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I’m the last to stand over them.The petals of the roses I hold are soft and fragile between my fingers before I let them fall into the open grave.

“I’ll make you proud,” I whisper, my voice catching.“I promise.”

Back at Ruairi’s house, the silence is heavier than it’s ever been.The guests are gone, and the house is empty except for us.Bridget busies herself in the kitchen, her grief manifesting in quiet movements as she cleans and prepares tea.Saoirse is down for a nap the faint sound of her breathing comes through the baby monitor.

Ruairi and I sit in the living room, the same place we’d talked that first night I came back.

“They’d be proud of you, you know,” he says, his voice low.

I glance at him, my eyes still red from crying.“Would they?Da spent his whole life keeping me away from the Syndicate.Keeping me out of his world.”

“He did it to protect you,” Ruairi says firmly.“Not because he didn’t think you were capable.”

I scoff softly, shaking my head.“We’ll never know now, will we?”

Ruairi’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think he’s going to argue.But instead, he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.“We’ll revisit this,” he says, his tone resigned.“After things settle.”

I nod, though the fire inside me hasn’t dimmed.I’ve spent my entire life waiting for my moment, and I won’t let grief, or Ruairi, keep me from taking my rightful place in the Syndicate.

For now, though, I let the silence settle between us, the weight of the day enough to keep my fight at bay.

Eamon

The whiskeyburns as it goes down, but it doesn’t chase away the restlessness knotting my chest.I lean back in my chair, staring at the map of Dublin spread across the table in front of me.It’s marked with red pins—territory disputes, shipments, and other business dealings that should have my full attention.

But my focus drifts, as it has every day since I got back.

Eve.

Her voice echoes in my mind, the way her words carried that distinct Belfast lilt.It wasn’t purely Irish, but not entirely foreign, either.It was unique, like her.

It’s been months, and I still can’t get her out of my head.I’ve spent hours tracking down every lead I can think of, but I’ve got nothing.Just the vivid memory of her fiery red hair, green eyes, and the way she could make me forget everything else with a single look.

I’ve turned to every connection, and every resource I have, but it’s all led to dead ends.The resort in the Maldives had no record of her booking.No surprises there, considering she’d probably used an alias.

And the worst part?The not knowing.

No pictures.No last names.Who Eve really is.Where she is now.Whether she’s thinking about me the way I can’t stop thinking about her.

The door to my office creaks open, and Seamus steps inside, his face a mix of irritation and concern.“We need to talk.”

I glance up, my expression flat.“If it’s about the Callahan’s, I’ve already?—”

“It’s not the Callahan’s,” he cuts in, crossing his arms.“It’s you.”

My jaw tightens, and I set the glass down slowly.“What about me?”

Seamus exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair.“The men are talking.They’re saying you’ve changed since you came back.That your head’s not in the game anymore.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Is it?”His gaze sharpens.“You’ve been distracted for months.You’re handling things, sure, but it’s like your fire’s gone.And the men notice.They’re questioning your commitment.And frankly, so am I.”

Anger flares instantly, sharp and hot.I stand, the chair scraping back against the floor.“I haven’t dropped the ball on anything.Business is running smoothly, and no one’s stepping out of line.”

Seamus doesn’t back down.“Not yet.But they will if they think you’re slipping.This isn’t just about keeping the trains running.It’s about power.Control.Perception.If they think you’re not the same man who left, they’ll take advantage of it.”

The truth in his words stings more than I want to admit.