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“I want plans in place to take O’Sullivan’s Syndicate down,” I say, my tone steely.

There’s a pause before Ronan responds, his voice measured but curious.“What’s this about?O’Sullivan’s been on your radar for a while, but we’ve never gone after him directly.”

I clench my jaw, debating how much to share.“He’s been pushing for more territory in the Midlands, and it’s time we remind him where the lines are.”

Ronan hesitates.“Pushing how?I haven’t seen anything that justifies starting a war.”

“O’Sullivan’s taken something that belongs to me,” I snap.

“What did he take?”Ronan asks, his tone cautious.“And how fast do you want us to move?”

I grip the edge of the desk, my knuckles white.“My sister,” I say finally, the words like acid on my tongue.“Aoife is in Dublin with him.”

Ronan hesitates, the weight of my admission sinking in.“Aoife’s with O’Sullivan?”he repeats, disbelief evident in his voice.

“Yes,” I growl.“And while we’re dismantling his operation, I want every precaution taken to ensure she’s not harmed.Pass that down to every man.Aoife does not get touched.No exceptions.”

“Understood,” Ronan replies, his tone sharpening with purpose.“Do you want us to target his supply chain first?”

“Ports, routes, businesses.Start where it’ll hurt him the most.Hit them clean, make him bleed, but don’t overreach.I want this controlled.”

“Got it,” Ronan says after a pause.“Anything else?”

“That’s all for now.Keep me updated,” I say, ending the call.

I toss the phone onto the desk, exhaling slowly as my mind races with the weight of what’s to come.If Aoife wants to stand by O’Sullivan, then she’ll learn the hard way how much it will cost.

Eamon

The tensionin the private meeting room is palpable as Seamus shifts uncomfortably in his chair.The faint scent of smoke lingers on his clothes as I scroll through the pictures once more.I scroll through the photos again: blackened debris, twisted metal, the remains of a shipment that was supposed to be untouchable.My jaw tightens as I set the phone down on the table.

“What the hell is this about?”Seamus asks, his voice edged with irritation and confusion.“Why would Ruairi Quigley risk a full-on war with us?It doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s a message,” I reply, my tone cold and clipped.Holding up the white envelope, I let the wax seal speak for itself.The Quigley crest, bold and undeniable, was found pinned to the warehouse door.“He’s making his intentions very clear.”

“A message?For what?”Seamus shakes his head.“Quigley’s no fool.He knows we’ll retaliate.”

I place the envelope on the table, staring at the crest for a moment before breaking the seal.The faint crack of wax echoes in the room as I pull out a folded sheet of thick, cream-colored paper and read the note aloud.

She is blood of my blood, bound by a name you’ll never own.

Turn back while you still can,

Or be swallowed whole by the abyss you’ve chosen.

~R.Q.

“That’s a bit dramatic,” he mutters.

“Dramatic or not, it’s a warning.”I set the note down.“And he’s not bluffing.”

“Eamon, what in the bloody hell’s going on?”he asks.

My fingers brush the edge of the table.I don’t like having to explain myself to anyone, but there’s no point in dancing around the truth.Not after this.Meeting Seamus’s questioning gaze, I keep my voice low and steady.“It’s about the woman in my penthouse.”

Seamus arches a brow, his confusion deepening.“You’re telling me this is about a girl?”

I exhale sharply.“Her name is Aoife.Aoife Quigley.Twin sister of?—”