Page 135 of Brutal Heir

“It’s been a long year, hasn’t it? Tell me… washeworth it? Your little rebellion? The Italian?”

“Fuck you,” I hiss, unable to remain silent for another moment.

“Watch your filthy whore of a mouth,” he snarls. He lifts a hand, eyes dark and menacing. “Or shall I remind you what happens when you disrespect me?”

I don’t wince. I don’t dare give him the satisfaction. Instead, I force my feet forward and step between him and the window. He doesn’t deserve to look at Blaine.

He chuckles softly, the sound as pleasant as shattered glass. “Still so fiery. That’s why I liked you in the first place. That fire, that spark. It’ll make breaking you all the more satisfying.”

Drawing in air through my nose, I force myself to remain calm. “You can try.”

“I won’t even have to lay a hand on you, Brigid. I’ll make your brothers do it for me.” He smiles gently, gaze flickering to my older brother standing motionless by the door. “That’s the difference between me and Rossi. I understand how to gain loyalty.”

The image is too brutal and bears too much truth to even get a word out.

Another glimmer of amusement brightens his cold hazel eyes. “So…Alessandro Rossi, huh? Gemini’s broken little prince. Tell me, Brigid, does he feck you like I used to?”

“Better,” I snap. “He’s a real man, Conall, with the biggest cock I’ve ever seen. Not a little gobshite in a suit pretending he’s king of the feckin’ world.”

That does it. The first real reaction. A flash of fury. Then a sharp crack, and a searing sting blossoms across my cheek before I realize his hand moved.

“There she is, my sharp-tongued Brigid.”

“It’s Rory now actually.” My stomach churns. I fight the urge to wretch. “Why am I here?” My voice is steel, even if the rest of me is shaking.

“To give you a choice.”

I blink. “What?”

A beat passes before he drops the bomb. “I still plan to marry you.”

The words slam into me like a blow. “You’re out of your feckin’ mind,” I whisper.

He chuckles. “Maybe. But even you must see the poetry in it. After all your running, all your rebellion, you’ll still be mine. And trust me,thatwill be the worst punishment of all.”

“I’d rather die,” I hiss, eyes searching desperately for Bran.Please, help me, dammit. The coward doesn’t even look at me.

“Would you?” Conall nods toward the glass. A damp curl of strawberry-blonde hair tumbles over Blaine’s brow. “Because you’re not the one who’ll pay.”

Behind the glass, my brother lifts his head weakly. One of Conall’s men steps forward with a knife.

“No, wait!” I lunge forward.

But it’s too late.

The man plunges the blade into Blaine’s side. Not deep enough to kill but enough.

Blaine screams, his voice raw and ragged, and I nearly collapse against the skewed chair.

“No. No. No.” I press my hands to the glass, my breath fogging up the surface. “You bastard!”

“Next time it won’t be his side,” Conall says softly behind me. Then his hand is at my throat, squeezing. Not tight enough to choke, but just enough to send panic surging through my veins and force my lungs to seize.

“Is that what you did to Maeve?” I rasp out. “To your own sister?”

Again, that cocky smile falters and his fingers tighten. “She’s no sister of mine. She was a feckin’ traitor and she deserved what she got. When I found out she was the one who helped you escape…” He clucks his teeth, shaking his head. “Her screams as I plunged the knife between her ribs are an enchanting melody I fall asleep to every night.”

A tremor darts up my spine, and I wrap my arms tight around myself to keep from shaking. Jesus, Mary and Joseph…he’s a monster.