32. Cormac
Chapter Thirty-Two
CORMAC
The first explosion rattles the windows and sends a shockwave through the floor beneath my boots. The second explosion follows almost instantly, and the floor bucks beneath me as if the house itself is trying to throw me off balance.
For a split second, my brain refuses to accept what’s happening.
This place doesn’t get breached. Not like this. Not ever.
Kieran made sure to turn this estate into a fortress because we all learned that peace is a fragile thing that happens in the gaps between wars. And from the sounds of it, someone has just declared one.
The alarms scream to life, and red strobes flash across the walls, bathing everything in violent pulses of light.
Somewhere, glass shatters, and there’s shouting followed by gunfire.
That’s when my instincts finally slam into gear.
I’m moving before the second blast finishes echoing, my boots pounding against the floor as I tear toward the window.
I reach it just in time to see the gates collapse inward in a mangled, sparking heap of metal, one side torn completely off its hinges.
So much for ram-proof.
Vehicles force their way through the wreckage, the engines screaming and their tires spinning as armed men spill out with military precision.
They fan out fast.
My security detail barely has time to react before the first two men go down.
A cold, vicious clarity hits me at the first sight of blood.
I thought Adrian would come through lawyers and courts to get to Scout. I thought he would want to look like the reasonable one.
Instead, he came through my front gates with guns.
The bastard isn’t trying to win quietly. He’s trying to prove something to me, and this is what happens when you don’t comply.
Rage courses through me, white-hot and blinding.
My hands curl into fists so tight my nails bite into my palms.
He wants my attention? So fucking be it.
I spin toward the door. “Brennan! Call in reinforcements now!”
I don’t wait for his response. I’m already running to find Fiona and Scout.
Ciara, Riley, Kieran, and the babies are all gone, and the thought lands like a small mercy in the middle of chaos.
The house is in lockdown mode by the time I hit the stairs.
Alarms wail.
Footsteps thunder.
Another explosion rocks the estate, even closer this time.
Plaster rains down from the ceiling.
Scout’s room door is ajar.
I skid to a stop and shove it open, my heart slamming against my ribs so hard it hurts.
Fiona is in the corner, her back pressed to the wall, with Scout wrapped tightly in her arms.
His face is buried in her shoulder, his small body shaking so violently it makes me want to vomit.
Her head snaps up when she hears me, but I don’t see any panic in her eyes or manic hysteria. She’s strangely calm.
“I’ve got him,” she says immediately, like she needs me to know. “I’ve got him.”
For one split second, the world narrows to the three of us.
I cross the room in two strides and crouch down so I can wrap my arms around both of them.
Scout’s small fingers are twisted into Fiona’s shirt, and his breath comes in short, hitching sobs he’s trying and failing to hold back.
The sound guts me in a way no bullet ever could.
Fiona’s arms are locked around him, her entire body curved protectively to shield him from the danger.
She didn’t run.
She didn’t freeze.
She stayed.
Something inside my chest fractures.
This is what Lorcan was trying so hard to poison, but there’s no arguing with what I see in front of me. The woman I love is holding my son like she would willingly die before ever letting him go.
I press my forehead to Scout’s hair and breathe him in because I don’t know if I’ll get another chance to do so. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
He doesn’t answer. He just tightens his hold on Fiona.
I look at Fiona then, and hope she can’t see the panic that is clawing its way out of my chest.
“I need you to stay here. Barricade yourself in if you have to. Don’t open the door for anyone but me.”
“Cormac—”
I reach out to cup her face. “I’ll be back. I swear to you.”
She studies my face for a beat, then nods. “I’m not moving.”
Good.
I rise, forcing myself not to linger. Not to kiss Scout’s head again or to touch Fiona’s face, because if I do I might not leave.
I arm myself on the way down the stairs, clocking my handgun, a spare magazine, and a blade.
The weight of the gun in my hand steadies me and sharpens everything into brutal focus.
By the time I burst outside, the estate is a war zone.
Gunfire cracks through the air.
I find Brennan behind the overturned SUV near the fountain, firing with controlled precision, his movements fast and lethal.
“Adrian?” I shout, sliding in beside him.
“Already retreating toward the tree line, but not before trying to make a point.”
I snarl and lean out, firing in controlled bursts.
Two men go down and a third dives for cover.
Brennan points. “Over there!”
That’s when I see him.
Adrian.
He stands near the edge of the chaos, flanked by what’s left of his men. He’s eerily calm, but I know he’s calculating every move we make, watching the house like it’s a chessboard, and he’s already ten moves ahead.
I have a clear shot. It’s a perfect angle. All I have to do is fire and all of this will be over.
My finger tightens on the trigger.
But then Fiona’s voice rings in my ears.
What about what’s best for Scout?
I falter.
I lower my gun.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Brennan barks.
“I have no fucking idea.” I get to my feet and step forward into the open. “Adrian!”
He turns slowly, a smile tugging at his mouth like he’s been waiting for this.
“You’ve made your point. Now back off.”
He studies me for a long moment. “You could have killed me.”
“I know. So could you.”
He glances toward the house. “Is the boy safe?”
The question hits harder than I expect.
“Yes. Because I made damn sure he was.”
Adrian exhales, a long, slow breath. “Then maybe it’s time we talk.”
