Page 24 of Dark Succession (The O’Malleys #1)

He stepped onto the sidewalk and merged with the small crowd making their way inside.

A murmur went up in the people around him, and they stepped back as he climbed the stairs.

He was used to getting more than his fair share of attention—most of the parish knew what his family did for money—but his face must have appeared worse than he’d thought.

His youngest brother, Devlin, stood at the top of the stone steps, brows raised. “You look like you had an eventful night.”

Trust Devlin to understate things without rushing down to ask if he was okay. “You could call it that.”

“Father isn’t pleased.”

Of that he had no doubt. “Is he ever?”

Devlin fell into step with him as they walked into church.

Despite how bittersweet he found attending Mass, Our Lady of Victories was a sort of second home to Teague with its old-world architecture and feel—like stepping into the past. They stopped in the second pew, the one that was designated for the family despite their never officially being assigned seats.

But, every Sunday, it was empty and waiting.

Sloan looked up as he slid in next to her, and gasped quietly. Sometimes it seemed like she did everything quietly—a mouse who did her best to stay out of the spotlight of their parents’ attention. She put her hand on his forearm, her voice barely above a whisper. “Are you okay?”

“Right as rain.”

“Liar.”

He met her dark eyes, so similar to his own. “I’ll be okay. Promise.”

“You can’t promise that, and you know it.” She sat back and stared forward, her eyes shining in a way he was all too familiar with. He wanted to say or do something to comfort her, but she was right—he couldn’t promise shit.

It seemed like he was destined to piss off and upset every woman he cared about that he came in contact with today.

He sighed, grateful when the priest began speaking.

With the ease of long practice, he intoned the words and fell into the old familiar motions.

Sloan had always been the most sensitive of his siblings, and he hated causing her any kind of pain, but he was stuck.

Fuck, he was up to his neck and sinking fast. He wasn’t even aware that Devlin was moving until he slipped behind Teague and nudged him to the end of the aisle.

He wrapped his arm around their sister, leaning down to murmur something in her ear.

Devlin was the best of them all.

He’d thought it before, but it only became clearer as time went on.

His youngest brother always knew what to say or do to defuse a situation or comfort someone who was upset.

Teague should have thought that maybe Sloan needed a shoulder to lean on, even if he couldn’t say the words that would make everything okay.

But he hadn’t. It hadn’t even crossed his mind .

Just another way he’d failed his siblings.

He was still embroiled in his internal torment when the sermon wound to an end.

Ignoring his family, he stood and walked out of the church, needing fresh air.

No, he needed a whole hell of a lot more than fresh air.

But taking a second to breathe was all he could accomplish in this moment, so that was what he did.

Knowing someone would come looking for him before too long, he circled around the corner and stopped beneath the nearest tree. Shit. As much as he’d like to blame his current pounding headache on the beating last night, it wasn’t the truth.

“Smoke?”

He looked up, already knowing whom he’d see. “What are you doing here?”

Finch shrugged and passed over a cigarette. “Maybe I’m praying for my immortal soul.”

“Sure.” He snorted and lit up. It had been a while since his last cigarette, and he closed his eyes for a second to savor his first inhalation.

“Who tuned up your face?”

Teague flashed him a look. “Why? Are you going to get off your ass and arrest them?”

“I think I’m detecting some bitterness.” Finch laughed softly, not looking the least bit sorry. “You know we value you.”

Maybe. Maybe not. But the one thing he did know was that they valued their asses more.

There was some deeper game being played by the feds right now, but hell if he knew what it was.

Teague inhaled again. “I’d hate to think you’re sitting back and waiting for shit to hit the fan so you can mop the whole lot of us up. ”

Finch froze. He recovered almost instantly, but it was too late.

Teague knew. He huffed out a laugh, and once he started, he couldn’t stop.

“Oh God, you are. That’s the funniest shit I’ve heard all day.

” Even though he’d suspected he wouldn’t get any help from them, it was something else altogether to know it for sure.

He laughed again and shook his head. “You really are a bastard, Finch.”

“See you around.” He moved off, slipping into a doorway of a business further down the block mere seconds before someone called Teague’s name.

He crushed the cigarette beneath his shoe and turned.

As shitty as it was to realize he couldn’t count on the feds to help him out, it was better to know now rather than later—when he might actually be relying on them.

Or that’s what he told himself, even though part of him threatened to wallow in despair.

He was well and truly on his own.