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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Sean

IT HAS BEEN two weeks since we found Saoirse. She’s is struggling with the withdrawals. The baby appears healthy, but the longterm consequences are uncertain. Keira and her mentor Dr. Moro have an entire team dedicated to watching over her and giving her the best care possible. Grady has taken it upon himself to check on her daily.

Turns out Saoirse’s father, Eoghan is MIA, and the wife is on another bender. Everyone knows she’s an alcoholic. It’s part of the reason her dad enrolled her in boarding school.

Last anyone in the family knew, the dad had full custody of his daughter and was keeping her away from her mother.

Grady is now on the hunt for the father. Killian was helping him as best he can, but we are finally gaining ground on the Street Soldiers, so dividing his focus was hurting us more than helping.

We decided to sit down with our allies, and see what we could collectively do. Grady is now working with Ivan’s team to find Eoghan. Killian is working with Luca to coordinate attacks against the Cartel. And Callum, Massimo and I have been put in charge of the Street Soldiers.

It’s taking me away from Tara more than I would like. I just hope she understands. I’m doing this for her. For our baby. I want the streets of Chicago safe for when our baby is born.

I know I’ve been neglecting her. She was so sweet coming to the hospital to offer comfort. Then to ensure neither Grady nor I needed to leave for fear of missing an update, Tara was the one to get us drinks and snacks.

Since that day, I think I’ve seen her twice. We were texting everyday, but with the hours I’m spending in the basement increasing, I haven’t had a chance to respond to her. It’s looking like another long night for me tonight.

We finally found the Street Soldier’s main headquarters. We’re hitting them tonight. In a few moment’s I’ll give the signal.

Killian is certain we are getting closer to Patrick. Or, at the very least, closer to destroying his alliance with the Street Soldiers, and the Cartel. Without one or both of them, his operation should crumble.

Adrenaline courses through my veins as I prepare my mind for the fight. I need focus. I need to take this house down. I need to get out safe.

I give the signal and my team of men storm the front. Callum is up high, giving directions to the teams at the back of the building. It takes us fifteen minutes to clear the building. We walked in with twenty men. We walked out with twenty.

For the Street Soldiers, I count seven warm bodies, and twenty-seven cold. They aren’t trained the way our men are. They don’t have the same commitment or loyalty. As soon as the shooting started they scattered, leaving their so called ‘brothers’ to die.

Not that it mattered in the end. Whether they ran or not, we shot them. If they surrendered we either shot them, or are taking them with us to shoot later.

Callum and I stand by the vans as our guests are loaded up. Once secure, the team moves on with dousing the house in accelerant. Once everything is ready, Callum goes to hand me a lighter. “You want the honor?” He asks.

“Nah.” I say. “Let’s do it together.” I reply as I pull my own lighter from my pocket.

Callum smiles. We all smile as the house goes up in flames.

The bright burning corpse of the Street Soldier’s house is a reminder, a promise, to those who try to betray the Doyle Irish Mob, we will come after you, we will find you, and we will cut you down.

We don’t linger. We’ve still got work to do.

While Callum and the men get our guests situated in the basement, I head up to my office. My clothes are sticky with blood, and I’m in desperate need of a drink.

My mind has such a narrow focus, that I don’t pay attention to my surroundings as I enter my office and walk straight to my whiskey.

As soon as I pour a glass, I hear a gasp from behind me.

“Sean?”

Fuck.

It’s Tara. What is she doing here?

I turn around. My arms itch to go to her and pull her close. I need her light. Her warmth, but I can’t. I’m covered in blood. I’ll have to settle for seeing her face. Hearing her voice.

Our eyes connect for a brief moment before hers go wide and I watch as they travel down my torso, to my arms, and down to my shoes. “Is that….”

She doesn’t finish her sentence. Instead, she runs to the garbage can and proceeds to vomit.

Fuck.

The look in her eye will haunt me for the rest of my life. She’s terrified of me.

Knowing I need to leave, I practically run from the room.

Rian and Oscar are at the door. “Get her out of here!” I bark. “NOW!”

Then I storm to the basement. These fuckers are in for a long night.