26. Victoria

Things aretentative with Cian and me as we drive around to my place. But all that changes when he pulls into the driveway, and we both see the new black box on my doormat at the same time.

“Do not move,” he orders.

“You’re not opening that without me,” I mutter, following him as he gets out.

“Tory,”

“No. This is a me problem. I’m fully involved in this, or I will take this off your plate and sort it out myself.”

I can see it takes every drop of inner strength he has to give into my demand. I’m testing him a lot lately, and that has to stop, but right now, a Catherine Wheel of shit has been let loose, and we have to keep dodging it or get hit in the face.

“This isn’t right,” Cian mutters as we stare at it. “He already delivered one today.”

“So, it’s a rapid escalation,” I murmur, actually now, at this point, dreading what is going to be in there. The previous ones were a pathetic attempt to scare me, so I have a feeling my stalker has levelled up. As we near it, the stench of blood hits our noses, and we exchange a wary glare.

Cian crouches down, and I hover over him, bending to get a closer look.

He pulls out his knife and flips the lid back with the tip.

Bile rises in my throat at the sight.

“Is that a?—?”

“Yep,” Cian mutters and slams the lid back down.

“Fuck. Fuck. Who do you think it belongs to?”

He gives me a scathing glare as he rises and looks over my shoulder. Another car pulls up, along with a sexy bike, to announce Luke and Gianluca’s arrival.

“Another one?” Luke demands, striding over to glare down at it.

“Don’t open it,” Cian murmurs, his eyes on me.

“Why? Maggots?”

“Worse, this time.”

“What could be worse than maggots?” he grumbles.

“A cut-out human heart,” I blurt out before Luke’s expression darkens, and his lips press into a thin line.

“Fuck me,” he breathes out.

Cian’s face tightens, and I can see the muscles in his jaw clench as he looks from me to the box and back again. “This has gone too fucking far. Who the fuck is it, Tory? Is it that bastard?”

“No,” I say, knowing he means the man from my past. “No, it wouldn’t be. It’s been years and let’s just say, I’m no longer his type.”

The shock registering in his eyes freezes me. “Come again?”

“You fucking heard me,” I mutter, staring at the box and not him.

He grabs my arm, shaking me gently. “Give me a fucking name.”

I shake my head. “Forget that. It’s not him.”

Gianluca joins us, his dark eyes surveying the scene before landing on the box. Without a word, he squats beside it, his blade appearing in his hand. “Whoever did this,” he says, voice low and dangerous, “is going to regret it.”

They all look at me, their gazes like weighty chains – protective, possessive and seething with unspoken fury. I know they’re ready to wage war for me; I can feel it buzzing in the air like electricity before a storm.

“Listen up,” I tell them, my voice steady even though something cold and heavy has settled in my stomach. “Whoever is sending these messages wants to rattle me – make me paranoid and separate me from the guys. Force me into hiding. We won’t let that happen. Is there a note?”

“I didn’t look,” Cian mutters, looking a bit sickened.

Gianluca mans up to my amusement and opens the box before he scrunches up his face at the stench. “Whoever this is, I say when we find them, we repay the fucking favour.”

“Oh, way ahead of you,” Cian growls. “Note?”

“Here,” Gianluca says, edging the heart over a skosh to reach in.

This time it’s a black envelope.

“Open it,” I murmur.

Gianluca’s fingers tear through the black paper with a certain reverence for the severity of this situation. His hands are steady despite the grim task. The note comes out, and it’s a single, blood-soaked card. He unfolds it and reads aloud, “‘Tick-tock, Bryony. Every heart beats its last.’”

A twisted knot coils tighter in my gut. Fear is clawing its way up my throat, but I press it down. Can’t show weakness now, not in front of these men who are ready to spill blood for me.

“Bryony?” Cian snatches the note from Gianluca’s hand and glances over it, his eyes darkening with each word. He looks like he’d murder the world right now if it would solve this problem. “Who the fuck is Bryony?”

I raise my hand slightly. “Me. It’s my middle name.”

“What?” Cian looks at me with interest. “You’ve never said.”

“What? You didn’t do a background check on me?” I snort.

He snickers. “Actually, no. Figured I’d be surprised.”

“Back to this,” Luke waves his hand at the box. “Whoever did this knows you.”

“Or is just a douche canoe trying to rattle me by using my lesser-known middle name.”

“Whichever way, we’re done playing fucking defence,” Cian snarls, crumpling the card in his fist.

Luke steps closer, a cold shadow looming over us all. “Let’s bring this prick to his knees. We need to get our plan in motion,” Luke continues, pulling out his phone and tapping into it. “This ends.”

Gianluca nods in agreement, standing like a dark avenger ready for battle. He glances at me, his protective instincts clear as daylight. “Let’s get inside instead of chatting out here like sitting ducks, no?”

I nod in agreement and hand him the key to open the door. We step over the box and leave it for Luke to gather up once he is kitted out in protective gear. I can fight my own battles; I always have. But looking at the faces of these men—strong, determined, unyielding—I understand this isn’t just about me anymore. It’s about what we are together: an unorthodox family forged in darkness and bound by loyalty.