Patrick

As we walked out of the house, I heard the muffled sound that I knew was the shot. Declan and I said nothing until we got into the waiting vehicle and were on our way.

“A fucking coward,” he said.

“You think so?” I asked.

He nodded slowly. “He should have forced your hand. Made you do it.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because principles matter, having the code matters. A man’s word matters.”

I looked at Declan, knew that we were no longer talking about Rockwell. It had taken me a moment to catch on because my mind was so preoccupied with what I planned to do next.

I paused but then went ahead. “It has to be done, Declan. It will be done.”

“I know it looks that way, and I know how you feel—”

“You have no idea how I feel,” I muttered.

I knew that he didn’t, because I didn’t. Well, not entirely. I knew that for all the shit Aengus had put me and my family through, the years of suffering, pain at his hands, I had never been more afraid than I was in those moments when I thought I might lose Nya.

The realization was mind-blowing, so much so that I couldn’t even really think about it, certainly couldn’t process it, couldn’t talk it out with Declan.

But the anger that burned through me, sometimes dimming, sometimes burning bright, but never, ever fading, that I understood. And that would be satisfied.

We reached my home and got out of the vehicle, and I dismissed the driver.

Declan made no attempt to leave, and when I entered the house I wasn’t surprised to find Michael and Sean waiting for us.

“Don’t you have more important shit to be doing?” I asked.

“No,” Sean said.

My usually jovial baby brother was so calm, dead serious, none of his usual good cheer apparent. He reminded me so much of the morning after the hotel, when they had all come together, intent on protecting me, helping me protect her.

Now, the tables had turned.

They were here to protect him.

“Are you really going to take his side?” I asked.

I looked at Michael, waited for his response. Of the four of us, he was the most disinclined to stand up for Aengus, seemed to put the least stock in our vow. I expected something besides his silence, maybe some indication that he agreed with me, but there was nothing.

“You have anything to say, Michael?”

“I’ll say this. You know we all hate that fucker, and I already have the bottle of champagne we’re going to drink over his grave. But you made a promise, and you made us make a promise. Breaking your word, everything you taught us to believe, over him isn’t worth it.”

I held his gaze for a moment, looked over at Sean, could see his agreement. Then I turned, looked at Declan.

“I’m the head of this family. I do what I want,” I said, and right now I wanted to kill Aengus Murphy no matter what I’d promised or to whom.

“You are the head of this family, but you’re our brother, and we aren’t going to let you do something that you’ll regret,” Declan said.

I looked at Declan’s inflexible expression, could see that there would be no bending.

I wouldn’t bend either, not on this.

I squared to face him, glared at him from the scant inches in height that separated us.

“I’m walking out of the door, Declan. You can step aside and let me go, or I can kick the shit out of you and then leave. Your choice,” I said.

I meant every word.

Declan and I hadn’t fought since we were children, but I was ready to end that decades long streak now.

“If that’s what it takes, Pat,” Declan said.

I ignored his use of that nickname, the mournful tone to his voice, and instead paid attention to his body.

He had squared up to face me, kept his hands easy at his sides, but I knew the apparent relaxation was a ruse. Declan was ready, and so was I.

I looked at him, knew that Michael and Sean wouldn’t intervene. It was an old dynamic, and though I had broken up my share of skirmishes between the two of them, Michael, Sean, and I had never gotten into a physical fight. That wouldn’t change today, but whatever it was, age, respect that held the others back, it didn’t bind Declan.

This was going to be a fight, but I was ready for it.

“Have it your way, asshole,” I said on a growl.

In the next breath I charged, was centimeters away from Declan when I stopped in my tracks.

“Patrick?”

I was surprised I’d been able to hear her voice over the adrenaline that raced through me, the anger, the anticipation of attempting to take down what I knew would be a formidable foe in Declan.

All that emotion, all of that preparation, it was nothing when I heard that sound.

I turned, looked at her where she stood at the top of the stairs.

“Nya,” I said.

I’d known she was here but in the heat of the moment, I had forgotten. Seeing her now was like dousing a burning flame with ice water.

“Are you about to fight?” she asked.

I stopped, looked back at Declan who still stood tense, ready, though I noticed he hadn’t taken advantage of the opportunity I had given him when I dropped my hands, something that Aengus would never have let pass.

Even thinking of his name, the cheap shots he always used to take when I was a kid, the way those cheap shots had taught me to always keep my guard up rekindled that anger.

Anger that was again doused when Nya walked toward me.

“Let’s go,” Declan said.

Michael and Sean fell into step behind him, none of the three bothering to look back at me.

“You’re okay?” Nya asked when she came to a stop in front of me.

She looked up at me with weary, somewhat worried eyes, and I was instantly humbled. She had been kidnapped, had probably feared for her life, and she was asking after me.

“I’m fine,” I said. A second later I added, “I took care of things.”

She blanched momentarily, though she quickly recovered, but not quickly enough that I hadn’t seen her look, knew that she understood what that meant.

Again I was reminded of the reality of the situation.

“I’ll have Declan take you home,” I said.

“I don’t want Declan to take me home,” she replied.

“Fine, Sean then,” I said.

“Patrick, what’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing’s wrong, Nya. Everything is fucking perfect. I told you I would take care of things, and I filled my promise. Now you’re free to get on with your life,” I said.

I focused on her, tried to tell myself the hurt I saw in her eyes wasn’t real. That if it was, it was something she’d thank me for later.

“And, Nya. Don’t pick up strange men in hotels.”

I watched her face, took in her expression as it shifted from surprise to hurt. I would remember that hurt, hoped it turned to hate, hate so deep that Nya would come to regret ever meeting me even more than she already did.

After I’d looked at her long enough to imprint that hurt on my mind, my heart, I left.