“No,” Daley chokes out. “Dad, no. Shane wouldn’t.”
Fergal takes a piece of paper from a nearby notepad and writes down an address. He rips it off and slides it over to me. “This is where you can find him. Memorize it, then burn it. If you go visit him, you can’t ever speak of this, not to anyone.”
“He’s still alive,” Daley says, walking forward. She grips the back of her chair and shakes it. “Goddamn it, Dad, my brother’s still alive and you never told me and now you’re saying he might’ve killed Megan.”
“If you want the truth, he can tell you.” Fergal shakes his head. “I know you don’t believe this, Daley, but I’ve done all I can to protect my children. Losing Aiden is like losing a part of me, and I mourn him every second of every day. I did what I could to keep Shane safe, and part of that was pretending he had truly died. I’m sorry, Daley. I really am.”
The room descends into silence. I slowly push myself to my feet. Daley’s breathing hard, blinking back tears. The poor girl’s been fighting tears for weeks now. Her cheeks are pink, and she’s so angry her hands are trembling.
I can’t imagine what she’s going through. In the space of ten minutes, she found out that her oldest brother is still alive, but that he might have killed her best friend. The whiplash must be devastating, and I want to get her away before she says or does something she’ll regret.
But it’s too late for that. “This is your fault,” she says quietly, staring at her father. “What happened to me is your fault. Aiden’s dead because of you. Shane’s exiled and Megan’s dead because of your choices. This is all you, Dad.”
“Daley,” Fergal says, warning her. “Careful. I saved you. I risked a lot and sacrificed lives to do it.”
“But I was only in there because of you.” I try to take her arm but she shakes me off. I let her go, because maybe she needs this, and maybe Fergal needs to hear it. “Shane had to go through hell and pretend to die and leave his family all because of you and this sick culture. You perpetuate it, all the violence, the pathetic fighting, the drugs and crime. It’s all about power and money, and you pretend like the family part matters, but it never did.”
“You don’t know a damn thing,” Fergal says, standing, seething now. “You have no idea how much I’ve lost and how much I’ve gambled to keep you all safe.”
“Except for Aiden. You threw him into the fire, and you were happy to marry me off if it meant helping your precious clan.”
“He wasn’t supposed to die,” Fergal roars. “You were supposed to be safe.”
“We weren’t, Dad. We never were. And that’s on you.” Daley tears herself away. I gently wrap an arm around her and steer her to the door as she silently shakes against me. We reach the exit and she stops, looking back. “Megan’s on you. Aiden’s on you. So many others are on you.”
She leaves then, and I kick the door shut behind us.
I take her to a quiet corner of the house before she finally breaks down. I hold her, hating this place so much. This house is another emblem of the hell she’s been through, another reminder that her father is a monster and her brothers are sacrificial pawns in the game that keeps the power flowing. Without this house, without the money that props it up, dozens of men and women would still be with us.
“We have to go to him,” Daley says, looking into my eyes. She wipes her face, shaking her head. “We have to ask him.”
“Are you sure?” I kiss her softly, drinking her tears away. “If we go, you might not like what he says.”
“We have to. I’m tired of living this lie. I’d rather let the truth break me than keep going on like this.”
I take her hand and squeeze it.
Chapter 32
Daley
It takes us over an hour to reach the address Dad gave to Rian. I can tell he’s struggling, but he doesn’t complain when I park the truck outside of a perfectly boring, perfectly nice suburban house in a neighborhood packed with boring, nice houses.
I kill the engine and stare. Dark shutters, dark door. A big tree up front. A dark driveway with a car off to the right. The garage doors are shut and a basketball lies next to a hoop.
“My brother lives here.” I say the words like they belong to someone else. I can’t imagine Shane still living and breathing. I haven’t seen him in so long now, and I have trouble recalling his face with clarity.
“He’s a different person now,” Rian says quietly, reaching out to take my hand. It’s comforting, the way he touches me almost without realizing he’s doing it, like he’s orbiting around me. Protective and careful.