Chapter 38
CHAPTER 38
R onan
The next morning started off slowly. Leena was still sleeping while Kiera was curled up on the couch, a cup of coffee in her hands as she flipped through a book she wasn’t really reading. I could tell by the way her eyes kept darting to the window.
She looked like she belonged there.
I was at the kitchen counter, nursing my own coffee while my mind simmered with thoughts of her and how instrumental she’d been in the successful rescue of my sister.
She had no business being part of this world, but she’d thrown herself into it anyway, risking everything to stand by my side. The thought of her in danger, of her being taken the way Leena had been, made my chest tighten with a fear I didn’t know I was capable of feeling.
Kiera wasn’t just someone I wanted to protect—she was my anchor, my reason for keeping it all together. She was the one thing I couldn’t afford to lose.
The one thing I wouldn’t lose.
I’d built my life on control—on knowing every move before it happened, every risk before it was taken. But Kiera threw all of that into chaos. She wasn’t just a weakness; she was my weakness. And it wasn’t just her safety that haunted me.
It was the way she looked at me, like she saw the man beneath the armor, like she saw something worth saving. I wasn’t sure if I could live up to that, but I knew one thing for sure: I’d burn the world down before I let her go.
My phone buzzed, breaking through my tumultuous thoughts. The mayor’s name lit up the screen, and I set the mug down, tension coiling in my chest.
“Victor,” I said as I answered, keeping my voice calm.
“I’ve got news,” he replied, his tone clipped and urgent. “I managed to get in touch with Marco.”
I stiffened, my jaw tightening as Kiera looked up from her spot on the couch, her brows furrowing in curiosity. “And?”
“He’s still waiting,” Victor said. “Prepping, positioning himself. He’s not ready to strike just yet, but he’s close. Very close.”
I exhaled slowly, my grip on the phone tightening. “What does he want?”
“To make you pay,” Victor said bluntly. “For Lorenzo, for the chaos he’s convinced you caused. He’s holding onto this idea that you’re the one who killed his father. He’s biding his time, building his resources, but make no mistake—he’s coming for you.”
“Then why hasn’t he moved yet?” I asked, my voice low.
“Because he’s still deciding how to do it,” Victor said. “But I managed to broker a temporary truce. He’s willing to meet, to talk it out. No guarantees, but it’s better than open war in the streets.”
“Where and when?”
“The Glasshouse. Tomorrow evening,” Victor said. “Neutral ground. It’s public. It’s safe.”
“There’s no such thing as safe when it comes to Marco Benedetti,” I muttered.
“You don’t have a choice, O’Malley,” Victor snapped. “If you want to avoid this city becoming a bloodbath, you’ll show up and make your case. Make him believe you didn’t kill Lorenzo.”
I glanced at Kiera, her eyes locked on me, her expression tense as she tried to follow the conversation.
“I’ll be there,” I said finally.
“Good.”
The line went dead, and I set the phone down, running a hand through my hair as I turned to face Kiera.
“What was that about?” she asked, her voice steady, but edged with curiosity.
I leaned against the counter, my arms crossing as I met her gaze. “The mayor got through to Marco. He still wants revenge, but he’s agreed to a meeting. A chance to talk before this turns into all-out war.”
Her brows furrowed, and she tilted her chin up slightly. “And you’re going?”
“I don’t have a choice,” I said firmly. “If I can stop this before it starts, I will. But it’s Marco—we both know he’s not walking into this with good intentions.”
“Exactly,” Kiera said, stepping closer.
“I’m going alone. I can’t risk anyone else,” I said pointedly, pushing off the counter to face her. “Especially you.”
Her eyes flashed with defiance, and she crossed her arms tighter.
“You can’t just leave me out of this, Ronan. This all started because of me—because I picked a fight with Marco. If he’s coming after you, it’s my mess too.”
I clenched my jaw, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “Kiera, you don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Yes, I do,” she said, her voice steady. “And I’m not asking, Ronan. I’m coming with you.”
I wanted to argue, to tell her no, to order her to stay where it was safe. But the fire in her eyes burned brighter than my protests, and I knew she wasn’t going to back down.
