Page 18

AVA

“ A va,” Cormac’s father said, his grip still too firm to be polite, his touch making my skin crawl. “How lovely to see you again.”

Cormac Senior was a sharper, older version of his terrible son.

His sandy hair had silvered at the temples but remained impeccably styled, every strand in place. His tailored navy suit hung perfectly on his tall, lean frame, paired with a pristine white pocket square—pressed and polished to perfection.

There was a quiet arrogance in the set of his jaw, but his eyes burned with something else entirely—anger, hatred, a promise of vengeance.

If he was part of the Sochai, too, then he knew I was involved in his son’s—his only heir—death.

“Mr. Foley,” I said, tugging my arm free as subtly as I could. “I’m so very sorry to hear about Cormac’s… disappearance. I hope the police find him soon. If there’s anything I can do… ”

“Your concern is… touching, Ava,” he said, his outwardly polite tone failing to mask the venom bubbling just beneath the surface. “Considering you were the last person to see him alive.”

I didn’t bother to mask my defiance. I met his stare head-on, my heart pounding but my expression unwavering.

“Why, Mr. Foley, don’t talk like that,” I said, my voice sweet but laced with barbs. “It’s like you already know he’s dead. And how could you know… right?”

His lips tightened, his polished exterior cracking for a fleeting moment. Fury flashed in his eyes, but then his gaze flicked toward the nearby receptionist. The mask slipped back into place, but I could see the cracks forming beneath.

“I will find out who took my boy from me,” he said, his voice low and simmering with barely contained rage. “And I will make them pay.”

My skin prickled, but I held my ground, refusing to let him see me falter. “I’m sure everyone involved will get exactly what they deserve .”

His blue eyes, so like his son’s yet so much colder, bored into me—a parting threat.

“Hopefully, he’s just sailing around the Mediterranean, having the time of his life and forgot to charge his phone.” I let out a patronizing laugh over my shoulder at him as I walked away. “Boys will be boys. You remember the Majorca incident last summer…”

His nostrils flared briefly, but he forced his lips into a tight smile. “Be careful, Ava.”

I blinked up at him, pretending not to catch the menace beneath his words. “Excuse me? ”

His voice was light, almost kind, but his gaze chilled me. “Well, you know… a good many students seem to be disappearing lately. I’d hate to see anything happen to you .”

I forced myself to hold his gaze for a moment longer, letting my smile widen as though I hadn’t noticed his threat.

I turned and walked away, my pulse hammering in my ears, his threat lingering behind me like a shadow, and I knew two things for sure.

They were onto me.

And this was far from over.

The lingering echo of Foley Senior’s grip still burned on my arm, the veiled threats of the three powerful men—suspected Sochai members—clouding my thoughts all day like a mist.

Even now, as I walked through the Darkmoor campus library’s history section, I couldn’t shake the weight of their words—or the implication that I was already caught in their web.

The faint smell of aged paper and leather might have comforted me on another day. Tonight, it only reminded me of the old, suffocating power of the men who ruled this place.

Even the shadows between the towering shelves felt heavier, darker, as if I were walking into the mouth of a beast I’d never come out from.

My fingers brushed along the dusty spines of the library’s ancient books, their titles barely visible in the dim light. But my focus kept slipping, wavering between the rows of forgotten histories and the heated argument brewing just behind me.

“It’s simple,” Ciaran said, his voice low and sharp. “We kill them. All three of them.”

Ciaran’s hands gripped my shoulders, his fingers digging in just enough to demand my full attention.

His blue eyes blazed, raw and untamed, as he leaned in closer. “They don’t deserve to keep breathing after what they’ve done to you.”

I froze under the intensity of his gaze, every nerve in my body pulling tight. The sheer force of his anger clashed with something deeper—something primal and protective that twisted my heart in ways I didn’t want to admit.

He was wrong. Killing them wouldn’t solve this. But the ferocity in his eyes, the unrelenting promise to keep me safe at any cost, sent a pang of love through me so sharp it almost drowned out my disagreement. Almost.

Before I could find the words to respond, Ty’s voice cut through the moment, calm and calculated, the stark opposite of Ciaran’s heat.

“It’s not that simple, Ci,” Ty said, his voice carrying a cold precision that made me shiver. “Just killing them doesn’t solve the problem. It just makes more noise. And noise attracts attention we don’t want.”

The tension crackled between them, an invisible storm brewing in the air. Ciaran’s glare snapped to Ty, his jaw tightening as if the mere act of restraint might shatter him.

I felt the moment splinter and took the opportunity to slip from Ciaran’s grasp, my gaze focusing on a book title that made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle .

“Are you fucking serious?” Ciaran’s voice rose, his frustration breaking past the tenuous restraint he’d managed to hold on to. “You’d rather sit on your fucking hands while they threaten Ava?”

Before I could answer—or before Ty could retort—the librarian’s stern voice cut through the tension like a whip.

“Quiet. Or take this elsewhere,” she said, her glare cutting over the top of her glasses as she peered at us from the end of the aisle.

