When Keenan reaches me, he yanks me over to him, tugs my head and pulls my face against his shoulder. I’m frozen in fear, cringing in anticipation of sharp pain, when I feel the cold metal of the blade grace my scalp. The gag falls free.
I exhale in relief, stumbling when he releases me, but a firm grip on my elbow steadies me. Keenan holds me in front of the men.
“What have you to say for yourself?” he asks.
I open my mouth to respond but can’t speak. I’m frozen in terror, and I don’t know what I want to say. I swallow hard, and shake my head, but he won’t tolerate that response. He reaches for my hair, wraps it around his hand, and before I know what’s happening, tugs my head back so hard, I scream out loud, my scalp throbbing in pain.
“Answer. Me.”
“I don’t know,” I wail. I’ve never told a lie in my life, but he leaves me no choice. I won’t betray my father, I won’t defile his name or the memory of him to these men, but I can’t give them any information, either.
“You lie,” Keenan says, his eyes narrowing on me. “You’re lying.”
“I don’t know what they are,” I protest, tears of frustration and anger falling down my cheeks. “I don’t know where they came from.”
“Then why did we find you in possession of them?”
“I don’t know, you brute. Let me go!” I wriggle and writhe, trying to get away.
The older man crosses the room in one swift stride, and raises his hand to strike me, when Keenan moves so fast, I stumble to the floor. I hear a smack of flesh-on-flesh, and I look up just in time to see Keenan’s hand on the man’s wrist, the two of them eyeing one another in a silent battle of wills. Keenan’s eyes flash, and the older man looks at him with widened eyes, as if he’s surprised by Keenan’s reaction. The room goes completely still.
“I will interrogate her,” Keenan says with quiet but steely determination. “My way. And privately. You have my word.”
The other man doesn’t speak at first. No one does. It occurs to me this might be the first time Keenan’s ever engaged in a power struggle with his father. They stare for long minutes. I’m holding my breath, watching this silent battle of wills. Finally, the older man nods, and I swear I see his shoulders drop a tiny bit.
“Do it,” he says. “Or I will see it done properly.” But his words have lost a bit of the edge they held before, as if this final promise is his last hold-out.
Keenan’s grip doesn’t loosen, and when he speaks, it’s through clenched teeth. “That won’t be necessary.”
The older man swallows, though his eyes are narrowed and stern. “I’ll trust you, son. I’ll expect answers this evening.”
Keenan finally nods, and it seems both are making a concession. I’m confused yet enthralled at the same time. Keenan finally releases the older man, and immediately turns to me.
He lifts me roughly under the armpits and drags me to my feet.
Keenan turns to the room, and his words take on a note of authority. “No one interrupts me. No one calls me. I want no contact until you hear from me first.”Chapter FiveKeenanNo one defies Seamus McCarthy.
No one raises a hand to Seamus McCarthy.
I just did both, and I fucking won. The realization brings both relief and a sort of weary sadness. My father’s going to eventually concede the throne to me, and I know what happened in the interrogation room was his first concession.
His first ever?
But hell, when I saw him raise his hand to strike the girl, I reacted so quickly I didn’t think before I did. I knew if he struck her, I’d kill him. I’d fucking kill him. And I can’t let that happen.
Still, I leave the room with my head held high. Soon, so soon it feels as if it could be tomorrow, I’ll assume the leadership role in The Clan. And I need the men in rank below me to respect me. Today, I won the battle of wills with my father. One brief moment in time, but it was a defining moment no less.
I love my father. Though stern and immovable, he’s loyal to his very core, always fair, and the bravest man I know. I learned to respect both him and my mam from a very young age, and I was brought up with firm expectations, rules, and consequences. I knew when I fucked up, I’d earn certain and severe punishment. I learned quickly not to fuck up. Still, my father was a fair man and still is.
But no one in The Clan defies Seamus McCarthy.
And I just did.
But now that I’ve taken a stand, there’s no question I need to prove my worth. I can’t falter now. He’s given me a job, and by damn I’m going to do it properly.