Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Viktor

A lthough I've been staring at the photos on my desk for twenty minutes, the images do not change. Even I'm at a loss for words. It doesn't matter what war you are fighting—certain lines shouldn't be crossed. I rub my forehead, trying to erase what I'm looking at.

"You know what this means," Oliver says.

"This is a step too far," Angus adds. I close my eyes, trying to make sense of things.

"Anyone hurt?"

"Luckily, there were only a few people inside. They all made it out. But the damage is substantial."

"Did the cameras get anything?"

"Pull up the surveillance. You can't really see anything in the photos."

I pull up the video. About an hour ago, Oliver called, letting me know someone had attacked Eros. In the video, an SUV with tinted windows drives by and opens fire. A second SUV stops, and four men dressed in black with their faces covered throw several Molotov cocktails. I'm counting my blessings that Eros was closed for a surprise inspection I set up.

"You're looking at an enormous financial loss," Oliver comments.

"I don't give a fuck about the money. I care about the people inside. They have nothing to do with the clan." I bang my hand on the desk. "Cillian just outright made his first move for all to see."

"There's no physical evidence of that," Oliver points out.

"Aye." Angus agrees.

"I don't need physical evidence. Cillian knows what he's doing. He's trying to force my hand to attack and claim I attacked first." I let out a breath. "Who else knows?"

"Besides the cops, I'm not sure. What do you want us to do?"

Eros is not part of the family business, it's one of my ventures. This war is about me, and Cillian couldn't make it clearer. I just can't see what his endgame is. He already has my father's ear.

"Angus, I don't want any man alone. I want everyone in groups of at least three."

"Aye."

"Oliver, go into the reserve. Pay five thousand to each employee at Eros and tell them not to come to work until further notice. I want Eros to become central for my operations until further notice."

"Our father will not approve of that."

"I don't give a fuck what he approves or not. Cillian crossed a line when he attacked innocent people."

"I hope you know what you're doing," Oliver says.

"Are you fucking questioning me?" I snarl, fixing my gaze on him.

"Ceannard, it's a fine line you're going to walk," Angus says. I give him a nod to continue. "Your da will see it as an attack on the clan." and

"We're in this mess because of him."

"Brother, you aren't alone. I swore allegiance to you. We will follow you to the end of hell," Oliver asserts.

"Aye."

"The orders stand. Let the chips fall where they might. I can't worry about my father. I have to take care of my family."

"Aye."

They leave, and I'm left to my thoughts. This shit with the Irish shouldn't have gone this far. My father is giving Cillian free rein whether he sees it or not. Making all these changes is giving Cillian the balls to believe he's unstoppable.

I think of Ava again. What would this war mean for her? What lengths would Cillian go to if she were here? I need her with me, but I wonder if there's some truth to what Oliver once said. She isn't safe around me. At least not until I put an end to Cillian. I'll end this, and then we will be a family.

My father has summoned me to the restaurant. I can think of a few reasons he wants to see me, but they're all for his benefit. Oliver says he'll meet me there, even though I told him not to bother. Pulling up, I see two of my father's capos and a few soldiers. I guess this will not be a friendly meeting.

"Hey." Oliver nods as I join him.

"Hey," I respond, opening the door to the restaurant. Inside there are more Irish than Scots. When did this place become Irish-friendly?

"What do you think he wants?" Oliver asks.

"Who knows? The man is losing his fucking mind. Let's get this over with." Inside, my father is at the head of the table with Cillian's chair next to his. What the fuck is wrong with this man? He truly doesn't care what people will say about it.

"Viktor, took you long enough," my father reprimands me.

"You called me twenty minutes ago. I'm in the middle of something."

"I expect you here immediately upon me calling."

"I'm here. What do you want?"

"Careful," my father says.

"Are you not going to greet your father-in-law?" Cillian says with a sly smirk.

"What do you want, Father?" I ask, ignoring Cillian.

"For you to respect the family name. I believe Cillian is speaking with you."

I look at Cillian and mumble, "Hello." Before turning back to my father. "Now, what do you want?" I repeat.

He pulls his gun and sets it on the table. Everyone freezes. There is rage written all over my father's face, and he looks ready to pull the trigger.

"Are you going to kill me, Father?" I stand my ground. I'll not show him fear.

"Dougal, put that gun away. You remember how it was to be his age," placates Cillian.

My father and I are in a staring match. There's hatred in his eyes, and his gun is now pointed at me. I'll be damned if I cower to him. He's nothing without the gun he's holding, just a man who bleeds red like me.

"Dougal, put the gun down. That's our son," my mother shouts from the kitchen door since men are blocking her. It's a few seconds before my father reacts. "What is going on here?" Mother continues tearfully. She has fear written all over her when I glance in her direction.

"Ask him." I incline my head toward my father, turn around, and walk to the door.

"I have not dismissed you," my father bellows. If he adds anything, I don't hear. I don't look back.

"What now?" Oliver asks once we're outside.

"War. He's made his choice."