Liam
I don’t knock when I approach my old house.
Neither does Da. He walks in like the place is his—and I guess, technically, it is.
Ryan’s on the couch, laptop on his knees, twitchy as hell.
He’s tapping his middle finger against his thumb in a quick, rhythmic stutter.
Shit. The speed of the motion indicates a pending panic attack.
Which makes sense, considering the most feared man in our organization just showed up to check his math.
“Ryan.” I use the voice I reserve for skittish animals and my baby brother. Calm. Low. Steady. He doesn’t answer, but the tapping slows.
“I’m here.” I sit down on the coffee table across from him, blocking his line of sight to Da. “You’ve got this.”
He breathes out a shaky exhale and finally glances up. Just for a second. “Did you tell him I’m not stupid?” The words are low. Hoarse. My heart clenches with them.
For the millionth time in my life, I want to punch my father in the face. Instead, I smile. “Hey.” Ryan meets my eyes again. Briefly. “You’ll show him.”
Ryan nods once and flips the screen toward Da.
His voice is fast, hyper, as he explains, “This is the sandbox server. I’ve mirrored the Greeks’ financial traffic for the last seventy-two hours.
They don’t even know it. I’ve also flagged over two hundred transactions that tie into trafficking, specifically any account routing through shell entities tied to certain IPs and intermediary clearinghouses that use laundering obfuscation tactics I—”
“Ryan,” I cut in gently. I put my hand on his knee and he startles. “Maybe just…show him.”
Right. He takes an audible breath and taps a few keys. Da steps forward. I watch him lean down and squint at the web of interconnected lines and cascading numbers like he’s trying to make out meaning in a foreign language. Because, to both of us, it is.
A long moment passes before he grunts. “So, Bobby was chasing a trail they fed us.”
Ryan finally lifts his chin. “They built him a fake path to keep him occupied. It was good. Took me a while to find the decoy. But I did.”
Da rubs the back of his neck. “And now?”
“I’m in.” Ryan clicks. The display shifts to a dashboard of real-time balances and account flows. “They’ve got over three hundred million in liquid assets tied to their US operations in these accounts. Double that when you count pending transfers in escrow.”
Da crosses his arms. “You want me to believe this is secure?”
“It’s secure,” I say, voice firm. “And it’s his. All of it. He got us in. We can see where it’s going, we can trace how they pay off officials, how they move girls, how they build new laundering structures before they even lock them down. Bobby never got close to this.”
Ryan flinches slightly at the name. Da notices.
“Bobby was good,” Da says carefully. “But you… I’m told your brain works differently. Took me too long to realize that.”
Ryan’s mouth opens, then closes. He looks to me. I give him a nod.
Da clears his throat. “You’ll start part-time. Full-time after you graduate. We’ll figure out pay later.”
A full body tremor shakes my brother. “You—you want me to work for the clan?” He doesn’t meet my father’s eyes, but we both know whom he’s speaking to.
My father chuckles. “Well, want is an interesting word choice, son. I’m ordering you to work for the clan as your boss, not your Da. I’ll get Bobby sorted later.”
I grin at my brother. It doesn’t escape my notice that my father just respected him as our boss, but also called him “son.” That shouldn’t be a big deal, but for Ryan, it is.
Ryan nods slowly, then refocuses on the screen. “What do you want me to do first?”
“Every dollar connected to trafficking?” I say. “Move it. Freeze the rest if you can, but I want the trafficking accounts gutted. Gone. Now.” I smile as I think of how much Taryn would like that.
Ryan starts typing. My father stays quiet. I half expected him to start barking orders, but no. He just watches my brother work, eyes sharp, mouth set in a line that looks more like thought than judgment.
It’s…shocking. Not his reaction—but mine.
Because I’m not pushing this out of obligation.
I’m just not babysitting Ryan, or shielding him from Da, or covering for a mistake.
I’m leading. I’m protecting. And fuck me, it feels right.
Like maybe this is what I should’ve been doing all along.
Not trying to avoid my future. Not even trying to win my father’s respect by copying him—but earning it by doing what he never could.
Taking care of people in a way that makes them stronger, not smaller.
My father glances at me. Nods once. And for the first time in my life, I think he might see me the way I’ve always wanted him to.
I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I pull it out to see Rowan’s name lighting up the screen.
“What’s up?” I answer, stepping into the kitchen for a bit of quiet.
Rowan’s voice is tight. Controlled. “Gráinne hit her distress signal.”
I go cold. “What are you talking about? Where?” What fucking distress signal?
“Campus. East quad. GPS is bouncing around, but it’s definitely there. It means she’s fucking running.” His voice is strained. “I’m only a few minutes out.”
“Luca?” If she has a distress signal, there’s no way that beast isn’t also receiving it.
“Probably closer, but I’m not waiting.” The whine of Rowan’s engine is clear through the call. “She pressed it. That’s all I need.”
I turn on my heel and stride back to the living room. “I have to go. Taryn’s still on campus.”
Da raises a brow. “What happened?”
“Rowan’s sister. She hit her panic button. She was supposed to be with Taryn. Might be connected.”
Da doesn’t hesitate. “Let’s go.”
We’re only five minutes away, and I explain quickly that the signal came from the east side of campus as we pile into one of the black SUVs parked outside.
Darragh slides behind the wheel and I don’t argue.
As the car tears out of the driveway, I lean between the seats and reach for the lockbox I know one of my father’s men keeps stashed under the console.
“Give me the SIG.”
There’s a beat of hesitation—enough to piss me off—before Da’s voice cuts in beside me.
“Liam,” he says tightly, “you’ll want to take in the scene before you do anything stupid. You get caught on campus with a firearm and you’ll be expelled before your last semester’s even over.”
I whip my head toward him. “This isn’t about school.”
His eyes narrow, like he’s trying to read how far gone I am. I don’t give him the chance.
“It’s my wife.” My voice is low and hard. “If something happens to her—if I’m too late—I will burn that entire fucking school to the ground. What would you do if it were Mom?”
He doesn’t answer right away.
My hands are fists at my sides. My whole body’s coiled tight, buzzing, like I could tear the car apart with my bare hands if it got me there faster. I’m not thinking about grades or headlines or fallout. I’m thinking about Taryn. And how I told her I’d always find her. Protect her.
Da exhales sharply through his nose.
Then he turns toward the front seat. “You heard my son,” he snaps. “Hand him the feckin’ gun.”
Darragh unlocks the case with his free hand, pulls out the SIG, and presses it into my hand without a word. I check the chamber—loaded, clean, ready. Good.
I settle back in my seat, grip tight, pulse pounding. We’re still two minutes out.
“Drive faster,” I growl.