Chapter 44

Laine

After a fitful night's sleep, Tag wakes thirsty and feverish. I get him a glass of water and some pain pills, then settle in with a facecloth and a little bowl of warm water.

He'll live—that's the important part.

It might take a few weeks to recover enough to take on the aftermath of both the McGuire and Campbell grievances, but he'll get there.

I gently dab at the bruising on Tag's face with the damp cloth. He's more lucid now than he was earlier, but the sight of him so battered stirs a tumultuous mix of emotions within me—anger, fear, and guilt.

"I'm sorry, Tag," I whisper, my voice barely above a murmur. "I never should've asked to stop at the street fair. I didn't think—it never crossed my mind that something like this could happen."

Tag captures my hand, halting its motion. His eyes are nearly completely swollen shut, but he tilts his head to look at me through a slim opening on his right eye. "This isn't on you. We should be able to enjoy a day out without fearing for our lives. What happened…it should never have happened."

The tightness in my chest doesn't ease. The thought that a simple public outing could cause such violence is terrifying. "But why did they attack you? It doesn't make sense. You're one of the most powerful men in Ireland. Are the Campbells big players?"

"No, they're not." Sean steps inside the room, looking furious. "How's the patient this morning?"

"Dandy," Tag grunts.

Sean strides over to the side of the bed and frowns down at his brother. "You look like shit, T."

"Flatterer."

"He'll be up and bossing everyone around before we know it," I say.

Sean dips his chin. "And as to your question about the Campbells attacking, there are more than a dozen lower tier crime families in Ireland. The protocol is for them to recognize the leaders of Dublin, Cork, Galway, and Belfast, and know their place."

"So why attack us? We were already finished walking the fair and getting into the truck to leave. They went out of their way to start a fight."

Sean's scowl deepens. "The Campbells attacking is unprecedented, and it doesn't bode well."

"What does that mean?" I ask.

"One of two things, luv," Tag mumbles. "Either the Campbells have aligned themselves with one of the other major players and consider themselves untouchable, or the Quinn name doesn't carry the weight it used to."

"Either option is a dangerous shift in the balance of power," Sean adds.

My heart sinks. The idea of Tag's influence waning, or worse, a larger conspiracy growing against him and his family, sends a shiver down my spine. "What do we do?"

"You take care of Tag," Sean says, turning toward the door to leave. "We'll handle the aftermath and what it means."

When it's just the two of us again, I resume tending to his wounds. "I think I got the better end of the tasks. I have every intention of taking care of you until we're old and gray."

He smiles and then groans as it pulls at the gash across his cheek. "This could get bloody, luv. The Quinn Laws and our best of intentions will only go so far. I'm sorry."

I hate the idea that Dublin and even the surrounding countryside might fall prey to violence, but between the Quinns and the McGuires running Dublin, there's no question who needs to be in power.

As I look down at him, something in me hardens—a resolve born of love and the fierce desire to protect this man who has become my world.

As the sun rises on a new day beyond the windows of our suite, I know, with unwavering certainty, that whatever comes at us—the Campbells, the McGuires, the Tessianos, or any threat big or small—they'll find us united by love and with a shared determination to protect our own.

"I'm team Quinn all the way. Whatever storms you face, I'll be there to weather them with you. Yours forever, remember?"

Tag brushes his thumb over my ring and nods. "Aye, yours forever."