6. Cian

I stormout of the room, my knuckles screaming from the impact with the cold, unyielding wall. The door slams behind me with a satisfying crash, echoing the turmoil in my skull. Victoria—fucking Victoria. She doesn’t know shit. None of them know what it’s like growing up under Oisin Gannon’s shadow, having every fucked-up aspect of this life etched into your being until there’s nothing left that doesn’t reek of blood and violence.

I punch the wall again near the front door, not caring about the pain that shoots up my arm. It’s merely a satisfying confirmation that I still feel something, even if it’s just anger.

I should be working on our next move against Kellerman, but all I can think about is Oisin and the goddamn family meeting he’s called. It’s never anything good with him—always another layer to his twisted games that only serve to tighten his grip on our lives.

Victoria’s right; Robert is the golden child. Younger, yes, but not better—just more compliant, a puppet dangling on Oisin’s strings. As for me? I’ve never been good at playing nice or hiding my contempt for the man who calls himself my father.

Dealing with Oisin Gannon, you don’t just play nice. You survive, or you break. And despite everything, I’m not ready to break—not for Oisin, not for anyone.

As I march down the path outside, a slideshow of memories invades my mind. My old man’s icy gaze as he doled out criticism, his voice devoid of any compassion as he demanded perfection from his sons.

I can still taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth from when I’d spoken out of line, earning a swift backhand across the face. A reminder that Oisin Gannon didn’t raise spineless shits. But maybe he did; maybe that’s why I can’t get past this fucking rage that burns whenever I see him or even hear his name.

Victoria doesn’t get it; none of them really do. It’s not just about dealing with Jacob Kellerman or any other small-time pretender. It’s about a legacy carved into your soul before you can even speak, a weight so heavy on your shoulders that sometimes breathing feels like too much effort.

Reaching the end of the path, I bend down to grab the fucking black box still stuffed under the hedge. This needs to be dealt with swiftly and mercilessly. Whoever this fucker is that thinks they can get to my girl by being a lame-ass creep, has another thing coming.

Striding across campus back to the house I share with Luke and Gianluca, I make a mental list of all the ways I can trace this bastard. I might despise my asshole dad, but one thing’s for sure—I’ve learned from the best.

The door to our place swings open before I even reach it. Luke stands there like some brooding Scottish spectre. His expression is grim, and I know he’s already caught wind of the shitstorm brewing. That tells me one thing. He has been watching a live feed of the cams he shoved up at Tory’s place.

Asshole. What is he trying to see exactly?

Apart from the obvious, obviously.

“We’ve got a problem,” I announce, barging past him and tossing the box onto the coffee table of this fairly nice four-bedroom terraced house with more force than necessary. It doesn’t have a scratch on Tory’s place, but then again, I paid for this place, not my dad.

Luke doesn’t even flinch at my temper. He simply closes the door and raises an eyebrow as he joins me. “Another one? Or is this an extension of our current fuck-fest?” His voice is dry, humour lurking beneath the surface like it always does with him. It’s his fucking coping mechanism and usually, I’m all for it. But not today.

I ignore his attempt at lightening the mood. “Same fucking one, but I want answers. Who sent that fucking box?”

Luke gives it a disgusted glance. “Are they still in there?”

Okay, now I allow the humour to ease the ragged beast as I laugh. “I don’t fucking know. Open it and find out.”

He gives me the finger but doesn’t move an inch.

“Coward,” I joke because he is anything but.

Except when it comes to maggots, apparently.

Gianluca emerges from the kitchen then, pitch-black eyes locking on me as he senses the tension in the room. He’s holding a cup of that too-strong Italian coffee that you can smell a mile away but sets it down with careful perfection, ready to snap into action if needed.

“What kind of present?” Gianluca asks, his Italian accent thicker since he’s been speaking to his people.

“Zoom coup abated?” I ask instead, flopping down in an old leather armchair that has seen better days, but I won’t get rid of if you paid me. It’s like an old friend.

He snickers. “Is that what we’re calling it? But yeah, for now. The Rebels have been appeased. There is too much bullshit going on with the neighbouring country, Arachon.”

“Have you tried cutting out the middleman?”

He narrows his eyes. “You mean going to their Queen?”

“I mean going to your counterpart, G. Rue Di’Castello, is it?”

“Hmm, you mean a meeting of minds.”

“Maybe, but not now. I need you to fix this fucking mess with Victoria.”

“What fucking mess?”

“Open the box to find out,” Luke pipes up, hovering, his hands clapped in front of him as he waits for someone, anyone, else to open the box.

Gianluca tilts his head, eyes flicking from me to Luke, then back again. The hint of a challenge brightens those dark eyes. He strides over without hesitation. He’s fucking intrigued.

Gianluca flicks the lid open with a flick of his wrist, and he lets out a noise that sounds like a choked laugh mixed with a strangled gag. “Oh, has Victoria actually seen this?”

“Are they still in there?” Luke asks, hopping manically from one foot to another.

“What? The maggots?” Gianluca snorts. “Yeah.”

“Yes,” I answer G’s question. “It was delivered to her while we were at the Union last night.”

“Okay, eww,” he says and then peers in. “Is that supposed to be her?” He points to the scorched ragdoll.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“So, it’s personal.”

“Yep.”

He lets out a slow exhale. “It’s interesting.”

“How so?”

Gianluca straightens up, his eyes closed for a second as he processes. “It’s not random,” he finally says. “It’s thought-out, a message. It’s got the stink of vendetta all over it.”

I nod, grinding my teeth. “I know.” That’s what’s got me on edge, the thought that it could be someone from inside our circle, someone who’s watched her closely enough to do this.

Luke finally steps forward, expression tight. “We need to tighten security around Victoria,” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice that I don’t usually hear. “Did you bring her dad in?”

“If I had, we wouldn’t have that box, and Victoria would be on her way back to Daddy’s mansion.”

Gianluca looks between us, reading the room with that meditative silence he’s good at. “We need to find out who’s behind this shit, so start with fingerprints.”

He looks at Luke, who shakes his head. “Not until you get rid of those… things.”

I stand up, sudden energy coiling in my muscles like a spring ready to snap. “Old man wants a summit. I’ve gotta go.”

“Oh, fun,” G murmurs, picking up his coffee again and taking a sip.

“Not fun, but necessary. There will be shit to deal with when I get back, so if you could try to get to this before then, that would be awesome.” I stick both my thumbs up.

“Great, you go off gallivanting, and we get… this.” Luke gestures to the box.

“I’d swap you in a heartbeat, mate. Seeing Oisin is definitely going to ruin my day.”

“Yeah,” he says, knowing more than most.

“G, keep eyes on Victoria. She will be heading to lectures soon. I’m not too concerned about her so much as anyone watching her. You with me?”

“Yeah, I got you,” he says.

The tension in the room is a live wire, buzzing and crackling, as I head for the door.

It clicks shut behind me as I step out into the cold morning. The university campus is buzzing with students milling around, ready for lectures, oblivious to the shitstorm beneath the surface of their quaint academic lives.

I shove my hands into my pockets and tilt my face up to catch some weak rays from the English sun. Victoria will be out soon, moving amongst them. She’s a fucking beacon for trouble, and it’s killing me not to be there with her every second.

But duty calls.

I don’t even wait for the text to come through from Dad telling me there’s a meeting. I just get in my car, a beat-up old Jeep that pisses him off, which is why I keep it and head out of town for the two-hour drive back to the Gannon estate.