The thing was I’d seen that fire in her before. It wasn’t just stubbornness—though she had plenty of that—it was courage, the kind of quiet, unyielding strength that most people wouldn’t dare summon in the face of someone like me.
That was why she was my queen.
Why, as much as I hated the idea of putting her in harm’s way, I knew she wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t let her stand beside me.
I sighed heavily, my shoulders sagging in defeat. “Fine. But you do exactly as I say. No arguing, no going off on your own, no trying to play the hero. You’re there to observe, nothing more.”
“Deal,” she said quickly, relief flashing across her face.
I stepped closer, cupping her face in my hands as I stared into her eyes. “This isn’t a game, Kiera. Marco won’t hesitate to use you if he thinks it’ll hurt me. You follow my lead, or I’ll drag you out of there myself. Understood?”
“Understood,” she said softly, her hands coming up to rest on mine.
I pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. But as I gazed down at her, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was bringing her into something that was far too dangerous. The meeting with Marco wasn’t just a negotiation—it was a test. A game of chess where every move mattered.
And now, with Kiera in play, the stakes felt higher than ever.
I took a deep breath and pulled back my shoulders as I stared at the entryway of the Glasshouse, an upscale restaurant tucked into a quiet corner of Manhattan’s Chelsea neighborhood.
I pushed my hands into the pockets of my coat as I scanned the street. My men were already in place, positioned at strategic points around the restaurant. They weren’t obvious, but they were there. Kiera stood beside me, her chin high, her shoulders squared.
Watching, waiting, ready.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said softly, breaking the silence.
I glanced at her, my jaw tightening. “Yes, I do.”
She turned to face me fully, her expression hardening. “I’m not telling you what you can or can’t do, Ronan, but if you go in there and provoke him, you might start another war. You already lost Finn, and Leena barely made it out alive.”
“If I have to take him out—” I began.
“ No .” Her voice was sharp, her green eyes blazing as she stepped closer. “You can’t kill him, Ronan.”
“If I have to, I will,” I said coldly. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you.”
“And you think that’s what I want?” she shot back, her voice trembling with emotion. “Do you think putting a target on your back—or on mine—is going to keep us safe?”
I opened my mouth to argue, but she cut me off with a look that left no room for debate.
“ No ,” she said again, softer this time, but no less firm. “You know it’ll only put us in more danger. Marco has allies—powerful ones. If you kill him, you don’t just start a war. You make yourself the center of it.”
Her words landed like a blow, the weight of them settling heavily on my chest. She was right, damn it. As much as I hated it, she was right.
I took a deep breath. She wasn’t wrong—Marco’s smug face alone was enough to make me want to throw the first punch.
But hearing her say it, hearing the raw honesty in her voice, forced me to confront a truth I wasn’t ready to admit.
She didn’t get to tell me no, but the truth was, I didn’t want her to. Not now. Not when I needed her just as much as she needed me.
“I understand Marco’s a dirtbag,” she continued, her voice firm, but pleading. “But there’s no reason for this to end in a fight. I won’t let you pretend you’re doing this for me when we both know it’s more about your pride.”
I turned to her fully. Without a word, I reached for her, my fingers tangling gently but firmly in her hair. I pulled her close, my lips brushing against hers in a kiss that silenced both of us.
When I pulled back, I kept her close, my forehead resting against hers as I spoke.
“You’re being sassy, my queen,” I murmured, my voice low and rough. “But you’re wise.”
Her breath caught slightly, her hands curling into the lapels of my coat as she looked up at me. “Someone has to keep you in check.”
A faint smirk tugged at my lips, and I kissed her again, slower this time, savoring the moment before stepping back. “I’ll handle this,” I said, my voice softening. “For all of us. No fights, no war—unless Marco gives me no other choice.”
She nodded, her eyes still searching mine. “I trust you.”
“Good,” I said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Stay close and let me take care of this.”
As if on cue, Declan’s voice crackled in my earpiece. “Boss, Marco’s team just pulled up. Three cars. Standard formation—lead, target, and tail. He’s inside the middle one.”
“Copy that,” I replied, my voice steady.
“Mayor’s car is a block away,” Declan continued. “He’ll arrive right after Marco. Timing’s good. Everything looks clean so far.”
“Keep eyes on it,” I said, glancing at Kiera. “We’re going in.”
