9. Gianluca

“Fuck,”I mutter, rubbing at my jawline, staring at the phone in my hand as I keep half an eye on Victoria.

But when Cian calls, I answer—because that’s how this twisted world works. We’re bound by blood, loyalty, and an unspoken understanding that when one of us is in the shit, we help shovel it out.

I text back a single word: Understood.

No need for more; we’re men of action, not words.

Grabbing my leather jacket off the bench I’d slung it on near the cafe, I put it on as I head off campus. My bike waits for me like a dark steed poised for battle; I swing my leg over it and shove my helmet on.

The purr of the engine is a soothing counterpoint to the chaos that’s no doubt unfolding wherever Cian is. He didn’t say what went down, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that something big must have happened for him to want me at his dad’s house. It’s fucking two hours away, but nothing will stop me from going when he calls. No hesitation. No second-guessing.

I gun the engine, feeling the powerful machine roar beneath me, as I speed out of the university town. The landscape blurs past me, but my thoughts are hyper-focused as I need to be prepared for any scenario.

With years of experience riding, I effortlessly lean into the turns while pushing the bike to its limits. The wind whips at me, but it’s nothing compared to the storm I feel I’m about to ride into.

Flashes of Victoria’s wicked eyes seer to my memory, and it’s something I can’t shake off. She is captivating. She is also off-limits. But her flirting has riled up the simmering heat I have for her. That woman is a firecracker, but she is also probably the only woman I might be able to be myself around. She doesn’t care about my title. Women flock to my side in the hopes that they will sweep me off my feet, but it’s fake. A dream for them to become a Princess. It has made me wary and very picky about who I stick my dick into. God knows I’d have not-so-accidental heirs running around all over the place if some of these women had their way. Holes in condoms and fake birth control pills are the least of it. It makes it lonely, but I’m not an idiot. I won’t settle for anything less than my princess, and every ounce of my essence is telling me it’s Victoria Stroud. I want to braid her hair, one on either side, so I can wrap my fists around them while I fuck her mouth, holding her in place. Then I want to come in her mouth and have her swallow every last drop, claiming her from the inside out before she gets me hard again so I can ride her pussy until she screams my name. I don’t have this outside of my fantasies. An ass fuck here and there with a condom that has to be immediately disposed of.

It is in a word… shit.

I want the fire and passion that Cian and Victoria have. I don’t even care if she has us both. Maybe that’s even better. Cian gets to keep her while I get to have her as well. But I value my life too much to suggest it. He will gut anyone who comes near her. I let out a soft sigh and play with her in my fantasies as that is all I will get.

As I near the estate, my grip tightens on the handlebars. Unease settles around me, and it’s not a feeling I like. Something isn’t right.

When I finally pull up to the gates of the estate, they’re flung open before I even slow down.

Pulling up next to Cian’s Jeep, I kill the engine and swing off my bike, pulling off my helmet, wondering what the fuck I’m walking into. What was so important to call me away from Victoria?

Striding into the house, I raise an eyebrow at the carnage. “Okay,” I murmur. “Cian?”

“Back here.” His voice filters down the hallway, and I follow it.

I find him in a study with a large blood pool soaked into the Aubusson rug. Narrowing my eyes, I flick my gaze to him, sitting behind a big mahogany desk, looking like something smacked him in the face, and he’s not quite sure what to do about it yet.

“What happened?”

“An execution.”

Blinking once, I lick my lips. “Of whom?”

“Oisin Gannon.”

My blood runs cooler. “Your dad?”

“You know of another?”

“Well, there’s enough of you, Gannon fuckers; I’m sure there is another one or two out there.” I joke to lighten the mood because I know, not as much as Luke, but I know how he felt about his dad, and it works on him.

He snickers, full of humour. “Well, you’ve got me there.”

His laughter dies quickly, though. I watch the weight of his new role settle on him like a dark cloak. As he stands, his movements are precise, contained, and stone-cold. Not that he was a joyous puppy before, but now, I can see the difference.

I wonder what Victoria will make of this? Has he even told her yet?

