Page 23 of The Final Contract (The Black Ledger Billionaires #5)

S eraphina’s body is burned behind my eyelids every time I blink: the arch of her spine, her head thrown back, the sound of her voice breaking as she moaned my name. The way her fingers teased herself raw, soaking me every time she shattered.

I made her come until she was trembling, until she drenched me, until my bed was ruined in her pleasure and my cock refused to work anymore.

And still, it doesn’t feel like enough.

But I’ve got to push that back—lock it down. Especially where Finn and I are headed.

Irish territory.

We’ve passed through before—you can’t walk two blocks in this city without brushing up against their grip—but this is different.

This is the heart, the epicenter: where the leaders live and breathe the business, where the enterprise spreads out like veins of poison, and where my brother sits like a king on a throne.

The kind of place I swore I’d never set foot in again.

Nora meets us in the back of a narrow bar, tucked away where the noise won’t travel. She doesn’t waste time, ushering in a skinny kid who looks like he hasn’t slept since birth, his apron still damp from dishwater.

“Go on, then,” Nora says, giving him a push forward.

He wrings his hands, glancing between me and Finn like he’s about to be gutted.

Finn softens his voice just enough. “Nothin’ will happen to you, lad. Just tell us what you saw.”

The boy swallows, eyes darting between the three of us. “I don’t want trouble with Cormac,” he blurts, voice cracking. “If he finds out I talked to you?—”

I cut him off, my tone low and final. “My brother won’t hear a word of this. He’s not part of it. This isn’t an Irish problem.”

The relief on his face is faint but enough to keep him talking.

The kid swallows before he cuts into it. “It was during the trainin’ last night. Ledger crew of servers bein’ trained for the Masquerade. Nothin’ unusual there—they were expected. But…there was one man with them. A late add-on. His name wasn’t on the roster.”

My jaw tightens. “And no one questioned it?”

The kid shakes his head quickly. “He acted like he belonged. Just sat there in the back, quiet as anything. Didn’t talk, didn’t move much, just watched.”

“Watched who?” I snap.

The boy’s eyes dart up, then drop back to the floor. “Not the girls. That’s the odd part. He didn’t so much as look at them. Just sat there, watchin’ the other servers until it was time to go out on the floor.”

My jaw tightens. “And?”

“He never picked up a tray. Not once. I noticed because the rest of us were runnin’ like dogs all night, sweatin’ to keep up. But him? He just sat out on the floor a bit, hat pulled low, phone out like he was recordin’ somethin’. Then he was gone. Didn’t see him again the rest of the night.”

Finn leans forward, his tone low but firm. “Anything else stick out?”

The kid hesitates, then nods. “Aye. His eyes. One brown, one blue. He looked right at me before he left.” The boy shudders. “Creeped me out somethin’ fierce.”

Finn and I lock eyes, and it’s all we need: no words. It was him. The kid saw his face—clear as day. Until now, the only person who’s ever laid eyes on the bastard was Seraphina, and she doesn’t remember enough to point him out.

I lean in. “Think you could sit with someone, go through a description? Help us sketch him out?”

The boy nods quickly. “Aye. But I’ve gotta be back at the club by eight. Next trainin’ shift.”

That grates. “Why’re you workin’ for Lucian? Cormac finally easin’ up on the Italians?”

The kid scoffs, shaking his head. “You know he’ll never do tha’. I got myself in a way, and Lucian helped me out. Said I could work it off. Club’s out of Irish territory, so Cormac hasn’t out?—”

“Yet,” Nora says.

I think a minute, then nod. Some of this heat is my fault—my fault and Lucian’s. I know my brother will carry the grudge for years. The Irish will keep coming for the Italians until they are satisfied they’ve paid in blood.

This kid doesn’t need to be wrapped up in that.

Had I not killed my cousin—pushed my brother onto the Irish throne early—things wouldn’t be like this.

“If you get in a way again, you come to me first.”

The boy swallows, nodding. “Aye. I will.”

“Good lad.” Finn ruffles his hair. “Let us go out the back first, then give us a few minutes before ya head out.”

Finn and I turn to leave, but the kid calls after me. “Oy, Kill…schools were better when you were here, y’know. Fuckin’ all the teachers an’ such.”

Finn barks a laugh so loud it rattles the glasses behind the bar.

