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"I don't know," I answer honestly. "But what I do know is that no matter what happens, I'll always be here for you. To protect you, to support you. Whatever you need."

She gives me a small smile, wiping away a stray tear. "I guess that'll have to be enough for now."

As I drive away from Clodagh's house, my mind is racing. I've done what I set out to do—I've eliminated the immediate threat to her safety. But I know that as long as the Syndicate is out there, as long as there are people who want to use her to get to me, she'll never be truly safe.

I make a decision then and there. I'll do whatever it takes to dismantle the Syndicate, to eliminate every last threat to Clodagh's safety. And maybe, just maybe, when it's all over, we'll have our chance.

My cell rings and I don’t hesitate to answer. "We need to meet. It's time to take down the rat," Jer says. He doesn’t wait for me to answer; he just ends the call. The war isn't over, it’s just getting started, but I'm ready for whatever the fuck comes next.

* * *

I pull up to Jer's house, my mind still reeling from the events that happened in such a short space of time. The death of my father, the conversation with Clodagh, it all feels surreal. But I know I can't afford to dwell on it now. We have a traitor to deal with.

Jer and Maverick are waiting for me in the study, their faces identical, both pissed the fuck off.

"What's the situation?" I ask, getting straight to business.

Jer slides a folder across the desk to me. "We've finally found the leak. The false information we fed them has started to leak."

I open the folder, scanning the contents. A picture of a man sits before me. Michael Reeves. He’s one of the longest serving members of the Houlihan Gang. He’s one of the higher ups in the rankings.

I stare at the photo of Michael Reeves, feeling a mixture of anger and disappointment. He's been with us for years, trusted with sensitive information. And all this time, he's been feeding intel to our enemies.

"How long?" I ask, my voice tight with barely contained rage.

"At least six months," Maverick replies grimly. "Maybe longer. We're still piecing together the extent of the damage."

I clench my fists, thinking of all the operations that have gone sideways over the past year. How many of our people have been hurt or killed because of this bastard's betrayal?

"What's the plan?" I ask, looking up at Jer.

Jer's expression is hard and unforgiving. "We bring him in. Quietly. Find out everything he knows about the Syndicate's operations, and then..."

He doesn't need to finish the sentence. We all know how this ends for traitors.

"I want to be the one to do it," I say, my voice ice cold. I know there are other men who are more talented in torture methods, but this cunt betrayed us, and he was in cahoots with my father.

Jer studies me for a moment before nodding. "Alright. But, Emmanuel, we need him alive long enough to get information. Don't let your anger cloud your judgment."

I nod, understanding the unspoken warning. This isn't about revenge; it's about protecting our people and dismantling the Syndicate.

"When do we move?" I ask.

"Tonight," Maverick says. "We've got eyes on him now. He's at his usual bar, probably waiting to meet his Syndicate contact."

I know the job at hand. It’s a simple task. We get to him and bring him to a secure location—the prefab at the docks, a place where Jer brings a lot of his kills. Usually, it’s Maverick who takes them out. Tonight, I get to step up and do the honors.

We’re waiting outside the bar. Maverick’s beside me, as he always is, with Freddie driving and Stephen in the front passenger's seat. Any minute now, the fucker will be exiting the bar. He’s a creature of habit. Goes to the bar at seven and leaves by midnight.

It doesn’t take long before I see him exiting the bar. I slide out of the car, Maverick doing the same, and I approach. The moment he raises his head, he spots me. I see the moment recognition hits him, followed quickly by fear.

He bolts, but I'm faster. I catch him before the fucker can bolt through the alleyway.

"Going somewhere, Michael?" I growl in his ear.

"Emmanuel, please," he whimpers. "You don't understand?—"

I cut him off by twisting his arm behind his back. "Save it for Jer," I snarl as I push him toward the waiting van. As we drive away, I can't help but feel a small bit of satisfaction. We've caught the rat. Now it's time to make him squeal.

