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Cian

Power pulses beneath my skin,sharp and electric, close enough to taste.I tip my whiskey glass to my lips, savoring the slow burn as it carves its way down my throat, anchoring the hunger coiling tighter inside me.

Everything I’ve bled for is finally within reach.

Eamon.

Ruairi.

Their men.Their empires.Their power.Soon, all of it will be mine.

And Aoife.

The ring box in my pocket weighs heavier than it should.A solid promise pressing into my thigh, waiting for the moment I'll make it real.

She doesn’t know yet.But she will.

I’ll slip the diamond onto her finger, and she’ll take her place at my side sharp, ruthless, crowned in blood and loyalty.And exactly where she belongs.

Ruairi never understood what she could be.

Eamon only saw how he could use her.

But I see it all.

I see what no one else has the strength to claim.

Aoife is a queen.

Myqueen.

And if she refuses the crown I offer her, if she falters—I’ll break her.I’ll bury her beside the men too blind to recognize their place.

She’ll come through.

She has to.

I’ll make her my queen.Or I’ll make her a ghost.

The hunger inside me doesn’t care which.

It only cares that I win.

The phone vibrates against the desk, a shrill demand slicing through the silence.I let it buzz once, twice, savoring the power thrumming through me before leaning back in my chair, smiling as I connect the call.

"Tell me you have good news,” Ronan says.

"I do," I say flatly."I spoke with Aoife and told her we’re moving up the timeline.”

"And?"Ronan presses, impatience threading through his voice.

"She’ll be in contact tomorrow.Things are moving along," I say, keeping my tone even.

"There’s still one problem," he mutters.

I let out a slow exhale, irritation already prickling under my skin.

"What problem?"I bite out.