Page 20 of Velvet Chains (The Dark Prince of Boston #2)

Chapter Eighteen: Kieran

B ack rooms were meant for secrets, and today, we had more than our share.

The club wasn’t open yet—not this early.

The floor was still sticky from last night, and the speakers hadn’t been tested, but the privacy it offered was worth the sour smell of vodka and sweat.

Liam was already pacing when I arrived—hoodie inside out, half a shave, twitchy in that way he got when something was slipping through his fingers.

“You look like shit,” I said.

“I feel like shit. Sit down.”

I did as he told me. The office here was dark, even with the dim light bulb illuminating it. My dad had furnished this club and the chairs were red and ugly, with tall backs and wooden details. At least they were comfortable.

I sat down next to Liam, scanning the room for any clues as to what the fuck might be going on.

“You don’t look much better yourself,” Liam said, setting his gaze on me.

“I think it’s a Callahan thing.”

Liam twisted his mouth. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised,” he said. He reached for a folded memo on the table and slid it toward me with two fingers.

I picked it up and scanned it. Homeland Security. FBI. Boston DA. Joint memo. Internal distribution only. My name. Ruby Marquez. Callahan Imports flagged as a “known laundering vector.”

The bottom line? Lots of really bad shit.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Pulled it from a friend of a friend’s inbox,” Liam said. “One of the junior prosecutors in Boston had their credentials used to log a memo into DOJ channels last night. That document wasn’t supposed to be public. Which means someone’s spooked.”

I sank into the closest chair. “Is this about the port?”

“Yeah. Secondary inspection flagged a container. Number was on your roster. Courier panicked and ran.”

“They weren’t supposed to run.”

“Well, they did. Which means the container’s sitting in secondary now with a bunch of dogs sniffing around, and Customs didn’t call you because they think it’s federal.”

“What difference does that make? We have guys in Customs to flag shit like this, whether federal or not.”

“Yeah, well, our guys are spooked,” Liam said. “Which is so fucking stupid. They should be afraid of us, not them.”

“They are afraid of us, little brother. That’s why they called you. To fix it.”

Liam shrugged. “I don’t know if I can fix this,” he said.

I scrubbed a hand down my face. “Christ.”

Liam pulled out his phone, tapped it a few times, then held it out to me. I looked at the screen…then let a breath hiss out past my teeth.

On the screen was a photo of a black van parked across from Ruby’s place. Timestamped for two nights ago.

“They’ve had eyes on her,” he said.

I swallowed hard. “How long?”

“Since Russell,” Liam said. “That’s when it started. You pulled the trigger, but they were already watching. She’s part of it now, whether she wants to be or not.”

“It’s probably been longer than that,” I said. “There was a van there…when the Mickey thing happened. I told Ruby it was some junkies, but I don’t think it was.”

“Yeah, that was definitely a federal van,” Liam said. “Fuck, this really is bad.”

“What I don’t understand is why they were following Ruby. Or, I don’t know, Mickey Russell. Why did they care about Russell in the first place?”

“I don’t know that. I don’t know a lot of things,” he said. “But something about it is pretty fishy. And it feels like the FBI is guessing, but they’re close.”

The door opened.

Tristan walked in looking both better-rested and more pissed off than either one of us, crossing the room with the confidence of a man who knew he owned this city. His suit was tailored within an inch of its life, dark gray, spotless.

He looked like our father.

And he looked even more like him when he stopped at the table and tossed a folder down between us.

“You told him?” I asked Liam, glaring daggers at him.

“Yes, Kieran, he told me. This is my operation,” Tristan said. “Did you forget who’s boss here?”

“No, boss,” I said through a sharp smile. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“I know this doesn’t come naturally to you, but do you want to try not being an asshole?” Tristan asked.

“This is fun, but we have a real problem here, so can you two fight later?” Liam asked. “My money is on Tristan.”

“You’re rude,” I said to my little brother.

Tristan laughed, but when I looked at him, he wasn’t smiling. “He’s right. This is an issue,” he said, then tilted his head toward the folder. “That’s a manifest from the last six shipments,” he said. “Every one of them was flagged for audit after arrival. Quietly. Deliberately.”

“And Customs didn’t call us?” I asked. “Not even the higher-ups?”

“They’re working with the feds. Have been for a while. Boston’s DA office got looped in last week,” Tristan said.

“Is Ruby’s signature on it?” I asked, despite myself.

“Well, she’s the DA, so yes,” Tristan said. “Her signature is on it.”

I said nothing.

Liam sat on the edge of the table. “They’re building a case. Using her as bait.”

Tristan turned to me. “And are you going to tell me how the fuck that woman became a liability?”

“She’s not.”

“She’s the DA,” Tristan snapped. “And you fucked her.”

