Chapter 5 Lochlan

One month later...

This isn't how I imagined walking down the aisle someday, but I'll take it because I'm one step closer to saving my head.

Zane Jakobsen leaks blood on the canopy's floor ahead, and the boss's lip-locking his new bride, who's as responsive as a wet towel.

Fellas from our clan cheer him, even I break a smile, clapping my hands for a split second. It's common knowledge that my life hangs on a thin line that's hooked around Cian's finger. Once he lets go, Zane's death will be a lot nicer than mine.

He lifts their clasped hands in the air, putting on a show for the pale crowd. I want to laugh like the rest of us, but I don't. I freeze on the aisle when he makes her face her audience, hands limp at my side.

No fucking way.

Her?

Look, I'm about to confess something big to you all. But swear you won't say a word to Cian, or you'll face my wrath. Swear it.

Missing a headshot on Fazio Vilardo wasn't the only mistake I made one month ago. This girl is one of them. The boss's new wife. And you know what they say about fate, it's a flippin' bitch.

Our codex demands that we leave no traces behind. No matter the cost, clean up after you. It is simple until you meet someone who makes you wish you were in a different life.

With Ellie, I didn't clean up after me. I missed it countless times. Now, it turns out that she's the only daughter of Freddie Martin, the man who's every mob boss's enemy.

Cnag. I should have sent her away like I did the blonde one. Be it Indonesia or Africa, somewhere across the damn globe was far better than in front of me.

From the corner of my eye, I glimpse Freddie Martin, getting on his feet and pointing a gun at Cian's head. I'm right behind the formely-crippled man in a flash, breaking his wrist until the weapon falls to the ground.

"Glory," Cian claps his hands in awe, "Ara Freddie! Ye have been healed."

The aged man clutches his broken wrist, hunched in pain. His gun's now neatly tucked away in my hip. Yet I can't stop looking at Ellie Martin, so help me, God.

Shock writes over her face as she stares at her father. Her mouth is agape. Who knows how many times she's cried because she thought her father's gone. Now he's standing on his feet, a man whose thinking faculties are clearly operational to have hidden a gun in his wheelchair.

We all suspected it, but Freddie's empire had been razed to dust. He had nothing left to his name, so the families spared him as a form of punishment.

"I laid low, Cian. Please spare my daughter. Don't take her with you."

"But she's me wife now," a wolfish smile colours over the skipper's face, "Me beautiful wench." He forces a kiss on her cheek, and I frown, wishing he'd just get it over with.

Freddie gets on his knees. "The families finished Four Cobras five years ago! But if you wish, take me instead. Just please...please have mercy on my family, Cian."

"Aye, aye. Mercy is me middle name. But ye must have heard the saying 'Cahills always collect what is owed'."

Terse silence reigns.

"90 million, right? I-I will have your money ready somehow."

My chin crooks into my chest. A silent laugh plays on my lips. What a fool.

"But ye have already paid, Freddie."

Freddie understands the implications of what the boss just said moments later. Ellie paid the price. Her happiness was exchanged for 90 million dollars. The man's hands begin to shake as he rubs his palms together, pleading for a second chance.

He falls on all fours, miserably. I glance sideways at his daughter as my boot comes down on his broken hand, going for the kill. No one threatens the skipper and lives to tell the tale. Although we've found middle ground on that particular code, he still must be taught a lesson.

I still watch Ellie closely. Her empty eyes stare at the grassy floor, unmoving. She's a mirror of who he was a while ago. Half-dead, half-alive.

If Cian notices, he doesn't care. He drags her down with him, approaching me.

"Meet me inside, Wolf."

I nod, abandoning Freddie to our men and following behind. When her wedding dress makes her lose a step, Cian tears off the draping hem in one rough motion, leaving her legs exposed. My fingers dig into my palms when I catch her surprised gasp. I'm not crazy but hearing that sound from her made my crotch harden.

Those are undeniably fine legs. A notch cuts between my brows as I wince at my own line of thoughts.

A few minutes later, I'm shutting the front door of Freddie's house behind me. Cian throws Ellie in his sister's way. The poor girl spins, crashing into a stern-faced, confused Siobhan.

"Shite! This is why you are like the cloud, Cian. When you are around, the day darkens," his sister hisses at him.

"Love ya, too, Siobhan. Now tie the wench up!" Cian says as he walks, awfully too savvy of the place.

Immediately, I make a swift move of my hand over my neck, warning her to ignore him. She glares at me and takes Ellie's arm.

Siobhan snuck in before the wedding and hacked into the alarm system and disabled the phone networks within a mile's range from here. Honestly, the Martins have a lovely mansion-the only thing Freddie managed to keep under his name-but I'm eager to return to Dublin now, eager to know where I stand in Cian's books.

I walk into the lounge. There's a fireplace. A TV set. A wine bar. Four luxurious sofas and two chandeliers in the grand space. But I couldn't care less about furniture, not when Jaime Cahill is sitting right there.

