Brutal Kiss

“You will be careful what you say about the clan,” he says quietly, jaw working tensely. “If you were anyone else, I’d have you tied up and beaten, but you’re my daughter, Daley. And I love you, despite the way you act.”

“The way I act?” I stare at him in defiance.

“That’s right.” He slams his hands down on the desk and stands. “I’ve given you everything, girl. I’ve gone against all my instincts and let you go to college. I paid for your master’s degree. I stepped back and watched you get a job and act like you’re not a part of this family. And damn it, Daley, I’ve been proud of you. So few men in our world ever go to college and get a degree, much less a woman, and much less go on to get a master’s. You are willful and angry and you break my goddamn heart, but I love you. I’m proud of you, and I will not let you speak that way about your family any longer.”

My mouth hangs open, but there are no words. All these years and my father hasn’t once said anything about being proud of me. He didn’t come to my graduation. He didn’t congratulate me. He didn’t do a damn thing. It was like he wasn’t even aware of my life outside of his little world, aside from the steady flow of money. And now to hear that he’s proud of me? It’s hard to imagine and impossible to fathom, and it tears my heart in half.

I’ve always wanted this. In my core, I’m still Fergal Halloran’s daughter, still the little girl that looked up to him like he was a god and worshipped the ground he walked on. And yet it’s like a rotten flower shoved into my throat.

He comes around from behind the desk. “This clan has given you everything, but all you do is throw it back in my face. I’ve been tolerant and patient, but I will not be patient forever. I am going to make my list, Daley. You are going to look at it. And you will not complain. Because while I love you and am proud of you, I will do what I must.”

He stops beside the chairs a few feet away from me. My father’s old now, but he isn’t frail. I feel tiny around him, and I remember when he was a giant and I was just little. I’d stand on his feet and let him twirl me around in his arms. He was the strongest daddy, and I couldn’t imagine him doing anything wrong. He was incredible, and he was terrifying, and I loved him like only a little daughter could.

Now, though, all I feel is fear.

“Yes, Daddy,” I say quietly, looking at the floor.

“Good. Thank you. I’ll have Aiden deliver the list soon.”

I go to turn and get the hell out of here, but he stops me.

“Daley, remember what I said. You owe the clan everything. You owe it your life. You can’t keep running around denigrating it the way you do. It must stop.”

I nod once, shove the door open, and stagger into the hall. I make it upstairs and into my room before I collapse on my bed and let the sobs escape my chest. I cry hard into my pillow because I know the life I once wanted, the life I imagined I could have if only I kept my head down and worked hard, that life is gone.

It’s gone, replaced by the clan.

Chapter 18

Daley

“You’re quiet today.” Rian doesn’t look at me as he parks the truck and kills the engine. We’re in Uncle Michael’s driveway in front of his modest house about ten minutes from where my father lives in that absurd woodland mansion.

“Just not much to say.”

“I hear there are rumors about what happened at that barn party. Apparently, I killed Oscar?”

I smile a little. “He might’ve deserved it.”

“Everyone’s talking.”

“Even Nolan mentioned it. You don’t have many fans.”

He laughs once. “I never did. I explained the situation to Aiden, and he said he’ll clear it up with leadership.”

That surprises me. Aiden hadn’t said anything about it when he shoved a folded-up piece of paper into my hands this morning before work. He only sneered and walked away.

“That’s good.”

Rian studies me. I feel his gaze and shrink from it. I don’t have the energy to fight him right now, not after a long night of crying myself to sleep and a long day of keeping my head above water at work. I’m afraid he’ll keep pushing and pry the truth from me, but instead he only gets out of the truck and walks to the door.

Uncle Michael ushers us into his kitchen. He’s the biggest of the brothers, with light blue eyes and a loud laugh. He’s wearing slacks and a polo shirt and pours a whisky from a fancy bottle for everyone. “To blood,” he says and we all toast and drink.