28. Cian

I paceVictoria’s living room, the weight of leadership like a shadow I can’t shake. The walls here are too clean, too sterile. They need a history smeared in blood and secrets, like the ones back home.

“Change of plans,” I spit into the phone, my voice cutting through silence like a knife’s edge. “Come to Victoria Stroud’s townhouse,” I tell one, and he will spread the word. The five who sit at the top with me know better than to ask why. Loyalty isn’t a question; it’s an expectation, as natural as breathing, as certain as death.

I end the call, shoving the phone in my pocket. The townhouse feels smaller suddenly, the air tight around me. I’m setting a stage for war, right here in this posh little cage. My father is dead, and I’ve got no time for grief, not that I would, only the cold embrace of revenge. It’s not just about power – it’s about keeping the throne from crumbling beneath us.

I hear the rumble of engines, the low growl of cars pulling up outside, driving around from my place. These men, they’re the sinew and bone of the Gannon family. Without them, we’re just a name, a memory.

As each one steps into the room, I assess them silently. Not with the eyes of a brother, but a king on a bloodied throne. Each face that greets me is a card in the deck I’m about to shuffle. I don’t need words to command respect; it’s in the steel of my gaze, the set of my shoulders. We’re all pieces in a game much bigger than us, and I’m the one moving them across the board.

Robert is the first to sit. He’s not a kid anymore; he’s built like a brawler and twice as fierce. His eyes are ice, his lips a tight line. He gives me a nod, that’s all. We’re business today, nothing else.

Behind him, Seamus shuffles in, stocky and scarred, a bear of a man with knuckles like bolts. Always violent, always the one to break the silence with a grunt or a jab. He’s got loyalty to my dad etched into every line on his face, but we’ll see where he stands with me now. Finn, the charmer, the diplomat, slides into a chair. There’s a razor edge to his smile, a silver tongue that cuts deals and throats with equal finesse. His laughter fills the room, but it’s hollow. In this game, you laugh, or you die. Brendan, the old guard, a mountain of a man with a gaze that bores holes through steel. He’s been through the wars, the upheavals, and seen bosses rise and fall. His word is law, his faith unshakable. Then there’s the one I’ve got my eye on. Sinclair. Cold, calculating, fierce. He’s been with Dad since they learned how to walk. Loyalty above all else for him.

“We’re here because we’re under siege. The throne’s shaken, not shattered. We hold it together, fortify the ranks. We strike back hard. We take what’s ours. We show them the Gannons never kneel.”

The air hangs heavy, thick with the promise of blood and vengeance. This isn’t a gathering of friends. It’s a war council. And I’m the general calling the shots.

I pace like a caged beast, the scent of betrayal and blood still fresh on my mind. “His death is not a wound we lick. It’s a call to arms.” I meet their stares, unflinching. “We burn their world to ashes.”

Brendan nods, a grunt escaping him. Sinclair leans forward, the light catching the edge in his eye, sharp enough to draw blood. Finn’s hand moves to his jacket, a subconscious itch for the blade he keeps close.

“BlackBriar stays mine,” I declare. Their gazes harden; they know what it costs. “I hold the line here. I’m not leaving, and Robert isn’t leaving Castle. Earlier, he was named my second-in-command, and he will stay that way.”

“Understood,” Sinclair says, his voice a blade sliding from its sheath. The others nod, a silent accord sealed in shadow.

“This means I need a Captain,” I say. The title hangs in the air, a crown for the taking. Eyes lock on mine, hungry. I lean forward, each breath a deliberate choice. “Skills, loyalty, and control. Someone who has all of this and can be on the outside, day-to-day. Not a leader, a go-to.”

Their gazes never waver, each ready to bleed for the cause. But this isn’t about bleeding; it’s about who makes others bleed for us.

The tension coils, a snake ready to strike. I take my time, let them feel the weight of my gaze, the gravity of their fates in my hands. My eyes slide from one to another, decisions forming and falling away.

“Who can wield power without being consumed by it?” I ask. “Who will stand with me in the dark and still see the way forward?”

Time slows down, the room holds its breath.

“Sinclair.”

The name slices through the charged silence, a blade thrust into the heart of indecision. I lock eyes with him across the room, cold and steady. There’s no tremor in my voice, no fucking hesitation. This is the law of the Gannon empire.

Sinclair’s face hardens, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he nods once, sharply. His eyes are dark, deep, dangerous. He stands, shoulders set like he’s shouldering the weight of the world, which in a way, he is.

Around us, breaths release, some tinged with relief, others with thinly veiled disappointment.

“Thank you, Cian,” Sinclair says, voice rough like gravel. “I won’t let you down.”

“Letting me down isn’t an option,” I reply, my tone clipped. “You know what’s at stake.”

His nod is all business, and I can see the shift in him already, stepping into the role like it’s a second skin. The others watch him, some calculating whether this new hierarchy might work to their advantage.

“Keep your eyes sharp,” I tell him, my voice low. “Your power is borrowed. Remember that.”

“Always,” he responds, the edge in his voice promising violence and loyalty.

“Seamus, you’re the enforcer. You know the job, it’s yours. The rest of you are the inner circle. High-ranking, that hasn’t changed. Nothing changes except the face you see at the top. Got it?”

“Got it,” they murmur and that’s really all there is to say.

I dismiss them and they leave, but Robert hangs back.

“Short but sweet. With Dad, we’d still have been here tomorrow.”

I snort. “I don’t like talking.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

The door falls shut with a finality that echoes through the bones of Victoria’s townhouse.

“Time to rebuild,” I murmur.

I stalk to the window, gaze piercing through the glass to the street outside. In the distance, BlackBriar University stands tall, its spires reaching towards the dark sky. This is where I hold power, waiting for my opportunity to enforce it.

“This begins,” I throw over my shoulder to Robert, my voice a low promise to the world itself. “This empire will rise from the ashes, stronger and more ruthless than ever before. And I will be its king.”