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“Either way, they’re all dead,” Blaise quips.

I take a moment to gather my thoughts so I can express them coherently. I don’t feel like they’re getting the full gist of what I’m trying to say. “Our focus has been on the Keans?—”

“They’re the one who killed our parents,” Ash says.

“Right, but think about what took place. Kean’s men got onto the property and into the house completely undetected. The fire is ruled an accident before it’s even out. Once the Ifrinns are gone, it’s weeks, days even, before Kean is the head of the heap. Everyone loyal to Dad is dead too or under Kean’s thumb.”

“What are you saying?” Phoenix asks.

“I’m saying that Kean orchestrated all this. It’s not just a matter of him carrying out a hit on Dad and people fell in line. He planned this with help from someone inside our family, Marshall, and associates willing to turn on Dad. It’s the only thing that explains how seamlessly he destroyed us and took over.”

My brothers’ eyes are on me, and I can see that they understand just how much deeper Kean’s deception and betrayal run. It wasn’t a whim or a fit of anger that had Hampton killing our family. It was a well-planned, well-executed war.

“It doesn’t change our plan,” Ash says.

“No, but it does mean we need to be careful not to underestimate Hampton and his power and influence,” Phoenix says. “We need to be as methodical as him.”

“What do we do differently?” Blaise asks.

Phoenix puts his hand on my shoulder. “Well, let’s figure that out.”

I seeit as a benefit that we’re considering Hampton’s methodical takeover of the Ifrinns’ business, but when we’re done going over everything, not much has changed. We’re still unsure how to get inside the Kean family to exact our revenge. As a result, I’m back to skulking about at O’Malley’s Pub. Against my better judgment, I ask Lucy to come with me. I can’t decide if it’s just because I want to see her or because I think she might be able to get answers.

Of course, she was eager to come because she lives for her job.

As we enter, I’m keyed up, second-guessing whether this is a good idea. If O’Brian or Connor are here, we’ll get served trouble, not answers.

As we walk in, I scan the place and don’t see anyone who immediately concerns me. I glance at Lucy, her eyes bright with that familiar determined glint that both thrills and terrifies me. She's wearing dark jeans and a simple top, trying to blend in like I asked, but there's no dampening her natural radiance. The men who are there take notice.

"Remember what we talked about," I murmur, tugging her close so everyone knows she’s mine. "No direct questions about the Keans. Just listen and observe."

"I know how to be subtle."

Lucy is far from subtle. "Hey.” I stop us both to look at her. "I mean it, Lucy. These people are more dangerous than you realize. One wrong word and?—”

"And what? They'll rough me up?" She tries to laugh it off. "I can handle myself."

"No." My voice comes out harder than intended. I force myself to soften it, but I need her to understand. "They won't just rough you up. They'll make you disappear. And I…" The words catch in my throat. I can't lose another person I care about to these monsters. "I can't let that happen."

Something in my expression must convey the gravity of the situation because her smile fades. She studies my face for a long moment before nodding.

“Okay. I'll be careful. Really careful." She touches my cheek gently. "The same goes for you."

I catch her hand, kissing her palm before letting it go, wondering if she’s truly worried about me, if she’s feeling for me even a fraction of what I feel for her.

We sit at the bar and order drinks. I recognize a few of Kean’s men, most low-level grunts. I’m almost relieved.

The door opens, and I give a sideways glance to check who’s entering. If it’s O’Brian or Connor, we’re fucked. Instead, my breath catches as I watch Detective Marshall—or I guess he’s Superintendent Marshall now—stride in.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Sure, he’s dirty, but he’s smart enough to avoid the places and people that would reveal his corrupt nature.

“Who?”

I put my hand over Lucy’s. “Don’t look. It’s Marshall.”

Her eyes widen. “The superintendent of police?”

I nod as I continue to surreptitiously watch the man who helped cover up my family's murder. My fingers clench around my glass so hard I'm surprised it doesn't shatter. Next to me, Lucy is saying something, but I can barely hear her over the roaring in my ears. All I can think about is Marshall pocketing Kean’s payoff money after closing down any questions about the fire.