Page 199 of Three Irish Kings

A thrill rushes through me.

“Liam, did you just?—”

Cillian chuckles, then groans. “Don’t mention it, or he might not do it again.”

“I’ll call you whatever you want, Isla. You don’t like it?”

Isla blinks at me. “I love it. I'm just surprised.”

I chuckle. “I'm full of surprises. Now rest.”

She finally closes her eyes and is out in seconds.

“Where are we going?” Cillian asks quietly, as to not wake her.

“Europe. If Cormac made it, he’ll look all over the country for us. But he has no sway there.”

“Aye,” he responds, but there's something on his face I can't quite put my finger on.

“What's wrong, Cill?”

He sighs heavily. “I’m worried about your da. You’re right, we were no more than tools for him to have more power, he always used us. But I can’t help it.”

I slowly extricate myself from Isla and sit next to him on the bed.

He winces, and guilt floods me for hurting this man who has always had my back.

“You're still my brother, Cillian. Always will be. None of this changes that. And Da will be all right. Maria will take care of him. I’ll keep wiring her money, and everything will be fine.”

“And when he dies? What then?”

I sigh. “I'm not sure. Maybe by then, Cormac’s clan will have dissipated. Without him as the leader, I don’t think they’ll last.”

“Do you think Dare killed him?”

I nod. “I do. Cormac’s an old man, and all his top men were killed. I don’t think the paramedics could have gotten to him in time.”

Cillian glances over at Dare, who is sleeping peacefully.

“It was his first kill.”

“We’ll get him through it,” I promise, and I draw Cillian into a loose hug, probably the first one I’ve initiated since we were kids, and I wish I could make it tighter, but I don’t want to hurt him more than he is already.

He hugs me back tightly as Isla sits up, yawning.

“I love seeing my boys get along,” she drawls, and we break apart, laughing.

Cill groans. “Damn it. Stop making me laugh.”

We all laugh to that, him hugging himself to help with the pain.

Dare doesn’t rouse until the pizza comes, and he’s ravenous, eating four slices.

Isla eats two herself, and I’m grateful. I don’t know how she was treated at Cormac’s. I can’t even imagine it without rage filling my soul.

But everyone who hurt her is dead, God willing.

I’m not even jealous when Dare makes her laugh, or when she leans against Cillian, looping her arm through his. I’m happy watching them, my family.