Chapter 9
HAYES
The black boxing bag swings in the abandoned gym, deep in the underground of the O’Brien manor.
Ferguson had a thing for the old Irish fairytales and designed his home to reflect the ruins that littered the coast. Upstairs, the mansion is all dark floors and coats of armor, with various stuffed heads of deceased animals on the walls.
But down here, in the basement, it’s full of torture rooms, a weapon’s locker and a high-tech gym.
Maeve opened the gym up to the men, allowing them to train. She said it was because they were growing sloppy, too fixated on their weapons. I had to agree.
Nothing could really save you if you were weaponless, other than using your own hands and brain to solve the problem.
My wrapped hands punch the bag, feeling the give under my palm. My knuckles throb, fingers compressed, but it’s nothing to the ache in my body.
I’ve spent the last seventy-two hours gaining votes from the clan members. By trading routes, favors, or just plain fist fights to win their confidence, I’ve gained some of the members to my side. I’ll need it—I’ll need as many men behind me as I can get, when I put my name forward.
I already knew of two men to beat in the running: Finley Kent and Ethan ó Riagáin.
Both are cousins in the clan. Though not closely related, they’re blood. If anyone doesn’t like me, they’ll choose them out of family obligation.
My left fist connects, and the bag swings harder. Being a southpaw is a blessing in this world, giving me the upper-hand. Pulling back, I examine my knuckles. They’re bruised, and swollen from the abuse I’ve put them through.
It’s worth it though. Anything to keep Roman away from Collins—from this clan.
He doesn’t care about an alliance. He hates Maeve—hates how she’s always been better than him.
This is just his way of finally gaining control over the one woman who never bows, and the best way to do that is by taking her sister.
Roman thinks Collins will be easy to take—to break. And he enjoys breaking women.
I slam my fist into the bag again. Over my dead body.
Though, I can’t say it wouldn’t be amusing to see them in a room together. Collins looks like the perfect doll in the world—a stupid mask, really—but she would annihilate him. I’m almost tempted to let her.
Smirking, I raise my fist again as a wicked kick knocks me to my knees, my palms stopping me from fully collapsing.
“What the fuck!” I shout, glancing over my shoulder, seeing Maeve there, seething. Dressed in a pair of black yoga pants and a black sports bra, her dark locks are pulled high and her fists are ready.
The woman is half my size, but she’s taken down men bigger than me. I know to tread carefully.
“What in the actual fuck are you doing?” I ask, sitting back on my heels.
“If you wanted to spar, we could have set up a time. Get a few hits in, beers after, yeah? Maybe we have actually done this properly than you taking out my knees.” Standing, I turn, keeping my eyes on her because her energy is worrisome.
“Want to talk about whatever is pissing you off?”
“How long?” she hisses, twin green orbs nothing but darkness. Uh-oh. She’s angry.
“How long, what?”
Her eyes narrow and she attacks.
She’s quick, I’ll give her that, as she darts around the mat, knee connecting with my side. My hand grabs it, pulling her forward, body absorbing the full hit. Pain radiates up my side and I wince.
“Ow, easy, Maeve. I’m fucking tender there.” One of my fights for votes ended with a few bruised ribs.
Not like she cares. She’s all rage and coiled tension, ready to rip my head off.
She struggles to pull her leg away but not because she can’t. She’s warring with something in her mind, making her movements choppy, chaotic.
That’s not Maeve.
“How long have you been fucking my sister?” she asks, landing a solid right hook into my jaw. My head whips to the side, teeth gnashing together from the force of her hit.
“Fucking hell, Maeve.” Releasing her, I cradle my jaw. Blood smears across my lip. “I’m not fucking your sister. She’s married.”
“Not her.” She tries another punch, but I dodge, stepping away.
Roaring, she jumps into the air, using the wall to give her the added height for an upper attack. I barely avoid it, arms bracing, stepping to the side.
Fuck, if she hadn’t trained me, I’d be dead on the mat by now.
“Then who?”
“Collins.”
“Collins?” Dumbfounded, I stall long enough for her to land another hit. I fall back against the wall, hands grabbing her ankle as she pins me to the gray cinderblocks with her foot. Being the only girl, she’s always fought differently.
