Page 4 of Cowboy (Fury Vipers MC: Dublin Chapter #4)

Panic surges through me. I quickly close the messages and lock the phone then shove it back into his jacket pocket. I grab a random book from his desk just as the door opens.

Dylan stands there, eyebrow raised. "Everything okay? You've been in here a while."

I hold up the book, forcing a smile. "Yeah, sorry. Got distracted looking at your stuff. You know how nosy I am."

He chuckles, but I can see the suspicion in his eyes. "Right. Well, dinner's almost ready. Auntie Trish actually cooked for once."

I nod, following him out of the room. My mind is reeling from what I've discovered. Dylan is involved in something serious, something potentially illegal. The thought makes my stomach churn.

As we sit down to dinner, I can barely focus on the conversation. My eyes keep darting to Dylan, seeing if I can uncover more. Whatever has gone on, it’s put him in danger. I can feel it. I just wish I knew a way to help him.

I push my food around my plate, my appetite gone. One thing's for certain: I can't let this go. Whatever trouble Dylan's in, I'm going to find a way to help him, whether he likes it or not. I just need to figure out how to do it without him catching on.

As Auntie Trish drones on about her day at work, I tune her out, my mind racing. Those text messages were clearly about some kind of job, but what kind of job requires secrecy and staying out of trouble? It has to be something illegal. The thought makes my stomach churn.

I glance at Dylan. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his shoulders are tense. He looks exhausted and on edge. Whatever he's involved in, it's taking a toll on him.

"Caoimhe? Are you listening?" Auntie Trish's sharp voice cuts through my thoughts.

I blink, focusing on her. "Sorry, what?"

She sighs dramatically. "I asked if you've finished your homework. You know how important your grades are if you want to get into a good university."

"Yes, I've finished it," I lie smoothly. Homework is the least of my concerns right now.

Dylan shoots me a look, knowing full well I haven't touched my schoolwork. But he doesn't say anything, just goes back to pushing food around his plate.

“I’ve got to go. I won’t be long,” Dylan tells us as he rises to his feet. He’s already finished his dinner, I don’t know how he manages to eat so quickly. He moves toward me and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Be good and do your homework,” he tells me.

My heart races as I watch him leave. I don’t want him to go. Whatever trouble he’s in, it could find him. I feel sick that he’s gone. I’m terrified something is going to happen to him.

“Caoimhe, what’s going on with you?” Auntie Trish asks. “You’re not eating and you look like you’re about to be sick.”

I shake my head. “Just not feeling well. I’m sorry. The dinner was lovely.”

Her eyes narrow slightly but she nods. “Go on up and rest. I’ll save it for you for later if you feel better.”

I nod gratefully and hurry up to my room, closing the door behind me. As soon as I'm alone, I start to pace my small room, chewing my lip. I’m worried about him.

A soft ping from my phone interrupts my thoughts. It's a text from Ciarán.

Ciarán: Hey, is Dylan there?

My heart races. This could be my chance to get some answers.

Me: No, he just left. Said he wouldn't be long. Is everything okay?

There's a long pause before Ciarán replies.

Ciarán: Yeah, fine. Just checking in. Let me know when he gets back?

The vague response only heightens my suspicion. I hesitate for a moment before typing out my next message.

Me: Ciarán, I know something's going on. Dylan's been acting weird for weeks. Please, tell me what's happening. I'm worried about him.

Another long pause. I hold my breath, hoping he'll finally give me some answers.

Ciarán: It's complicated, Caoimhe. Dylan doesn't want you involved.

Me: I'm already involved. He's my brother. Please, Ciarán. I need to know.

I don’t get a response and I know I’m not going to either. God, why can’t anyone tell me what the hell is going on?

* * *

I’m awoken by the doorbell ringing. I blink slowly as I come awake, wondering what happened. I glance down and see that I’m fully clothed and lying on my bed. I fell asleep waiting for Dylan to return.

Groggy and disoriented, I stumble out of bed and make my way to the front door. The clock on the wall shows it's past midnight. Who could be ringing the doorbell at this hour?

I see Auntie Trish at the door. Two members of the Gardaí stand on the doorstep, their faces unreadable.

“I’m really sorry to have to inform you of this, but we found Dylan Mallee’s body this evening.”

My legs buckle beneath me and I feel like I'm falling into a bottomless pit. The words echo in my head, but I can't make sense of them. Dylan's body? No, that can't be right. He just left a few hours ago. He said he wouldn't be long.