“That’s not—”

He cut me off. “You killed Mickey Russell. For her. You’ve been sloppy ever since. And now our distribution line is compromised, our containers are flagged, and your name’s in a DOJ memo alongside hers.”

“She didn’t flip.”

Tristan stared. “She didn’t flip because she’s the law, you fucking dumbass. Which part of this don’t you get?”

I rubbed my temple, pain flaring through my head. This was far worse than I thought. “I know. I do. But we have leverage over her,” I said.

“How does leverage help me when the feds are on my ass, using her as an in?” Tristan snapped. Then he let out a heavy sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. “I should’ve just put a bullet in her head the moment she became a problem.”

My vision tunneled.

No.

I was on my feet before I even realized it, chair scraping across the floor with a violent screech. “Don’t you fucking say that again.”

Tristan looked at me, unimpressed. “It’s a hypothetical, Kieran—”

“No, it’s not.” My voice was low, shaking. “It’s a threat. And if you ever even think about hurting her again, I will make you regret it. I don't care that you're my brother. I will end you.”

He stared, lips pressed into a thin line.

I took a breath, trying—failing—to keep my hands steady. “You’re not thinking this through. The FBI isn’t just after a Callahan operation. They want the full narrative. They want headlines. And I handed them one.”

He frowned.

“I confessed to killing Russell. For her. Because of her. That’s what they’re going to dig into. And now they’re watching her? You don’t think they’re spinning a story already? A dirty DA in bed with a Callahan? They don’t even have to prove it—they just have to sell it.”

“I think you’re blinded by this woman,” Tristan said coldly.

Liam leaned forward, watching us both. Then he nodded once. “Wait. No. He’s right. Hear him out.”

Tristan rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’m listening.”

“She’s not involved in the operation,” I said quietly.

“She doesn’t know anything. But they don’t need her to be involved to take her down.

They just need proximity. Optics. If they make it look like the DA's in bed with the mob—literally and politically—that's enough to tank her and take us down with her.”

Liam muttered, “Holy fuck. That’s why they’re circling her. She’s the scalp.”

My stomach dropped. Not just because they were right—but because I’d made her the easiest target. I hadn’t protected her. I’d handed her over, gift-wrapped in guilt.

The air in the room turned stale. This…it wasn’t about love anymore. This was about optics, power, legacy—and I’d fucked all three.

If they came for her, I didn’t know who I’d shoot first—the feds, or my own family.

You can’t serve two masters. But I’d tried. And now we were all about to burn.

Including my own fucking daughter. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Tristan’s eyes narrowed. “And you gave them the rope.”

“I didn’t mean to,” I snapped.

“No,” Tristan said, voice like ice. “But now we clean it up.”

He turned to Liam. “I want the entire port operation scrubbed. Every file. Every manifest. Every name. If Customs has anything else tagged, reroute it to Jersey or shut it down entirely.”

Liam nodded, already moving to pull out his phone. “I’m on it.”

“And you.” Tristan’s gaze shifted to me. “You’re on damage control.”

“With Ruby?”

“With everyone.” His tone sharpened. “You’re the reason we’re in this mess, so you’re going to be the one to start pulling us out.”

“What if she’s not the leak?”

Tristan’s expression twisted. “Then we have an even bigger problem than I thought. And we’re all in deep fucking shit, so you better pray it’s your girlfriend. If she’s not the leak, you better find a way to make her part of the solution.”

He took a step toward me.

“Otherwise, she’s part of the problem.”

Another step.

“And we deal with problems the Callahan legacy way.”

I opened my mouth—to argue, to plead, I didn’t even know—but he moved faster than I expected. Tristan grabbed me by the collar and slammed me back against the wall, hard enough to rattle the cheap frames behind me.

“Jesus, Kieran,” Liam said, taking a step in to get involved—but Tristan shot him a glare that made both of us stop breathing.

“You think this is just about you?” he hissed. “You think I want to be like him?”

His breath was hot against my cheek, eyes wild.

“I’ve got a wife. I’ve got a little girl who still thinks I hung the fucking moon, two little boys who have no idea the kind of life we lived and never fucking will.

I built something outside of this, Kieran.

I bled for it. And I’ll burn your whole fucking world to the ground before I let you or anyone else take that from me. ”

I could feel the fury rolling off him, but there was something else there too—fear. Love. The kind that turns men into monsters.

He let go of my collar with a shove.

“Fix it,” he said. “Or I will.”

I stood there, chest heaving, fists clenched. Tristan turned and stalked out of the room, his shoes echoing like a warning across the club floor before he walked out into the morning light and slammed the door shut behind him.

Liam waited a beat, then turned to me. “You all right?”

“Peachy.”

He smirked faintly. “You still love her?”

I didn’t answer…because it didn’t need saying. Of course I still loved her; I always had.

And Tristan wasn’t the only one with a little girl to protect. Not anymore.