I shot Ciaran a warning glare, gripping the edge of the nearest shelf to keep my growing frustration in check.

“Keep it down.” My voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “Do you want everyone in Darkmoor to know what we’re planning?”

Ty’s voice cut through the tense silence like a blade. “I want them to suffer a slow, torturous, and excruciating death as much as you do,” he said to Ciaran, his words measured but vibrating with barely restrained violence. “But we need to be smart about it.”

I froze mid-reach, the weight of his words sinking into the tension thick between them.

Ty might not have been shouting like Ciaran, but the fury in his voice was no less terrifying. If anything, it was worse—controlled, deliberate, lethal.

Gripping the thick spine of The Legacy of Darkmoor: Founders and Families , I pulled the book from the shelf, its weight solid in my hands.

Without a word, I nudged them both toward a darker, quieter aisle away from the librarian’s line of sight.

“He’s right, Ciaran,” I said, gripping the thick book tighter, as if it could ground me in this storm of emotions. “We can’t kill them yet. This kind of organization is like a hydra—cut off one head, and two more grow back in its place.”

Ciaran’s eyes snapped to mine, his expression darkening, but there was something else there—something raw, something vulnerable.

His jaw tightened, and for a fleeting moment, his anger gave way to something that cut deeper. Why him, not me? the look seemed to say, though he stayed silent.

“Right now,” Ty said, his tone measured but no less intense, “we know—or at least suspect—that one or more of those three men are part of the Sochai. They are our only lead. Killing them would just destroy our only advantage.”

I trailed my finger along the spines of the books as I scanned their titles.

“We need leverage,” I said, half to myself, half to them, my voice low. “Information.”

“Exactly,” Ty said, stepping closer, his presence a steadying contrast to Ciaran’s storm. “We need to find a weakness. An Achilles’ heel. A linchpin.”

He reached over and took the heavy book from my hands, his fingers brushing mine in a way that sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine.

His expression softened into something approving as he scanned the title before tucking the book under his arm. “Something that makes the whole organization crumble from the inside out.”

Ciaran’s eyes flicked between Ty and me, narrowing with suspicion. His jaw tightened, the tendons in his neck straining .

“Why are you taking his side over mine?” he asked, his voice sharp, edged with hurt he couldn’t hide.

“This isn’t about picking sides,” I said firmly, pausing on another title: Ireland’s Elite: A Study of Power.

“Really?” Ciaran shot back, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Because it sounds like you’re both ganging up on me.”

I yanked the thick book from the shelf and shoved it under my arm, my movements sharp from frustration.

“Because he’s making sense,” I snapped, glaring at him. “And you’re letting your emotions control you.”

He flinched at my words, but his expression hardened immediately, a storm brewing behind his eyes.

The sound of footsteps echoed faintly through the library, a group of students rounding the corner ahead. Their voices were low, punctuated by soft laughter and murmured conversation, but to me, it sounded deafening.

Cormac had been a student, just like any of them, yet he’d been working for the Sochai. The realization twisted in my gut—anyone here could be one of them. Every casual glance, every whispered conversation in the hall, every shadowed figure in the library stacks—suddenly, everyone was a suspect.

I froze, clutching the book tightly against my chest like a shield, my fingers digging into the spine of the book, the sharp edges biting into my palms.

Ty stiffened beside me, his posture shifting subtly. His sharp gaze followed the students, scanning their faces as though he could read their intentions with a glance.

He leaned slightly closer, his presence a silent reassurance even as my paranoia clawed at the edges of my mind .

Ciaran’s hand brushed my arm, the brief contact pulling my attention back to him. His lips pressed into a thin line as his eyes darted toward the students. He was just as tense, just as wary.

“Come on,” I muttered as I turned abruptly and ducked farther into the shadowy stacks, the boys flanking me like silent sentinels.

I lowered my voice even further. “We can’t just run around spilling blood without knowing who’ll replace them.”

Ty took the second book from my hand and added it to the growing pile in his arms. “We need to think strategically. We’re up against an organization older than any of us.”

I reached for another book— Shadows of Influence: Secret Societies in Ireland —and flicked through its yellowed pages, frustration simmering just below the surface.

My anger shifted into something sharper, clearer, as determination tightened my grip on the book.

“This is bigger than all of us,” I said, my voice quieter now but no less fierce. “And right now, we might be the only ones who even know the Sochai exists. We have to work together.”

Ciaran’s jaw remained tight. But I didn’t miss the slight loosening of his fingers, the flicker of something behind his eyes—grudging respect, even if anger still held him hostage.

I slammed the book shut, the sound reverberating in the silence of the stacks and making both boys flinch. “If we don’t figure out who the High Lord is—who’s ultimately pulling the strings—we’ll never stop them.”

Ty reached out, pulling the book from my hand and adding it to his pile without a word. “And if we don’t stop them soon…”

“We won’t live to try again,” Ciaran finished for him.

“And…” I said, the weight of everything pressing down on me. “More girls will pay the price.”