’t play fair.
I drag my fingers down the glass and force myself to turn away, pressing my back to the wall as I think about what Cormac said.
Keep Scout distracted,
Not keep him safe. Not stay close to him. But distracted, like we’re playing a losing game, and all we can do is soften the blow.
The thought makes my throat burn with bile.
I move through the house slowly, checking doors and peering out windows I’ve already looked through twice.
The rational part of me knows this is pointless, but the rest of me need to keep moving to keep the illusion of control from crumbling.
By the time I climb the stairs, my pulse has finally slowed, though my shoulders remain tight.
I square them anyway and paste on a smile before pushing open the door to Scout’s bedroom.
I find him sitting cross-legged on the floor with a half-finished puzzle of the solar system spread out in front of him.
He looks up when I enter, his face lighting up. “Fiona! Look, I finally finished all the edge pieces.”
I smile as I lower myself onto the floor beside him. “That’s impressive. The edges are the hardest part.”
“Dad says if you do the edges first, everything else is easier.”
Something twists in my chest at the mention of Cormac.
“Your dad is very smart.”
Scout hums, his attention already returning to his puzzle.
I help him sort the pieces, grateful for the distraction and the sense of normalcy, but my thoughts keep getting pulled back to Adrian and Lorcan.
Scout doesn’t deserve to be caught in the middle of this. He’s already lost so much without even knowing it. I wonder what he’ll think one day when he learns how many men fought over him like a prize—
Suddenly, a loud explosion tears through the air, so deafening that the windows rattle.
What the hell was that?
I freeze, overcome with panic, until Scout screams and launches himself into my arms, his small body shaking as he buries his face in my chest.
I wrap myself around him instinctively as my heart pounds.
Outside the door, footsteps thunder down the hall followed by Cormac shouting.
Somewhere, glass shatters, and another loud explosion sounds, causing the house to shake.
“It’s ok,” I whisper as Scout clings to me, even though I have no idea if it is. “I’ve got you.”
As all hell breaks loose around us, every instinct I have screams at me to move, but I can’t.
Whatever war Cormac thinks he’s fighting, it seems it’s already found us.