Page 86 of Dublin Charmer

“Not to mention his reputation is smeared dog shit on the sidewalk,” Bryan adds. “Word is spreading about how badly he fucked up.”

I chuckle. “And how is it spreading if we’re being discreet?”

Bryan grins. “Kieran’s funnel of street kids might be leaking a few key points of interest into the world.”

“But he’s still out there,” Piper points out. “And he’s not the type to curl up and disappear. He’ll regroup. Find new muscle. And try again.”

“Not if we find him first,” Brendan growls.

“I can help with that,” Nyx offers. “I know his patterns, his hiding spots. The backdoors I built into his systems are still there. I can track him.”

The room falls silent, everyone looking at her with new respect. She’s not just my girl. She’s become one of us.

“Tomorrow,” I say firmly. “It can wait until tomorrow.”

Nyx raises an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Positive. We’re all running on fumes. Gravely’s licking his wounds. We’ve got guards posted everywhere. One night to rest won’t change the outcome.”

Sean nods slowly. “Finn’s right. We hit harder when we’re not dead on our feet.”

“Plus,” Nora adds with a small smile, “we have a new Quinn to welcome home tomorrow.”

That brings a round of tired smiles. Even in the midst of war, life goes on.

“Any word on a name?” Cora asks.

I shake my head. “Tag’s keeping it quiet until we’re all together.”

Conversation drifts to lighter topics—speculation about the baby’s name, stories of Tag as a child, gentle teasing about who’ll be the favorite uncle. The tension in the room gradually eases, replaced by the quiet comfort of family pulling together after weathering a storm.

Under the table, Nyx runs a hand over my thigh. When I look over, she’s watching me, a small, private smile on her lips.

In that moment, I know we’ve crossed a threshold.

Whatever comes tomorrow, whether it’s hunting Gravely, rebuilding our defenses, figuring out what this thing between us means, we’ll face it together.

But for tonight, we’ve earned a moment of peace.

The quiet after the storm.

Nyx

Morning light filters through the newly replaced windows, casting golden squares across the grand foyer’s polished floor. I lean against the wall, watching the Quinn family arrange themselves with military precision, every face alight with anticipation.

It’s strange being part of this ritual of family, of belonging.

The front door swings open, and Tag steps back to allow Laine and the baby to come in first. She’s carrying an infant car seat, their tiny bundle cradled in its protective shell and buried under a heap of soft cream and peach blankets.

The transformation on Tag’s face is remarkable. The tension of being a hardened crime boss is gone, replaced by a man completely undone by seven pounds of new life.

“Everyone,” Tag announces, his voice gentler than I’ve ever heard it, “meet Baby Quinn.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded document, handing it to Brendan, who unfolds it with unusual care.

“Caoimhe Katherine Quinn,” Harper reads over his shoulder, squinting at the spelling. “Cay-o-im-he?”

Bryan bursts out laughing, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Not even close, babe. It’s pronounced Kee-va.”

“It was our mother’s favorite girl name,” Sean says, his voice thick with emotion. “Every time she was expecting, she’d tell Da that if it’s a girl, her name would be Caoimhe.”