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I lift my chin.“No.”

He watches me, reading me like he always does.“You can still turn back.It’s not too late.”

Brushing past him, I descend the stairs first, ignoring the way my heart hammers in my chest.

The underground level is worse.The air is damp and heavy with the scent of moisture, old stone, and something faintly metallic—like the ghost of blood long since washed away.The only light comes from a few exposed bulbs swaying slightly.Their glow flickers erratically, casting distorted shadows that seem to shift and stretch out like reaching hands.

The hum of electricity buzzes faintly, almost drowned out by the slow, rhythmic drip of water somewhere in the distance.The uneven floor is slick in places, the moisture seeping through the cracks, making each step feel like I’m sinking deeper into something I can’t escape.

We turn into a room, and I see him.A man sits in a chair in the middle of the space, his wrists bound behind him, his face bloodied and swollen from the beating he appears to have already taken.I swallow hard, keeping my expression blank as Eamon steps beside me.

“This,” Eamon says, his voice calm, almost casual, like we’re discussing the weather, “is one of your brother’s men.”

My stomach twists.

“He was caught skulking around my docks,” he continues, his gaze never leaving the man slumped before us.“We found the explosives in his bag.Tucked beneath crates, rigged to go off the moment my shipment arrived.”

A cold chill works its way down my spine.

“Not just spying,” he adds, almost as if he's explaining it for my benefit.“He wasn’t here to gather intel.He was here to make a statement.To send a message from Ruairi.”

He turns his head, finally looking at me.“So now we’ll send one back.”He steps closer, boots scraping against the cold stone floor.“Do you know how we’ll do that, Aoife?”he asks, still staring at the bruised and bloodied figure.

My throat tightens, but I manage the words.“He needs to die.”

Eamon’s gaze darkens with approval.“Good girl.”

I don’t flinch when he reaches out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.His touch is light, almost tender, but there’s nothing soft about the moment.

Then, he steps back and unholsters his gun.I watch, frozen, as he holds it out to me.

“You’re going to pull the trigger.”

The weight of his words crash over me.

I stare at the gun.At the man in the chair.At Eamon.

This is it.

This is the moment where I take control of my future.

If I back down now, neither Eamon nor Ruairi will ever take me seriously.I’ll never have a place in the Syndicate.I’ll never be more than Ruairi’s twin or Eamon’s girlfriend.

This is my pit.My pendulum swings above me.And I will not be the one left waiting beneath its blade.

My pulse pounds in my ears.

Eamon leans in, his whispered words meant for only me to hear.“It’s not too late to decide this isn’t for you.”

I know what he’s doing.He’s pushing me, giving me an out.

But I don’t take it.

Instead, I wrap my fingers around the gun, raise it, click the safety off?—

Eamon

She wentto a fucking Syndicate meeting without telling me.