I stepped toward the entrance, my movements deliberate, but unhurried, Kiera close behind me. The host greeted us with a polite smile, his gaze lingering on me just long enough to confirm my identity before leading us to the private dining room walled off by frosted glass panels and heavy curtains.
The mayor had done well. This place would ensure the kind of privacy we needed for this meeting while maintaining the illusion of civility.
A long table sat in the center, set with pristine white linens and crystal glasses. I took the seat at one end, my back to the wall and opposite to the door, while Kiera sat to my right.
Moments later, the door opened, and Marco Benedetti walked in.
He looked every bit the part of a kingpin—impeccably tailored suit, hair slicked back, his expression a mask of smug confidence. Behind him, two of his men lingered just outside the door, their piercing gazes scanning the room before stepping back.
Marco’s dark eyes landed on me, and his lips curved into a faint, mocking smile.
“Ronan,” he said smoothly, taking the seat at the opposite end of the table. “It’s been a while.”
“Not nearly long enough,” I replied evenly, my tone cold.
Before Marco could respond, the door opened again, and Victor stepped inside.
“Gentlemen,” Victor said, his tone carrying the air of authority as he sat down between us. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Let’s,” Marco said as he leaned back in his chair. “After all, I’m dying to hear what O’Malley has to say.”
He tilted his head, his smirk widening as his gaze shifted to Kiera, who sat beside me, her back straight and her chin lifted. “And Kiera. Nice to see you again…”
Kiera stiffened, but she held her ground.
“I remember you,” Marco continued, his tone light, but laced with malice. “You’ve got quite the temper. Throwing drinks in people’s faces, mouthing off like you’ve got nothing to lose. Rather brave move, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call her that,” I said abruptly.
Marco ignored me, his dark eyes still locked on Kiera.
“You’re lucky you had him to bail you out,” he said, his smirk turning into something colder. “But you won’t always be so lucky.”
My vision went red.
The words were barely out of his mouth before I stood, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as I leaned forward, my hands braced on the table. I clenched my jaw as I locked eyes with him.
“Say another word,” I growled, my voice low and deadly, “and I’ll make sure you don’t leave this room alive.”
Victor’s hand shot up, his tone firm. “Ronan, sit down. Now.”
I didn’t move, my gaze locked on Marco, who didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his smirk returning. “Touchy, aren’t we? Protecting your woman’s honor? How sweet.”
The mocking tone only fueled the fire burning in my chest.
“You don’t get to talk about her,” I snarled.
Marco’s smirk faltered for the briefest moment, and I saw the flicker of challenge in his eyes.
“She doesn’t matter. I’m not here for her. I’m here for you, Ronan. You think I don’t know what you did? You killed my father,” he snapped.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” I said, my voice rising. “I had nothing to do with Lorenzo’s death. But if you keep pushing me, Marco, you’ll wish I had.”
Victor stood, his palms flat on the table as he glared at both of us.
“Enough,” he barked, his voice echoing in the tense silence. “This isn’t the time or place for this. You’re here to talk, not to kill each other.”
I clenched my jaw, my gaze still locked on Marco as my fists tightened at my sides. His smug face made me want to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze the life out of him.
But then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught Kiera’s gaze.
Her green eyes were steady, pleading without saying a word.
If you go in there and provoke him, you might start another war. This doesn’t have to end in a fight.
I took a slow breath, the fire in my chest dimming just enough for me to sit back down. My knuckles ached from clenching, but I forced myself to loosen my grip and focus on the bigger picture.
Marco leaned forward slightly, sneering again. “That’s more like it,” he said, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction.
“Enough,” Victor said, his voice cutting through the silence. “Marco, I told you this before we even set this meeting up—Ronan didn’t kill Lorenzo.”
Marco scoffed, leaning back in his chair again, his arms crossed. “And I’m just supposed to take your word for it? Please.”
“You don’t have to,” Victor said coolly. “Because we have proof.”
That got Marco’s attention. He straightened slightly, his dark eyes narrowing. “What proof?”
Victor reached into his briefcase, pulling out a slim folder and sliding it across the table toward Marco.
