17. Declan

DECLAN

Bree has beenin a weird mood ever since I sent that note to her father. She seems nervous, in a way, and I wonder if her and her father have a more strained relationship than I'd thought.

Usually, I'd be suspicious about her sending a message, but it read just like a normal family birthday card.

Nevertheless, Finn knew to make a copy before he left and I plan to read over Niall's reply word for word, to be sure that he's not sending her some kind of plan. I know that a lot of our kind speaks in code, but she'd only mentioned her brother and her dog.

Having my own experience with Slick, I can understand missing your childhood pet. I miss Slick every single day. He was a big American Pitbull, and he had a vicious bark, but he'd never bite a soul unless I ordered him to. He was good with Paige when she was a baby, rolling around on the floor with her.

The day that he'd gotten ahold of that poison bait had been one of the worst days of my life. The day after, when I found out who did it—one of my father's rival's sons—had been the bloodiest.

There's a reason they call me the Irish scourge.

When Finn brings me the reply, just before dinner, it's just a single sheet of paper. I read over it, and it's simple and doesn't seem to contain any plans. I'm still suspicious of Niall, but I honestly can't see any kind of code emerging. I make a copy and leave the office.

I walk into the bedroom. "Your father replied."

Bree jumps at the sound of my voice and freezes where she's been brushing her long, auburn hair.

"Did he?"

I hand her the letter, and she reads it out loud.

"Wean,

I am so glad to hear from you. Just having dinner tomorrow to celebrate my birthday. Thank you so much for your sweet birthday wishes. I miss you so badly.

Molly misses you most of all, though! She howls and barks twice a day, around the same times you used to walk her.

And don't you worry your pretty head about my back. I'm as strong as an ox and twice as mean.

All my love,

Daidí."

Bree's hands are trembling slightly when she clutches the letter to her chest.

"Thank you, Declan," she says in an almost whisper. "This means a lot to me."

Her hazel eyes are wet and full of some emotion I can't quite name when she looks up at me.

I give her a soft smile, running my hand over her hair before taking the brush from her, and start brushing it. She's looking at me in the mirror, almost as if studying me.

"Do I have something on my shirt?" I look down with a frown.

"No," she blurts, looking away and flushing. "It's just that you look handsome today."

I grin. "Thank you, princess. You always look beautiful, too."

I lean down to kiss the crown of her head, and there's a little pep in my step as I walk downstairs for dinner.

Bree follows shortly, wearing a green shift dress that shows off her hazel eyes. She sits next to me, giving me a small smile.

We're the only ones at the table.

"I guess everyone else is late for dinner," I comment, and Bree nods, seeming almost shy.

What's going on with her? Maybe she's just overwhelmed by finally getting to communicate with her family.

My father and Gray come down next, chatting in hushed tones about something, and I frown as Paige and Lara trail in, as well.

"What's going on?" I ask in a low voice when my father sits at the head of the table, next to me.

"After dinner," my father barks, and I want to roll my eyes, but I know better.

My father hates talking about business at the table or talking about anything remotely negative. Dinner time is family time, and he's always enforced that.

"Fine," I mutter, and take Bree's hand under the table.

She squeezes it, and my heart skips in my chest.

I've really got to deal with these growing feelings for her, but if I'm honest with myself, I don't know how to. Every part of me wants her, all the time, wants her happy and safe and....

Loved.

I've been loath to even think about those three little words, but it's getting more and more serious, and it's not like I can talk to Gray or our father about it. Hell, even if I talked to Paige and Lara, they'd just blab to Bree. I certainly don't want her to know that I have feelings for her.

What if she doesn't feel the same way?

I look over at her, but she's focused on Paige, chatting idly about this house she fell in love with. A brownstone house with four rooms and a gym in the basement.

"Maybe now I can have that chihuahua I always wanted." She is bouncing on her seat.

I squeeze Bree's hand. "Did you know Bree has a dog?"

Bree freezes, stiffening up, and I pat her thigh.

"Molly," she says quietly. "She's my old lady."

"How old?" Gray asks. "Lara had a cat once that I swear was almost as old as she was when it died."

Lara laughs. "Poor thing. He ended up getting hit by a car, too. Didn't even die of natural causes."

"And he'd lost all his hair. He looked like one of those weird Sphynx cats." Paige giggles.

"Hey, leave Jack alone," my father interjects. "He was a good cat."

"Da used to hate cats," Paige explains, and just like that, Bree seems to have been brought out of her strange mood.

It makes sense that she just misses her family, so I have to cut her some slack.

"Yeah, he told me if I brought home another stray cat, he'd make me sleep in the basement with it," Lara says with a laugh.

"And he did, too." Gray chuckles.

I laugh along with them, and Bree's smiling. It makes me happy.

"Molly's almost seventeen," Bree tells us. "But I'd rather hear the story about Jack."

"Jack be Nimble, we called him," my father says, sounding sentimental. "He used to scratch all over the furniture, but he would also bring me my slippers."

"A cat?" Bree's mouth hangs open before she shakes her head. "There's no way a cat brought your slippers."

