Page 32 of Vengeful Devotion
“You should leave,” I croak.
Warren looks at me. His green eyes unreadable, as they always have been to me. The only thing I can see is that he’s sober. For the moment, anyway. It won’t be long until he’s in some back alley jamming a needle in his vein.
“Mother invited me.”
“I don’t give a fuck who invited you, Warren. Leave.”
My mother grabs hold of my arm. “Don’t you dare fuck this night up for me, Declan. I swear to heavens I will beat the ever living shit out of you.”
“What is he doing here, mother?”
“I wanted to celebrate this night with all five of my children. Like a normal family would. I wanted you all here with me.”
My inner demon rattles the bars of his cage. I want to scream at her. The words burning in my throat. She has no idea the monster she raised.
How could she know when you haven’t told her?
I pull my arm free, grabbing my glass. “I’ll be at the bar.”
“Declan…” my mother protests, but I’m already walking away.
Warren stares me down as I walk past him, hitting his shoulder on my way. I want him to know that hatred is all I feel for him. He should know that he is not forgiven. He never will be.
Handing my glass to the bartender, I lean against the bar. I keep my eye on Warren. If he’s here, this night is only just beginning. The impending sensation of doom returns. It’s angrier, more certain that tonight is going to be messy.
I wonder if Warren is the one who set my warehouse on fire. He was always the pyro in the family. And he has motive. Being kicked out of the family and losing your fortune has a way of making a man murderous.
“Bad day?” Cormac interrupts my thoughts.
I straighten, masking my face with indifference. “I’ve had better.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
I grab my glass, sipping it. Cormac keeps glancing towards me, like a nervous tick.
“Can I help you?”
“Are your sisters single?”
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“Sorry. I don’t know why it came out like that. I’m just trying to see if there’s a match for an alliance.”
“An alliance?”
“Yes. Aligning my family with yours could be beneficial for us both.”
What the hell? Everyone knows I don’t allow that. Something tells me Cormac is fishing for something. But what? I step into his personal space. “O’Brien, you should know two things about me. One, I will murder anyone who touches my family. Two, I will never trade my sisters off like livestock. That tradition died with my grandfather, and I intend to keep it that way.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cormac scampers off, like a little mouse. I can’t believe he had the audacity to ask me that. Every family knows the rules. My father put an end to the tradition of arranged marriages. He hated seeing his sisters used to solidify a man’s place in the world. He never wanted that for his daughters. He wanted them to have their own lives. To be allowed to exist for reasons beyond getting married and having children. Sure, everyone justifies it by calling ittradition. But just because its tradition doesn’t make it right.
My eyes find Gemma again, and what I see makes my blood boil. I clench my fists, trying to rein in the primal rage running through my veins. But it’s no use. I finish my drink, slamming it down on the counter. Shards of glass go everywhere, but I’m too angry to care. My only purpose right now is to murder the man whose hand sits on Gemma’s shoulder. I was right. Tonight will be messy.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Gemma