“This,” the mayor said. “Surveillance footage from the night Lorenzo was killed. You’ll see for yourself that it wasn’t Ronan—or any of his men—anywhere near that explosion.”
Marco hesitated, his fingers hovering over the folder before he flipped it open. Inside were printed stills from security cameras, showing a group of men moving through the alleyways near Lorenzo’s estate. The images weren’t crystal clear, but the distinct features of the men—shorter builds, thick coats, and distinct Russian tattoos visible on the back of one man’s hand—were unmistakable.
“It was the Ivanovich family,” Victor said, his tone matter of fact. “They’re the ones who planted the explosives and triggered the gas line that destroyed Lorenzo’s home and killed him. Not the O’Malleys.”
Marco’s jaw tightened, his eyes flicking between the photos and me. “And how do I know you didn’t fabricate this? You’ve got resources. You could’ve made this up to save your own skin.”
I leaned forward, my voice cold as ice. “Because I don’t need to lie to you, Marco. The Ivanovich family played us both. They killed Lorenzo to light the match, and they took my sister to fan the flames. You were too blind with grief to see it, but they’ve been working you like a puppet from the start.”
Victor nodded, his expression grim. “Ronan’s right. The Ivanovich family wanted a war between you two. They thought they could weaken both of you and step in to take control of the city.”
“And they nearly succeeded,” I added. “But they made one mistake—they underestimated me. And to a lesser extent, you.”
Marco’s smirk returned, though it lacked its usual venom. “Is that so? What makes you so sure they’re out of the picture now?”
“Because I made sure of it,” I said flatly. “My men and I wiped out their leadership. We hit their safehouses, their supply lines, their key operatives. The Ivanovich family isn’t going to be making any power plays anytime soon—not in this city, and not anywhere else.”
Victor leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him. “What Ronan’s done has wounded the Ivanovich family enough to take them off the board. They won’t be a problem for either of you moving forward.”
Marco sat silently, his expression unreadable as he processed the information. The smug arrogance that had clung to him since the beginning of the meeting had faded, replaced with something colder, more calculating.
Finally, he closed the folder and leaned forward, his dark eyes meeting mine.
“You didn’t kill my father,” Marco said slowly, his voice low. “But that doesn’t mean I trust you, O’Malley.”
“I don’t need your trust,” I replied evenly. “I just need you to understand that I didn’t start this war. But if you want to keep it going, I’ll be ready.”
The challenge hung in the air, thick and heavy, as Marco considered his next words. Finally, he stood, his chair scraping against the floor.
“We’ll see,” he said cryptically, his lips curling into a faint smirk once again. “For now, I’m satisfied. But don’t think this means we’re friends.”
“Trust me,” I said coldly, rising to meet him eye to eye. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Marco turned and walked toward the door, his men falling in step behind him as the tension in the room eased slightly.
Then Kiera suddenly straightened in her seat.
“I have something to say,” she said, her voice steady, but carrying a hint of nervousness.
Both Marco and I turned to her, and I felt my chest tighten.
“Kiera,” I warned, my voice low.
She ignored me, her gaze locked on Marco. “About the drink that I threw in your face,” she began, her tone measured. “I shouldn’t have done that. You were being an asshole, sure, but I didn’t handle it the way I should have. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
Her words landed in the silence, and for a moment, Marco just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, his lips quirked.
Marco’s gaze flicked to me then, cool and calculating. He studied me for a long moment before turning back to her.
“Apology accepted,” he said smoothly, his smirk turning cold. “But only because I don’t want to fuck with your man any more than I have to.”
I stiffened, my jaw clenching as his words hung in the air.
“That’s smart,” I said flatly, my voice edged with steel.
Marco chuckled. “Don’t get used to it, O’Malley. This isn’t a peace treaty. It’s a temporary understanding.”
“Call it whatever you want,” I said, my gaze never leaving his. “But if you come after what’s mine again, you won’t walk away next time.”
“Noted,” he said. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
He turned on his heel, his men falling in step behind him as he left the room without another word.
Victor exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Well, that could’ve gone worse.”
I nodded, my eyes still fixed on the door Marco had disappeared through. I turned, meeting Kiera’s gaze.
“Yeah. It could’ve,” I murmured.
And it would have if it hadn’t been for my girl.