My hand instinctively moves to adjust the knife I always carry strapped on my belt. In our line of work, trust in steel over lead—it’s silent and doesn’t jam.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I give him a once-over to make sure he’s steady. Cian and booze are a bit of an issue, not that I blame him for wanting to forget his ghosts. “You’re head of the family now.”

“Yeah.” He nods once, sharply.

“And what’s next?” I ask, keeping my tone even.

Cian’s eyes meet mine, dark with something feral. “Revenge. Retribution. We find out who did this and then we burn their entire fucking world to ash.”

I feel a grim smile tug at my lips. Sometimes, there’s satisfaction in being part of this life; it’s twisted but clear-cut—betrayal and loyalty so starkly defined you can taste them.

“I’m with you,” I say simply, because what else is there? This isn’t just about Cian’s loss – it’s a threat to our entire existence. We’re part of something bigger than ourselves. This is about survival. Whoever was dumb enough to take out Oisin Gannon in his own fucking home has balls bigger than I’ve ever seen. It’s a statement. A fucking stupid one, but a statement, nonetheless.

He nods at me, grateful and ready for war.

“Any ideas?”

“Kellerman. It has to be. That’s what this summit was about?”

I nod slowly. “The first-year? You think his family is behind this?”

“It’s a start. If not, we move on, taking out every last motherfucker on the planet until I find the asshole who made me head of this family at twenty-fucking-one.”

Yeah. I figured that was his issue as opposed to losing his dad. “Have you told Robert?”

He gives me a scathing glare. “Obviously. He is upstairs crying.”

Ouch. Brotherly bonding is not on the table, then.

“Have you called Luke?”

Cian hesitates, and his gaze flickers somewhere far away for a moment before returning to me. “Not yet. He needs to stay on the box. Is she okay?”

“She was when I left. I didn’t see anyone watching her. But she saw me, so there was that.”

Cian nods sharply, processing that information with a calculated coolness that would make lesser men shiver. I can’t see what’s going through his mind at my words, but I’m betting it’s not good. “Keep it that way. She, her family, has got nothing to do with this mess.”

There’s an unspoken understanding that Victoria’s safety is paramount. But he knows, as well as I do, that’s not how this world works. The allies will rally, and the Strouds and Gannons are tight, not just Cian and Victoria. She will be dragged into this tangle whether Cian likes it or not.

“G,” Cian starts, his voice hard as steel, “I know this changes things. Between us.”

I shrug. “That’s one way of looking at it. Are you staying at BlackBriar?”

“Yes.”

“Then, as far as I’m concerned, we’re solid. We have our crew, and you just have a bit of extra responsibility, no?”

There’s a cold fire burning in Cian’s eyes now, an intensity that tells me he won’t rest until blood has been paid for with blood. He runs a hand through his hair, a rare show of agitation. “You sure about that?”

“Since when do you have to question me?”

“Never.”

“Then don’t do it now.”

He nods. “We’re upping the game here. This was personal and strategic. They wanted Oisin gone, and now they’ve got it.” He leans forward slightly on the desk, palms pressed flat against the wood grain, a gesture of control over the chaos.

Cian pushes off from the desk and strides over to the shot-out window, staring out at the grounds where order is slowly being restored. The remnants of battle are stark against the serenity of the estate—a grim reminder of our reality.

“We need to secure everything,” he says without turning around. “No one gets in or out without being vetted, and I want surveillance on Kellerman.”

“On it,” I reply. “I’ll head back to campus. You need me there more than here.”

Cian turns back to face me, and there’s a finality in his stance now—a declaration of war.

“We’re going to make an example out of whoever did this. We need to send a message. No one fucks with the Gannons and lives to tell the tale.”

I nod in agreement. This is our world. Brutal and unforgiving. It’s not a life for the faint-hearted, and once you’re in, there’s no way out except in a body bag.

I turn away from Cian, ready to leave, when he calls out after me, “G?”

“Yeah?” I look over my shoulder at him.

“Thanks.”

“Fuck off.”

We share a laugh, and as I make my way out of Oisin’s—Cian’s?—mansion and back to BlackBriar, I feel that things are about to get a whole lot bloodier. Cian’s rage is concrete, and it’s going to spill out into all our lives. The balance has been tipped, and now there’s no telling who’ll be caught in the crossfire.