He's the general of the clan's extensions in Spain and a few other England turfs. Jaime is also my rival because I automatically became Cian's second and Warlord when he took over as the clan's skipper.

Many think giving a non-family member that much power is a dumb move. I think those many should drop dead in the middle of the sea.

They already have, but that's gist for another day.

Something's going on now, and I've been in the dark about it. Anger climbs every part of my being, like vines as I approach.

I frown. "This is far from what I expected."

"Did ye expect a round of sliánte or an early Christmas?" Rhys jokes.

I flip him the bird and he laughs, shutting up when his mouth closes on the rim of his beer glass. He hasn't forgiven me for what happened, but the past is almost behind us. I hope.

I sit on the opposite sofa, elbows on knees. "Cén scéal, Cian? Why is Uncle Jaime here?"

"Because the commission is meeting as we speak," he says cooly.

The commission of the five Italian-American families that have ruled over New York and other states for years is the most feared group alive. They do not like themselves, but they are one because of the 'commission'. It is the only place where each family deems themselves equal, but this is most likely to occur when they have a common enemy.

"Rhys, were you informed about this meeting?"

He shakes his head.

I drag my teeth over my bottom lip, foot slightly tapping the ground. Since we called a truce with the families, they have kept us up to speed about the important things when it comes to mob relations. This is definitely important, and they've gone back on their word for a reason.

"They want war."

"Aye. For a month now, things have been tense."

"Cnag! Why didn't you inform me or Siobhan?!" I look at the faces in the room and lean back in my seat.

I'm the only one who didn't know what was coming for us. The clan's warlord. Should there be anything I don't know? Absolutely not. Information is part of my job.

"Cian, Ni thuigim!" I stand, incapable of hiding the hurt louding in my voice, "Má tá aon duine a bhfuil do dhroim aige, is mise é."

"Suigh síos!"

I obey him and sit my arse down, rage still climbing like a skyscraper inside me.

Uncle Jaime says, "Ye was right about a spy, Wolf. Someone ratted to Iron hands that our skipper planned the hit on his fool."

"We spent a whole month reevaluating yer loyalty to the clan, Lochlan," Rhys adds in an unenthusiastic voice.

I think about the jobs. Working the streets for Siobhan because Cian had ordered me not to return. It was a test. My family wanted to know if I had betrayed them. They couldn't tell it apart themselves.

"And did you fellas find anything that was worth betraying me?" I grit.

Cian says, "You cast the knife first, Lochlan. Disobeying me."

He shows how good he is at switching accents. We can all pull off a straight American accent, but we have our preferences.

"I disobeyed your order because of this exact moment. The commission is meeting right now because we attempted to kill Vilardos son and not because we actually did it!"

They go quiet.

"I am your warlord. Strategy is a fucking game to me."

Out of the five families, two are our sworn allies, provided that we never shed Italian blood. I've suspected a rat amongst us for a year now. I was a thousand and one times sure of what Vilardos card would be once we moved on his son, Fazio.

Don Vilardo would go to the commission and destroy the truce. He would rally the Italian-American mafia to drive the Irish out of America for good. His first turn would be Santerramo, another clan enemy. Benito will immediately support his claim to start a war.

Two against two.

Leaving Don Ludovico Cammarota with the deciding vote. And he's neither foe nor friend.

"Strategy may be a game to ye, Lochlan, but it is me play thing," Cian stands, tossing his cigarette on the fluffy carpet and stepping over it, "I didn't come here today for 90 million. Ludovico and Freddie Martin have a long history, and I'm going to use that to get what I want."

I shake my head. "The Four Cobras gang is dead. Don Cammarota has no use for a useless friendship-"

"Actually, the Four Cobras didn't die. They split up into twelve less influential gangs." Rhys lays a set of photographs of faces I don't recognise on the table at our centre. "There are still plenty willing to die for the Martins on the streets."

Ah, so I was right to keep Ellie alive. By marrying Ellie Martin, Cian will acquire the Four Cobras gang-the entire fucking American mob-and Ludovico will have a reason to become a friend of the clan.

"But is that a concrete reason? Alliances are formed on things much deeper than friendly connections-"

"I will pay Ludovico a visit. Offer him a deal he can't refuse."

The boss is sacrificing a whole lot on that reckless move. If Cammarota isn't who we think he is, then Cian will be walking into a trap.

"Let me go in your stead."

"Me head enforcer will have more important matters to oversee," Cian heads for the door, shoulders arrogantly squared, "Someone has to keep the new wench I've just acquired in check. Ensure she's breathing at all times. At least, until Vilardo's claim wanes."

A dead weight settles in the pit of my stomach. "Easy. Assign some boneman."

Just before he exits, he looks over his shoulder and says, "Ye have the job, Wolf. Fail me again, and I won't hesitate to cut ye off."