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FORTY-THREE

MOIRA

I spot Mads instantly. She’s the only person in this place who looks like she could both kill a man and file her nails while doing it.

“Bitch!” I launch at her, wrapping my arms around her like a clingy octopus. She stands there like a goddamn lamppost , stiff and unyielding, which only makes me squeeze harder.

“Moira,” she wheezes.

I release her with a dramatic flourish. “Look at you! Out and about in the daylight. I’m gonna start calling you Daywalker.”

She snorts, glancing over her shoulder, then scanning the bar like she’s waiting for someone to jump out of the shadows. The bar is dim, the kind of place where the wood is dark and sticky, the air smells like stale beer, and the neon lights buzz just a little too loudly.

I narrow my eyes. “You got a stalker?”

“What?” Mads lets out a laugh that’s a little too loud. “What do you wanna drink?” She heads for the bar, then glances sideways at me. “Wait. Are you even old enough to drink yet?”

I roll my eyes so hard they almost fall out of my head. “Ha ha. We’re practically the same age.”

She rolls hers harder . “Cute. I’m a hundred and seventeen years your senior in trauma years.”

I wince. Unfortunately, fair point . I only know the barest facts of what her father put her through, and even that is enough to make my blood curdle.

For a second, I wonder if Domhnall knows she’s here. Then I remember—stupid question. He wouldn’t approve of her hanging out with me. Not that it’s up to her fiancé to approve shit, but I doubt he’d be thrilled about us kicking it like besties over a couple of beers.

“I’ll take a beer,” I tell the bartender.

The guy looks between me and Mads, his gaze flicking just a little too long down to her cleavage. “You sure? Not more shots?”

I shove Mads to the side before she can open her mouth and get us in real trouble. “Two beers,” I say, deadpan.

He huffs but turns to grab them.

“You can close out her tab, too,” Mads says, and he brings me the receipt to sign.

Then I snag both and head for a table. Mads trails after me, looking far too amused. “Look at baby bear all grown up,” she coos, ruffling my hair.

I bat her hand away and take a long pull from my beer, meeting her gaze over the rim. “So, you just wanna hang, or are we actually gonna talk about the fact that you snuck back into your own damn house like a teenager past curfew?” Then I think about how long ago that was. Months now. “Damn, it really is about time we just hung out like this.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, that was nothing .”

Then she tips her head back and chugs her beer. Not a sip. Not a gulp. Just a long, steady pour down her throat until the bottle is almost empty. She slams it back on the table with a sigh, elbows propped up, eyes a little watery.

I just stare. “Right. Totally normal behavior.”

She licks a drop of beer from her lip and leans in. “It’s you I wanna hear about. You got something going on with that priest I met a while back?”

I freeze mid-sip. I was not expecting her to ask about that . People think I’m chaotic, but Mads? She’s on a whole different level. We don’t do casual heart-to-hearts about our personal lives over beers.

And, well. There’s also the tiny, insignificant fact that I haven’t told anyone I got married.

I set my beer down, clearing my throat. “Yeah. We’ve got a little something going on.”

Mads nods like that makes sense. “Sure. Sure. But it’s not serious, right? Isn’t that like, your whole thing? Not serious?”

I take another swig, buying myself a second. Yeah. Yeah, not serious was my whole thing. No attachments, no expectations, no letting people in.

But here I am, letting someone in.

I set my beer down with a little clunk and rub my nose. “Uh. It’s… pretty serious.”

Mads frowns. “But you don’t do serious.”

I tilt my head at her. “What the fuck, Mads? Why do you care?”

She exhales hard and glances toward the door like she’s debating something. Then she leans in close, eyes dark, voice low, words sharp enough to slice right through me.

“Look, I’m sorry, baby girl, but I need you to break it off with the priest. For your brother’s sake.”

What the actual fuck?

I sit up straighter in my chair, eyes narrowing. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Mads gives me a look like she’s debating throwing her drink in my face.

“Bad guy math,” she says. “You had to go play hero at that dumb Christmas thing and drag your big dumb boyfriend into the spotlight with you and me. Well, guess what?”

She leans back, arms crossed. “Some not-so-nice people saw that photo. People I’d rather keep avoiding .”

I blink. “We were only out there because of you !” I wave my arm for emphasis.

“I had it handled!” She waves hers even more dramatically. “Before you brought the fucking Avengers outside and made a front-page-worthy spectacle.”

“Who even are these people?” I demand. “And why the fuck would they care about me ?”

Mads levels me with a look so flat it could be a table. “They don’t care about you , dumbass. They care about him . Heir to the richest man alive? Ring any bells?”

Oh. Right. That .

“But he gave up his inheritance,” I argue, grasping at straws that are rapidly turning to dust in my hands.

Mads laughs, a sharp, unpleasant sound. “Is that what he told you? Because Daddy Warbucks apparently disagrees . Bane is still the heir apparent.”

I shake my head. “Okay, fine. Still don’t see what any of this has to do with me .”

Mads exhales like she’s talking to a particularly stupid puppy. “I don’t know, blackmail ? Someone else wants you out of the way so they can marry their pet chess piece off to Bane? There could be a hundred reasons.”

She leans in, voice dropping lower. “All I do know is that the charming sociopaths my father used to make me work for have now tracked me down. And they’re working for someone who wants you out of the picture. They’ve given me a nice little ultimatum: get you to dump the priest and disappear, or they kill me, Domhnall, and you .”

I stare at her.

She stares back.

“I’m thinking we call it ‘rehab,’ and you go sip pina coladas on a beach somewhere. Maybe the Riviera. I hear it’s nice in the spring.”

I let out a laugh, short and disbelieving. “Kill us?”

Mads doesn’t even blink. “Did I fucking stutter?”

But I was just… I was just putting on a pretty outfit this morning so Bane would notice me. I was worrying about stupid shit like whether I should get out of bed , not fucking life-or-death decisions .

I slam my hands on the table. “What the fuck did you get us into?!”

Mads just shakes her head, mouth a hard line. “Oh, you got yourself into this one all on your own, baby girl. You should be grateful for my connections. At least I’ve got a way to get us out.”

I glare at her. “You’re not who I thought you were.”

Her face stays hard. “I never am.”

I suck in a breath, my heart pounding. “Do you even love Domhn?”

Her hand whips out, a sharp forefinger in my face. “Don’t you ever question my love for that man. He’s the only thing I’ve ever loved in this whole blood-fucked world.”

Then she pushes back from the table, chair scraping. “Now come on. Time to go break up with your boy toy.”

I stay frozen, my brain short-circuiting. It’s all moving way too fast. But Mads is already grabbing my arm and hauling me up like I weigh nothing.

“Fuck,” I hiss. “Why do you have to be so rough ?”

She just keeps dragging me toward the front of the bar. “Sorry, kid. Not all of us were raised to live in cotton candy houses with peppermint dreams.”

Once we hit the sidewalk, I yank out of her grasp. “Wow, you really are a bitch. And there’s just one little problem with your brilliant plan.”

She crosses her arms. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

I smirk, wiping sweat from my palms onto my jeans. “We got married. The priest and me.”

For once, something I say actually shocks Mads. She blinks. “Well, shit.”

But she doesn’t even have time to process what I’ve said before a white van screeches to a stop right next to the curb. The doors fly open, and six men in black gear and face masks spill out like a fucking nightmare.

They grab us.

Mads kicks. I scream .

We fight like hell.

It doesn’t matter.

We’re dragged into the van, kicking and cursing, and the doors slam shut behind us.

I barely have time to breathe before the van takes off .

Well.

This is new.