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“My sister was taken captive last week on Christmas Eve,” Ares says, baring his teeth. “In the middle of the night. Her guards were killed and she was ripped from her bed in my aunt’s house.”

“Who took her?” I ask, twitching for nicotine.

“BrandonKeller, the bastard son of Troi,” Ares says, darkness raging in his eyes.

“How does he have the Keller name if he’s a bastard?” I challenge because none of this makes sense.

“His mother was a long-time mistress of Troi,” Kai answers. “She gave him the name Keller when he was born and wanted him to take his rightful place in the line of succession. She was rumored to have been pushing Brandon to be more aggressive about leading.”

“I don’t know why you think we would get involved in that fight,” I practically snort. “I’ve been around the Irish Mafia my whole life. They are very territorial. We’re outsiders.”

“Troi Keller might not have had an issue fucking around, but he thought legitimizing a bastard alongside Devlin disrespected his wife. Mary EllenSullivan.” Kai emphasizing the legendary and powerful Irish family name has the hair on the back of my neck standing up.

“No, no, no.” All the blood drains from Shane’s face.

He paces, holding a narrow leather-bound ledger. My brother has seen a lot, but something in that book has him looking like he’s ready to throw up.

Connor grabs the book roughly and mutters a curse under his breath. “This is fucked.”

“Ewan!” Shane calls out in a way that has my older brother bolting across the office, too.

“This can’t be right,” Ewan says, taking out another book.

My legs go weak, and I take a seat as it all comes together.

Fuck.

We’re NOT outsiders.

Ares cracks a smile. Odd for a man whose sister is captive and whose older brother was recently gunned down.

“Here.” Shane hands me very old photographs.

Hating to take my eyes off Ares fucking Zervas, I glance down at a few faded three-by-five images of two little girls on roller skates. “Is that Ma?”

“Aye,” Shane answers me, looking at Ares. “With her cousin. The same Mary Ellen Sullivan.”

Ares stands and folds his arms. “That makesNorahSullivan Quinlan’s sons heirs to the Keller family.”

Kai adds, “As a final tribute to Mary Ellen and atmyinsistence, I urged Troi to seek an heir along his wife’s family line. After all, it was House Sullivan before it became House Keller, Troi became head of the clan by marriage.”

“Mafia bosses can also technically name anyone they want as successor,” Ewan says, which adds to the credibility that if Troi Keller wishes it and puts it in writing, it should be respected.

I look at Kai Powers. “Troi’s will specifically says all of House Keller goes to...us?”

“Yes, sir,” he says with a smile. “His new will does. He’s suffering from stage-four, inoperable colon cancer. In early December we held a council meeting to hear petitions for candidates to succeed him. But he left there disappointed. When I showed him your mother’s birth certificate and a few other family records proving the bloodline, he agreed.” Kai looks at Ares. “We think that’s why Brandon moved in and took Ava on Christmas Eve.”

Looks like I just inherited a consigliere, too. But can I trust him? Kai strides to my side, and fuck all, there’s our name.

“And you, Mr. Quinlan are the oldest available male and next in line to marry Ava.”

I look up and find Ares staring right at me. Holy fuck, I hadn’t put those elements together.

“You’re serious? Where is Troi?” I ask Kai. “With all due respect, Don Zervas, Keller is an Irishman like me. I’d like to hear all of this from his mouth.”

And there I go, aligning with the man’s enemy.

“Troi is in Madison Hill hospital and on a ventilator,” Ares reports. “His doctors predict he’s got less than a month to live. Kai is his lawyer and has the control to carry out his final wishes.”