It takes us around forty minutes to get to the docks. The entire way there, the fucker cries and apologizes for betraying us. I ignore him, as do the others. Now isn’t the time to get into this. Fuck no. We’ll wait until we’re in place and ready to get every piece of information we need.

The prefab at the docks is dark and cold as we drag Michael inside.

Maverick secures him to a chair in the center of the room while I set up the tools we'll need.

My hands are steady, my mind focused. This isn't about anger or revenge anymore—it's about getting the information we need to take down the Syndicate.

"Please," Michael whimpers as I approach him. "I had no choice. They threatened my family?—"

"Save it," I cut him off coldly. "You had a choice. You could have come to us for help. Instead, you betrayed everyone who trusted you."

I see the moment he realizes there will be no mercy here. His eyes widen with fear as I pick up a pair of pliers.

"Now," I say, my voice eerily calm. "You're going to tell us everything. Every bit of information you passed to the Syndicate. Every contact, every safe house, every operation. And if you lie to me..." I let the threat hang in the air.

“Please, I don’t know much,” he says, his body shaking, and stupidly, I believe him. I doubt he does know much about their inner goings on, but he’ll know enough to help us.

“Who is your contact?” I demand.

“Trace Harrington,” he tells me. His entire body is trembling. He’s going to piss himself soon. He’s terrified.

Trace Harrington is the son of William “Mad Bill” Harrington. The Mob family for the Boston Elite Syndicate. Fucking bastard.

“What have you told them?” I snap, beyond pissed that this cunt has betrayed us and is so willingly giving up the information.

Michael flinches at my tone. "I... I told them about Jer and his operations, along with his close ties with the Gallaghers and the Devil’s Falcons MC. About our weapons shipments, the money laundering route, and Jer’s drug trade. They know about every man Jer has on payroll."

Christ, he sold us all out. I feel a surge of rage. My hand lashes out before I can stop myself, backhanding Michael across the face.

"What else did you tell them?" I demand, my voice dangerously low. I need to know if he told them about Clodagh. This cunt was one of the men who watched over her.

Michael cowers in his chair. "Just... that Jer has a lot of friends, a lot of people in his corner. That the only way to make his empire crumble is to take him out."

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. I can't let my anger cloud my judgment, not now when we need information.

"What else?" I press. "What are the Syndicate's plans?"

Michael hesitates, and I can see the fear in his eyes. He knows that once he tells us everything, he's outlived his usefulness.

"They... they're planning something big," he finally says. "I don't know all the details, but they're calling it Ace of Hearts. It's supposed to cripple everything."

I exchange a glance with Maverick. The fuck?

"When?" I ask.

"I don’t know. There’s no definitive timeline," Michael replies. "That's all I know, I swear."

I study him for a moment, trying to determine if he's telling the truth. His eyes are wide with fear, his body trembling. I don't think he has anything left to hide.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Michael," I say coldly, picking up a gun from the table.

"Wait!" he cries out. "I told you everything! You said?—"

"I said I'd make it quick if you cooperated," I interrupt. "And I'm a man of my word."

Before he can say another word, I raise the gun and pull the trigger. The sound echoes through the empty warehouse as Michael's body goes limp in the chair.

I turn to Maverick, my face grim. "We need to tell Jer about the Ace of Hearts, see if we can figure out what the fuck it is."

Maverick nods. "I'll make the calls. You okay?"

I holster my gun, looking back at Michael's lifeless body. "I will be. Once we take down the Syndicate and end this once and for all."

As we leave the warehouse, I can't shake the feeling that there is so much more to this than what we believe. The sooner we have an idea the fucking better. Right now, it’s a waiting game, and I’m not one to sit on my hands and do nothing.

I’d rather be pro-fucking-active. We have a name, now we have to see what needs to be done about it.

I say we end those bastards now, but I know Jer won’t go for that. Taking out two members of the Syndicate would cause widespread chaos. No, this needs to be done the right way. No matter how long it takes.

One by one, the syndicate will fall, and I for one will be happy to watch as they crumble.