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“What do you want me to do?”I snap.“Throw someone off a building to remind them who I am?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Seamus says bluntly, his voice steady.“You need to remind them you’re not just present, but that you’re still the ruthless leader they fear and respect.”

The silence between us crackles.

Finally, I exhale sharply, dragging a hand down my face."What about Liam O'Connor?"I say, my voice cold and measured."He's been encroaching on our territory, hasn't he?"

Seamus raises an eyebrow, surprise flashing briefly across his face."We've had reports he's been making moves, trying to undercut our operations in the Docklands.Nothing definitive yet."

I fix him with a hard stare."Definitive or not, he's testing us.If the men need a reminder of who I am, then Liam's the perfect example."

Seamus hesitates."You want me to send someone to deal with him?"

"No," I snap."I’ll deal with him myself.Arrange a meeting.Somewhere neutral enough to keep this controlled but public enough to make an impression."

"You want to go face-to-face with him?”He shakes his head, incredulous.“You know he's the kind of rat who’ll have backup waiting."

I lean forward, my tone sharp."Let him.I’m not walking into this unprepared.But the message has to be clear.Anyone who crosses me doesn’t get to walk away."

Seamus exhales, nodding slowly as the realization sinks in."Alright.I’ll set it up and make sure word gets out.Everyone will know you’re handling this personally."

"Good," I say, leaning back."And make it clear to Liam that this isn’t a negotiation.It’s a warning."

Seamus smirks faintly, the tension between us easing slightly."He won’t know what hit him."

As he leaves the room, I stare at the map on the table, my focus narrowing on the Docklands.Dealing with Liam O’Connor isn’t just about business.It’s about reasserting control.The men need to see me at my best or, more accurately, at my worst.

Every time I try to focus on business, on the next move, I feel her pulling at the edges of everything, like a wound that won’t close.Her absence aches in places I didn’t know could hurt.

One part of me wants to hunt her down, to demand answers, to figure out why the hell she left.The other knows I’ve got a job to do.A life that doesn’t have room for someone like her.No matter how hard I try to compartmentalize, she keeps bleeding into the parts of my life I swore would stay untouched.

But I can’t let her go.Not yet.Not until I know who she really is.

Aoife

The sharp crackof gunfire echoes off the walls as I squeeze the trigger again, the recoil kicking lightly in my arm.Another clean shot, center mass.

I lower the pistol, satisfaction warms my chest as I take in the target riddled with precise hits.I started training while I was traveling, studying with some of the best sharpshooters in the world.Each shot feels like proof that I’m capable of more than my father and Ruairi have ever given me credit for.

“You’re good,” his voice cuts through the stillness.

I set the pistol down and remove my ear protection.

Turning around, I find Ruairi leaning casually against the doorway of the shooting range, arms crossed over his chest.His expression is somewhere between impressed and curious.“Almost scary good,” he adds, pushing off the wall to approach me.

“Isn’t that the point?”I quip, raising an eyebrow.

He stops a few paces away, his gaze flicking to the target before settling back on me.“What’s got you in here?”

I shrug, keeping my tone light.“Thought I’d make myself useful.”

He studies me for a long moment, his sharp eyes seeing more than I’d like.I’ve been home for months, biding my time and planning how to approach him about the one thing I’ve been working toward for years.Now, the moment feels closer than ever.

“Can we talk?”I ask, tilting my head toward the door.

His brow furrows slightly, but he nods.“Alright.I’ll meet you in my office in fifteen minutes.”

“Perfect,” I say, my voice clipped as I turn back to my weapon.My hand brushes over the pistol, methodically unloading and cleaning it before setting it back in its case.Every movement is precise, almost mechanical, a way to keep my nerves in check.