“I knew it,” she spits, shoving her ankle into my throat. Choking, I grab her knee, throwing her away. She stumbles over her feet and I use it to my advantage.
Tackling her to the ground, I use my forearm to pin her neck, my size and weight capturing her legs. She’s not done though, pushing against me, rocking her hips to throw me off. Maeve catches me in the groin, clipping me and I have to fight to surrender.
She’s fucking on some shit tonight, not just ready to fight but to cut out my tongue, my eyes and my nose just for spite
“Easy, Maeve.” I cough, rolling to the side. She hates being pinned. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“You’re my problem,” she spews, body flushing from rage and exertion.
Her chest heaves, eyes wild. “All these years, taking on protection duty without any complaint. Do you know how many guys used to bitch about following her? A few of them I had to dispatch. But you never said one damn thing. I thought it was because you cared—because they were our family. But no, you did it to get to her.”
Confusion and disbelief paint my face as I release her. She scurries away, a shiver of fear skating down her spine.
Swallowing, I say, “I’m not—”
“Am I interrupting?” Killian asks, leaning against the far wall. Clad in nothing but a black crop top and sweats, his arms are crossed, bits of inked flesh peeking through his clothing. He eyes us both but doesn’t make a move to stop.
“Christ, you’re everywhere.” I glare at him, temper snapping. “This is a conversation between us, not you, reaper. Get the fuck out.”
“No, I’m done,” Maeve huffs, fists clenched, still sitting before me. We’re both dripping sweat, bodies sore. “Just tell me how long. How long have you been screwing my sister behind my back?”
I glance to Killian, trying to understand what the fuck is happening. I’ve never touched Collins—never screwed her. And trust me, I’ve wanted to. I’ve had nightmares about what she’d sound like, feel like, taste like. How her quick wit full of venom and sass would turn sweet with the right touch.
Collins doesn’t want me like that. If she did, things would be different. But out of respect for her, for Maeve, I keep to my station.
Hell, even if she did, she wouldn’t want someone as broken as me to touch her.
Killian tilts his head, assessing me. He sees something in my gaze, that deranged smile growing and I glare.
Fuck. He’s up to something.
“Maeve, I’m not—”
“Must have been for a while,” Killian calls out, moving closer, yanking Maeve to her feet. “After all, you’re engaged.”
“Engaged?” I rush to stand, heart slamming in my chest. From confusion, fear and excitement. “Wait—”
“You didn’t even have the balls to tell me yourself,” she spits. “I had to find out from her.”
From her? Collins told Maeve we were engaged? Why would she do that?
And why does everything in my body tighten with need, though my mind knows this is dangerous territory.
“And after I gave the order,” she whispers, exhaling slowly.
Maeve was abused as a child because her father allowed it—facilitated it. When she took over, her first act was to protect her siblings—no one was allowed to speak, touch, or be in the room as one of her siblings without her permission.
A few guys didn’t think she was serious. She chopped off their hands and deposited their bodies into the burn pit for their arrogance.
“Whatever.” She clears her throat, ripping away from Killian. “I’m done.”
At the door, she looks back at me, a flash of vulnerability before it’s gone. “I’ll be looking closely at your relationship. If it’s not up to my scrutiny, you’re out.”
Out. As in, kicked out of the clan.
My stomach sinks. Bruno was never my home, it was a place of secrets, of hurt and trauma, a place where I was expected to be a good boy and lay down to take whatever shit a new man of the night gave me. Here, I was respected, I had a friend, I had a home.
Killian watches her go, drinking in her legs and I don’t think, grabbing him by the throat, pinning him to the basement wall. The man goes without much fuss, allowing me to slam his head into the concrete. I smile when he blinks against the pain.
“What the fuck did you do?” I seethe, fingers digging into his neck. The urge to kill him now is almost too good to ignore.
Why would Collins claim me? She must have a plan. She wouldn’t willingly want me—not unless there was a reason.
Unless she does, and I just won everything I’ve wanted, while wrestling with the guilt of losing the only home I’ve ever known.