Brennan swears as he appears at my side, but I don’t dare take my eyes off Adrian.
My ears ring violently from the aftermath of the explosions and adrenaline. Bodies lie where they fell, some of them mine, some of them his, and the reality of that presses heavy against my chest.
This was my home, my son’s home.
Brennan steps closer, his voice low. “Say the word, and I’ll finish this.”
I glance toward the house, toward the room where Fiona is sitting on the floor with Scout shaking in her arms, telling him everything is okay even though it isn’t.
And I realize something terrifying. Even if I kill Adrian right now, this never ends because Lorcan is still out there, and Scout will grow up learning that violence is the only language anyone listens to.
And I’ll have taught him that lesson myself.
“Call them off. Then we’ll talk.”
Adrian lifts up a hand, his gold signet ring glinting in the sun.
The remaining men fall back, and the silence that follows is deafening.
Adrian and I sit across from each other at opposite ends of the dining table like this is a business meeting instead of the aftermath of an attempted siege.
There are no weapons on the table, but we both know we have them within reach.
Brennan stays planted just inside the doorway with his arms crossed, his presence deliberate.
Adrian brings one of his men with him whose eyes never stop scanning the surroundings.
Adrian’s gaze flicks briefly toward the hallway, then back to me. He studies my face like he’s searching for something—a crack he’s hoping to pry open—but I won’t let it show.
“Now we can talk without distractions,” I say.
I catch Brennan shifting his weight, and I shoot him a look to remind him to be quiet.
“You don’t get to dictate the tone in this house, not when you come in all guns blazing. You’re lucky you’re even able to sit in a fucking chair.”
Adrian’s mouth curves into a smile, but there’s no amusement in his gray eyes. “Let’s not confuse restraint with submission.”
I lean forward, pressing my palms flat on the table. “You rammed my gates and sent armed men into my home. The home where my son sleeps.”
“And yet,” Adrian counters, his voice steady. “He wasn’t harmed.”
“That’s not the bar. That’s the bare fucking minimum.”
His eyes harden just a fraction. “You think this ends with me backing off? You think today was about fear?”
“It was about leverage. And it failed.”
Adrian exhales slowly, steepling his fingers. “Everything is leverage. Including you not pulling the trigger when you had the chance.”
Brennan lets out a low laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. You weren’t spared out of mercy.”
Adrian doesn’t look at him. “No. I was spared because Cormac is a father first.”
I don’t react. I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
“You murdered Nadia,” I cut straight through the posturing. “You murdered your own daughter, and you want me to believe you won’t do the same to her son?”
The room goes very still.
Adrian’s jaw tightens, his control slipping just enough for the truth to show. “I lost my daughter.”
“You killed her.”
“I was angry,” he snaps, but he quickly catches himself, his breath hitching. “She betrayed the family. She betrayed me.”
“She was scared. She ran because she knew what you were capable of.”
“Do you think I don’t hear her voice when I close my eyes?”
“That’s not repentance,” I growl. “That’s guilt.”
“And guilt is what keeps me from making the same mistake twice.”
Brennan steps forward a fraction. “You don’t get to frame murder as a learning experience.”
Adrian finally looks at him then, his eyes sharp. “And you don’t get to pretend this world runs on clean hands. Every man in this room has blood on them.”
Silence stretches between us until I’m the one to break it. “People like you don’t change.”
“People like me don’t get second chances. And yet, here I am.”
“You don’t get any authority over my son, do you hear me?”
Adrian’s lips press into a thin line. “And what do I get?”
Nothing.
I suck a breath.
If I don’t give Adrian something to hold on to, he’s only going to keep coming back. He’s already taken Scout once, and I refuse to let him be the one in control of the narrative.
“You get limited visits,” I finally say.
“Cormac,” Brennan hisses, but I hold up a hand.
“But they are supervised and take place on my terms. You don’t show up unannounced. You don’t bring your men, and you sure as hell don’t whisper poison in my son's ear about me or my family.”
“And if I refuse?”
I catch Brennan’s hand drifting toward his weapon, and I shoot him a look.
I turn back to face Adrian. “Then you leave. And the next time you breach my gates, we won’t talk.”
Adrian studies me for a long moment. “You hate me.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“No.”
“And yet, you’re offering me access to the one thing you love most.”
I lean in, my voice low and lethal. “I’m not doing this for you.
I’m doing it because my son will grow up knowing he wasn’t hidden out of fear.
But if you ever prove me wrong, if you ever give me a reason to believe he’s not safe with you, I won’t hesitate to kill you. And believe me, I won’t make it quick.”
Adrian nods slowly. “That’s fair,” he says, lowering his eyes. “I don’t expect forgiveness.”
“Good. Because you’ll never have it.”
“But I have one condition.”
Brennan bristles. “You don’t get—”
“I want him to know who I am when he’s old enough to understand both sides of the story. Not lies or half-truths that you feed him.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
Adrian inclines his head, not in thanks but in acknowledgment.
“This doesn’t make us allies,” he says.
“No. And if you ever use my son as leverage again—”
“Hopefully, I won’t have to. You’re a better father than I was. Don’t waste that.”
Brennan waits until the door closes behind Adrian to speak.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Not even a little bit.”
I have no idea if I just saved my son from a war or started an even bigger one.