"There must be some mistake," I hear Auntie Trish saying, her voice trembling. "He's only sixteen. He was just here..."

One of the Gardaí, a woman with kind eyes, steps forward. "I'm so sorry, but there's no mistake. We found his identification on him. We need you to come to the station to make a formal identification."

The room starts to spin. This can't be happening. It can't be real. I want to scream, to tell them they're wrong, but no sound comes out. My throat feels like it's closing up.

"Caoimhe?" Auntie Trish's voice sounds far away. "Caoimhe, sweetheart, can you hear me?"

I feel hands on my shoulders, guiding me to sit down. The female Garda is kneeling in front of me, speaking softly, but I can't focus on her words. All I can think about is Dylan. His smile this morning. The worry in his eyes. The kiss on my cheek before he left.

Left and never came back.

A sob tears from my throat, and suddenly I'm crying uncontrollably. Auntie Trish wraps her arms around me, and I can feel her body shaking with her own sobs.

Through my tears, I see the Gardaí exchanging glances. The male officer steps forward. "We need to ask you both some questions. About Dylan's recent activities, his friends, any unusual behavior..."

His words snap me back to reality. The text messages. The secretive conversations. The job that required staying low and out of trouble. Whatever Dylan was involved in, it got him killed.

And Ciarán knows what it was.

I pull away from Auntie Trish, wiping my eyes. "I need to use the toilet," I manage to say.

Once inside the bathroom, I lock the door and pull out my phone with shaking hands. I dial Ciarán's number, praying he'll pick up.

"Hello?" His voice is groggy, like he's just woken up.

"Ciarán," I choke out. "Dylan's dead."

There's a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. "What? Caoimhe, what are you talking about?"

"The Gardaí are here. They found his body. Ciarán, what the hell was he involved in? What happened to my brother?"

"Jesus Christ," Ciarán whispers. Then, more urgently, he says, "Caoimhe, listen to me. Don't tell the Gardaí anything. Don't mention me, or any jobs, or anything unusual. Do you understand me?”

My heart pounds as I listen to Ciarán's urgent words. Part of me wants to scream at him, demand answers, but the fear in his voice stops me.

"Ciarán, please," I whisper, my voice breaking. "I need to know what happened to Dylan."

There's a long pause on the other end of the line. When Ciarán speaks again, his voice is low and strained. "I can't explain everything over the phone. It's not safe. But Dylan... he got caught up in something big. Something dangerous. We both did."

My mind races, trying to piece together fragments of information. "The job you were talking about? The one that required staying low?"

"Yeah," Ciarán sighs heavily. "Look, Caoimhe, I promise I'll explain everything. But right now, you need to focus on staying safe. Don't tell the Gardaí anything about what Dylan might have been involved in. Just say you don't know."

"But—"

"Please," Ciarán interrupts, his voice desperate. "Trust me on this. It's what Dylan would want. To keep you safe."

I close my eyes, tears streaming down my face. Every instinct is screaming at me to demand answers, to tell the Gardaí everything I know. But the fear in Ciarán's voice, the memory of Dylan's worried eyes... it holds me back.

"Okay," I whisper finally. "I won't say anything."

"Good," Ciarán says, relief evident in his voice. "I'll contact you soon. Stay safe, Caoimhe."

The line goes dead, leaving me alone with my swirling thoughts and crushing grief. I take a deep, shaky breath, trying to compose myself. Outside, I can hear Auntie Trish talking to the Gardaí, her voice thick with tears.

I splash some water on my face, steeling myself for what's to come. As I exit the bathroom, the female Garda approaches me, her eyes full of sympathy.

"Caoimhe, isn't it?" she asks gently. "I know this is difficult, but we need to ask you a few questions about your brother. Is that okay?"

I nod, my throat tight. As we sit down in the living room, I can feel the weight of their expectant gazes. I take a deep breath, Ciarán's words echoing in my mind.

"I'm sorry," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, "but I don't know anything. Dylan... he never talked about what he was doing. He always said he was just working."

The Gardaí exchange glances and I see the doubt in their eyes.

But I do exactly as Ciarán told me to. I repeat the same story no matter how they phrase their questions.

By the time they leave, promising to be in touch about formal identification procedures, I'm exhausted and a crying mess. I can barely speak.

I can’t believe this. Dylan’s gone and he’s never coming back.

I’m all alone. My family is gone.