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“I have a proposition.”

My brows lift.“Go on.”

“I want to take over the Syndicate,” he says smoothly, “and I want to run it with you.”

The words land like a weight in my chest.For a moment, I can’t tell if it’s ambition or nausea twisting in my stomach.

He says it like it’s inevitable.Like I’ve already agreed.What he doesn’t see is the way my nails press into my palms beneath the table, how hard I work to keep my face still.

He thinks I’ll be flattered.Empowered.

But all I feel is the cold, calculating truth settling into place.

He doesn’t want me as a partner.He wants me as leverage.As a crown to place on his stolen throne.

But I’ve worn prettier masks than this.And I’ve played far more dangerous games.

“You’re a smart young woman, Aoife,” he continues, his voice carrying a hint of admiration.“Too smart to be working a front desk.You’re a Quigley.That makes you royalty.You should be doing something deserving of your name.”

I let my lips part slightly, as if mesmerized, as if no one has ever seen me like this before.

“I know you want more.You’ve been pushing to prove yourself, and your brother still won’t let you in.You belong in this world.And with me?You’d have power.Real power,” he says as if he’s offering me the world in silk and chains.

I inhale slowly, as if overwhelmed.“What about Ruairi?”

“If he willingly steps down, he’ll be offered another position in the Syndicate.”

I sit back, crossing my legs, like I’m genuinely thinking it over.

Cian lets the silence stretch, his eyes never leaving mine as he waits for my answer.Then his phone vibrates on the table.He glances at the screen and then back to me.

“Excuse me,” he mutters, pushing back his chair.“I need to take this.”He stands, adjusting his jacket.“Wait here for me?”

I give him a small smile, nodding.“Of course.”

The moment he’s out of sight, I push away from the table.My heart hammers as I walk briskly across the restaurant toward a side entrance.

Jerry Callahan’s still there, slouched in his seat beside Eamon.As I pass, he whistles low, turning slightly toward me.“Leaving already, sweetheart?”he drawls, his voice as sleazy as the way he looks at me.“Shame.You looked bored out of your mind with that old bastard.”He leans in just a little, voice dropping to something rougher, darker.“I could show you a much better time tonight.Something slow, hard, and worth remembering.”

I stop and turn in his direction, ready to put him in his place, but before I can get a word out, Eamon moves.The punch lands hard and fast, Jerry’s head snapping back before he even registers what’s happening.

Eamon’s guards react immediately.One grabs me, yanking me back, while the other hauls Jerry out of his seat.Everything moves in a blur.I don’t fight as I’m led through the kitchen to a back entrance and ushered into the elevator.By the time I step into the penthouse, I’m fuming.

I don’t know what pisses me off more.Cian treating me like some delicate thing he can manipulate, trying to lure me back to Belfast with half-truths and veiled warnings.Jerry thinking he could say whatever he wanted like I was just another pretty face in a tight dress there for his entertainment.Or Eamon thinking I need him to fight my battles.

I cross my arms, pacing the room, my anger burning hotter with every step.I had it handled.I always do.But now?What if Cian gets wind of my boss starting a brawl over me?He’s going to ask me more questions.Questions I don’t have good answers for.

I’ve been playing this game carefully, staying close enough to Cian to pull information without tipping him off.But if he starts connecting dots, if he suspects there’s something between Eamon and me, then it’s over.He’ll shut down.

And then what?

Blowing my cover now means losing the one advantage I have in this war.And for what?Because Eamon couldn’t keep his damn hands to himself?Because he needed to throw a punch to mark his territory?

Frustration coils hot in my chest as I stop pacing and press my fingers to my temples.Rage and disappointment throb behind my eyes.I don’t need anyone stepping in for me—notCian,notRuairi, andespecially notEamon.

He thinks he’s protecting me.What he’s really doing is underestimating me.

Let them all circle like vultures, mistaking me for something fragile.They forget—it's not the damsel they should fear.It's the reckoning she brings.