Chapter 3

CHAPTER

THREE

Killian

The snowfall had eased by the time I drove back into Boston around 5 a.m. I'd sent a text to Noah's father with the simple words: it's done . But that wouldn't suffice. Not when it came to killing his only child.

I pulled up outside the huge brownstone and rung the bell. The housekeeper let me in. The house was classy-old, made of deep colors, high ceilings, and too many stairs. I found Val King in the breakfast room, sitting in his dressing gown by the window, reading a newspaper with a steaming black coffee in front of him, like his father had done in this house every morning, and his father before him. The Kings went as deep in Back Bay as the reclaimed land all these grand houses were built on.

Valentine King was in his late sixties. He'd had Noah in his later years, probably realizing he needed an heir. What he'd gotten instead was in impetuous wildcard who everyone had told him would settle down eventually, but never did.

And was now—if I were to be believed—dead.

Val folded his paper, tossed it onto the table, and lifted his gaze. "Well?"

Noah had his father's penetrating blue eyes, but the rest of Noah's slim grace likely came from his mother's side. Noah was quick and agile, whereas his father was stocky and solid. Val didn't need to be agile. Predators didn't run. They beat any threat into the ground.

"He did well," I found myself saying, remembering how fierce Noah had been in those not-so-final moments. "He faced death with honor."

"At least he died right." His father sniffed, but that was all. No regret, no moment of reflection.

An unexpected twinge of irritation tightened my chest. As far as he knew, his son was dead in the dirt, and he couldn't say anything more than he died right.

He picked up his coffee. "Terrible business. My own son, a betrayer. The rot must always be cut out, Killian, no matter the cost."

Noah had said he hadn't betrayed the family, but he would have said anything to escape. I knew Noah, and this kind of mess was right out of his playbook. Fucking a Southie girl, spilling secrets. But the way he'd said he hadn't betrayed his father… "Betraying the family is the one thing I have never done." I'd never heard him speak of anything with conviction before. Noah had cared, when facing death. That, I knew to be true.

While his father didn't care about him at all.

"You can go, Killian."

I turned to leave.

"And… make sure it's cleaned up. No trace. Understand?"

"All part of the job." I left the house, jogged down the steps, and climbed into the car, thoughts turning to Noah tied up and waiting in the cabin.

I'd lit the cabin's fire before leaving, but it would be fading down now, and with the weather as it was, Noah wouldn't last long in the cold.

A few hours' drive, and then he and I were going to have a sincere chat about the future. If he had one.