“I didn’t do anything,” he chokes, smile firmly in place. “It’s what Collins did.”
I shake him. God, I want to snap his neck. “Liar. You had a hand in this—I know it.”
“Really?” He grabs my wrist, pulling me close, just to hyperextend the bone. There’s a snap and I drop him, hand throbbing. Bastard.
Roaring, I swing with my left hand, catching him in the cheek. He falls back, blood dripping from his chin, and he fucking grins.
“Didn’t think you had it in you.” He laughs, wiping his face. “Collins told Maeve you two were engaged. As a way to starve off the Bruno proposal.”
“I was working on that,” I snap, crowding the reaper. To his credit, he doesn’t back down.
I spent days winning the clan to my side, reading up on the trials. I was in this stupid gym, working out, to prepare. All for Collins. To protect her.
“Maybe she didn’t feel like having you rescue her?” Standing upright, the blood stains his chest, drawing my attention to the black wings covering the tops of his shoulders and the golden chain around his neck. “The O’Brien women are big on that.”
“They’re also big on letting go of the past,” I say, pointedly looking at the deadhead moth pendant hiding under his shirt.
Killian’s good mood deteriorates. “Do you want to keep Collins safe?”
Stubbornly, I nod, itching to punch the reaper again. “No shit. It’s what I’ve always done.”
“Then play along, Prince. Collins claimed a relationship with you to Maeve in order to avoid a marriage with Bruno. If you don’t go along with it, Maeve might just sign off on the papers to spite all of you.”
My heart seizes. I can’t risk that. “She’s ready to kick me out, regardless. What makes you think she won’t do it now after this shit you did?”
I want to feel guilty—but my mind keeps going back to the real situation I find myself in.
Collins just handed herself to me. For selfish reasons, sure, and she might get me kicked out, but she’s mine. Mine.
The fucker smiles and winks. “Trust me. If you don’t follow along, you risk more than you think.”
Growling, I jab out with my left, but the reaper is ready. He catches my hand, flipping me over his shoulder until I’m lying on the mat, breath trapped in my lungs.
For good measure, he straddles me, black claw-like knife under my chin. Pushing back, I try not to gulp. I’ve seen him gut men with that knife.
“You kept me from Maeve,” he breathes. “Consider this repayment.”
“Fuck. You.”
“Good thing I’m not into brutes.” He digs the knife into my neck, blood scenting the air, pain sharp. “Maeve is mine—only mine. And you took a spot next to her that should be for me.”
“Can’t help that she prefers loyalty over a rabid dog, dick.”
The knife cuts deeper. “Careful, I can kill loyalty with one quick swipe.”
Jutting out my chin, I smirk. “Go ahead. I’m sure Maeve would really love that.”
Stabbing the knife beside my head, his soulless eyes stare down at me as his pulse jumps in his neck. “If you want to keep Collins—Maeve safe, you’ll go along with this.”
This guy. “Get off of me, you prick.”
He stands, pushing as he goes and I cough against the pain. “While the both of you are scheming to figure out how to get out of this, I know how to make this clan see another fucking day.”
“Oh really? You think you know how to handle Maeve that well? Know what’s best for her—this clan?” I snort. “You were never initiated into the family, reaper. How would you know what to do?”
Grinning, Killian twirls his knife, the blade wet with my blood. “You’d be surprised what I know. I’ve spent my entire life protecting a woman who won’t protect herself. Trust me when I say, I know what I’m doing.”
I glare at him. He’s fucked my entire plan with this scheme of his.
Without Maeve, I don’t have the backing for the votes. All those favors are wasted now because I don’t have an O’Brien vouching for me.
And then there’s Collins. I want to be pissed, but my dick has other plans, hardening at the thought of finally having her, no matter the circumstances.
He looks down at me pensively. “Why did you never complain about protecting Collins, Prince?”
Standing, I elbow his side, getting in one final hit. The asshole just smiles wider.
“None of your business, reaper.” Because I wanted to be near her—hear her voice, taste her breath, heal her anxiety when it became too much.
And now, she’s mine. My mind spins.
Killian just grins.