Lara brings out her phone, showing Bree a series of pictures of Jack carrying my father's slippers, up until he was old and hairless.

"That's so crazy," Bree mutters. "I didn't even know cats could do tricks."

"Oh, he expected a piece of steak after each time," my father says, chuckling. "And then he started bringing them to me at all times of day, not just after dinner, just to get that treat."

"I miss him," Paige whines. "I don't know why you wouldn't let me get a chihuahua. Maybe when I move, I can get one."

"He'd be a little ankle-biter," my father says. "No more pets in the house. Feel free in yours, but don't bring him here."

"But we have such a big yard here!" Paige complains.

Gray frowns. "If you bring your dog here, I'm getting my own dog."

My father throws up his hands, but he's still smiling. "It's like I've still got a bunch of kids in the house."

After we sober a bit and dessert is on the table, my father clears his throat, clinking his fork against his glass to get our attention.

"I need a family meeting after dinner," he says. "We have some business to discuss."

Bree starts to stand up and excuse herself, but I take her hand.

"You're part of this family now, too," I whisper, and she sits back down.

"Should we just talk over dessert?" Gray asks.

Da sighs. "You know I hate business at the dinner table, but fine, just for tonight."

Bree sits quietly while Gray starts to talk.

"I know this subject might be a little sensitive given our company," Gray starts, giving Bree a side look. "But Niall Murphy has intercepted yet another of our shipments."

Lara groans. "Isn't this the third one this month?"

Gray nods. "Exactly. So, I think, personally, that it"s time to take him down."

I can't help looking over at Bree, and her hazel eyes are wide and wet.

"May I be excused?" Her voice breaks, but my father shakes his head.

"No, Bree. You need to hear this."

She stands up, knocking her chair over as she does so.

Fuck. I wish that my father and Gray had waited to bring this up.

Bree is still fragile from getting the letter from her father, from missing his birthday. But it's too late now.

"Why are you even doing this? Why did you all kidnap me to mess with my father? What is the big deal? You're just rivals? So what? My father has half a dozen rivals in this city."

"I wish it were that we were just rivals," my father murmurs. "Sit down, a'stor. Listen to the story, and you'll see that there's more than meets the eye."

"What does that even mean?"

I look over at Bree.

Could she be innocent? She lives with the man. There is no way she doesn't know, is there?

Deep down I could avoid falling for her because I could see her as a bit of a monster. Not as much as her father, of course, but still.

But what if I'm wrong?

Because if she doesn't know, she's innocent, and in her eyes, we're the monsters.

"Please stay," I tell her, but she storms out of the room.

I stand up quickly and follow her, catching her at the base of the stairs and grabbing her by her elbow.

"Don't touch me," she hisses, and tears roll down her cheeks, each slicing a piece of my heart. "I can't sit here and listen to your plans to kill my father."

"You don't understand," I say fiercely. "You don't understand what he's done."

"What could he possibly have done? What could he have done that is so bad that makes you want to take him away from me?"

I look down at her wet cheeks, the way her mouth is parted and turned down at the corners. I just want to take her into my arms and comfort her. But I can't. She has to know the truth.

She told me that her mother left, and taking away her father too does seem cruel—or it would, if he hadn't done the things he did.

Bree needs to know what kind of man her father is.

"Go and get yourself together." I tilt my chin up the stairs. "Then meet us downstairs, in the living room. We'll be waiting."

Her bottom lip trembles as she glares up at me. "You can't make me listen to this."

"I can. I can and I will, because you need to know, so just listen to me, Bree, okay?" There's just a note of a pleading edge to my voice.

She will listen to the truth, one way or another. But I really don't want to have to tie her to the recliner.

Bree swallows hard and stalks up the stairs.

I sigh, going back into the dining room.

My father looks at me expectantly.

"She's coming downstairs in a few minutes. I told her we'd meet her in the living room." I pause, looking him right in the eyes. "I want you to tell her everything."

"Everything? Even—" Gray starts, but my father holds up a hand to stop him.

"All right, son. I'll tell her everything. If you're sure."

"I'm sure. She needs to understand."

Gray frowns, and Paige's eyes are filled with tears. Lara shoulders slump.

I think everyone, even Gray, hates that we have to tell her this.

Lara puts an arm around our baby sister, and Paige sobs into her shoulder before pulling away.

"Don't break down, a'stor," my father warns. "This isn't our burden. It's hers."

"It"s ours, too," Lara interjects. "But we'll try to keep it together."

My father nods.

"I'll make sure she's there," I grumble, and walk upstairs, waiting outside the bedroom door.

Strange, gagging noises reach me. Is she throwing up?

My heart drops.

I hate this for her. I really do. If I was told my father did the things Niall Murphy did... well, I'd be devastated.

The door swings open, and Bree stands there, her makeup washed off, her eyes red and puffy.

"I'm ready," she rasps, and I put my hand on the small of her back and lead her down the stairs.

I guess I really must care for her, because I wish I could shoulder all her pain, make it so she never finds out about this, about what a monster her father really is.

I wish I could take her pain and make it mine, and what is that if it isn't love?