Nora cuffs the kid upside the head. “Watch your feckin’ mouth or I’ll tell yer mother what you’re up to.”

He rubs the spot, grinning like a devil. “It’s true, though. Things were better when Kill was here. Just…don’t tell Cormac I said so.”

Finn and I slip out the back, the air sharp as knives, my mind turning over what the boy gave us: one brown eye, one blue. A ghost who doesn’t carry trays, doesn’t belong, leaves no trace but a camera feed.

Finn mutters low as we cut down the alley. “Could be one of the Italians. Could be some rogue client who thinks he’s owed. Could be?—”

“Could be anyone,” I finish, jaw tight. “That’s the problem. He’s hidin’ in plain sight. And if he was bold enough to walk into a Ledger trainin’, he’s?—”

Before I can finish, two black cars screech to a stop, boxing us in. Doors open, men spill out, and the weight in my gut tells me who it is before he even steps into the light.

Cormac.

My brother.

He doesn’t rush. He strolls, hands in his pockets, his men fanned wide. His smirk is the same one he wore at sixteen when he cut his first throat—when he realized he liked it.

“Well, well,” he drawls, Irish lilt sharp as a blade. “Look what crawled back onto Irish soil. Didn’t think we’d see the O’Malley family’s shame in this part of town. Sorry, it’s Shaw now, right?”

My brother looks just like me: a few inches shorter, not as thick. Where I have a short beard, he’s clean shaven. It somehow makes him look more sadistic and vulnerable at the same time.

I don’t move. “I’m not here for you, Cormac.”

“You’re not supposed to be here at all.” His smirk curdles. “Lucian’s dog, sniffin’ round territory that doesn’t belong to him.”

My hand twitches toward my knife, but I don’t pull. I don’t need to. My silence is enough, and Finn’s steady at my side—a shadow with teeth.

Then the bar door bangs open, and the kid steps out. He freezes the second he sees the cars, the guns. He should have waited longer before leaving.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath and shift, blocking him from Cormac’s view. “He’s not part of this. Just a kid leaving his job.”

Cormac tilts his head, eyes narrowing. His men twitch, hungry for an excuse.

“Let him walk,” I say, voice low but hard.

For a beat, the air hums, sharp with the weight of choice. Then Cormac chuckles—mean and humorless. “Still got that soft spot for kids, do you? Thought I beat that out of you years ago.”

The kid pats my shoulder twice and slips away, bolting down the alley while I keep my eyes locked on my brother.

Cormac circles me, slow, like he’s sizing up prey. He’s younger, but his eyes are old with rot.

“What are you here for?” he asks.

“None of your business,” I say flatly.

His smirk widens. “And what if I make it my business?”

I square up, my voice a razor’s edge. “Then it’ll be the last decision you make, little brother.”

The chuckle that leaves him is humorless. His men tense, hands twitching like they’re waiting for a signal.

Cormac lifts his hand, shapes his fingers into a gun, and closes one eye like he’s sighting down a barrel. He clicks his tongue, mimics a recoil, aiming straight at my head.

“Mind your days, Kill. You’ve a debt to repay. A big one. Killing our own cousin is going to cost you,” he spits on the ground, “and your Italian handler.”

I take one step closer, close enough that he has to tilt his chin up to meet my eyes. “Funny thing about debts, little brother—they only matter if I let you live long enough to collect.”

I hold my brother’s stare a moment longer than appropriate so he will be sure to feel the weight of those words.

“Enjoy sitting at the head of the table, Cormac, and remember—you’re only sitting there because I walked away.” I take a measured step back and Finn does too.

His gaze flicks down, landing on my thigh. A dark chuckle rolls out of him. “Still carryin’ it, eh?” His chin jerks toward the strap. “The knife our father gifted us.”

My hand brushes the hilt—casual, deliberate. “Yeah. Difference is, I know how to use mine.”

His men stiffen, hands twitching at their jackets, but Cormac only smiles wider—sharp and thin.

I’m done here.

We turn; Finn slides into the driver’s seat as I drop into the passenger. The engine roars, and as we pull away I catch my brother in the sideview mirror.

Cormac stands in the street, hands loose at his sides, that wolf’s grin carved into his face—watching. And I know if I were to come back, he would still be waiting.