Chapter 2 Lochlan

One Month Ago...

"Wolf, you have twenty seconds to eliminate your target."

Siobhan's calm voice wafts through the intercom earpiece I have on. She sounds just like her brother. In control, badass, and unaffected. It's always business first for the Cahills.

Up until this moment, we've all shared the same philosophy.

The sniper's sight still offers a zoomed image of my target. 38-year-old Italian male. Name: Fazio Vilardo. First born of the Vilardo crime family's Don. He's a high value target that will get us all killed, even after I pull this trigger.

"Ten seconds, Wolf. Target is on the move."

My hand lays over the trigger. I have a clear shot on Fazio's head as he steps out of his mansion, heading for his limo. I can take it and put an end to all of this.

After all, this man's father owes me a life. He took something precious from me years back. He took Lena from Cian, and now the boss is blinded by his hate for the Vilardos, but I can't only think about the past like he is doing. Having a clear head at all times is what has brought me this far.

'Think ahead, but never forget who owes you'.

The future holds more value in the criminal underworld than the past does.

"Take the shot, Wolf." A layer of control slips from her voice as our million-dollar chance slips from our fingers.

The corner of my mouth twitches. Siobhan, the great, finally knows what it feels like to not be in control of a situation.

"Are you there?!" the line breaks, and I can sparsely hear her words, "Take the friggin' shot, Loch!"

"Kiss my ass, Siobhan."

I take the shot.

I miss.

Chaos breaks out in the mafioso's compound. Fazio takes cover inside the building. His men are already scanning building tops. It's not rocket science to know a sniper is in position.

I duck, back against the parapet wall. I dismantle the rifle and toss everything into the black duffle bag I have with me. The sound of our drones leaving reminds me that the entire clan watched me fail.

I don't have a moment to breathe because Cian already knows. I dash for the elevator, but it's currently in use. They are coming.

"Fuck," I curse under my breath, sprinting to the other end of the rooftop.

There's a trap door hidden somewhere on this surface. I run my palms over the floor, searching for it. Time ticks faster than a bat out of hell. Sweat slithers down my spine. I grab something. When I curl my fingers in it and pull, the hole opens.

I toss the bag in, retrieve the parachute, and cover my tracks.

The elevator pings just as I jump over the building's roof.

♡

I always make choices that should land me dead, but each time, I cheat the devil. The door before me folds open, and cool air from the window unit licks my heated skin as I saunter into the tunnel entrance of the clan's headquarters in Manhattan.

Siobhan meets me on my way into HQ. She's deadly pissed. That tough as nails look on her face should never be underestimated. Not even by gods.

"What happened out there?" she crosses her arms over her chest, putting her weight on one foot.

"I missed."

"Bullshit. You never miss."

"Aye, but there's a first time for everyone."

She intercepts me again, pulling at my shoulder once. "Loch, talk to me." Her concerned blue eyes find mine. "Because my brother is ragin', and you are about to lose your head."

I consider it. Siobhan and the rest of the Cahill's are my family, but they will never understand why I chose to save Vilardos life. Cian has already heard my reason many times, but he's too blinded.

"I need a drink."

"Can't do, Loch. That will have to hold. The boss is waiting."

I move ahead of her, savvy of my way around this underground warehouse that spans across all of Hell's kitchen. I live in Dublin now, but I grew up here. When Cian's father recruited me, this was where I worked.

I enter the conference hall a few distances away from the tunnel entrance. The noose around my chest loosens when I notice the screen's disconnected.

"Ya feeling relieved, right?"

I don't have to look. I pull a seat back and settle down, bending forward with my elbows on my knees. The wait kills more, I realise.

Rhys Cahill has his ankles locked on the wide grey table. He's a clan general, presiding over our American outfits. He's never been the kind to work a suit, but he sports a three-piece now and manages to actually look comfortable inside it.

"'Tis a good reason for relief, Rhys. How's it going with you?"

"Grand, that is, until an eejit pissed all over the Italians, and now we might have just started a feckin war."

"War?" I scoff out loud, "The death of Fazio Vilardo would have brought an apocalypse to our doorsteps."

Siobhan walks in as Rhys slams his palm hard on the table, "This is me turf, Lochlan. I have maintained peace with the five families for over a decade. It's a shame you'd never understand the fierce gravity of what you've just destroyed."

"The Vilardos have allies we do not want to piss off by killing his-"

"The Skipper gave an order. Our codex commands you to obey without question."

"Rhys, enough!" Siobhan sets in place a hardened face and thinned lips, and order returns to the table. "The boss wants to speak to him alone."

They leave.

I tap my right foot repeatedly on the tiled ground. My body still aches from my landing with the parachute. It's the craziest thing I have tried this year, but I couldn't risk a confrontation with the Vilardos.

They can't suspect Cian called the hit. I chose to land in a pile of bushes while presented with a fifty-fifty chance at survival. Simply put, I don't plan on wasting my sacrifice.

The large flat screen comes on. A tiny grey circle rotates at its centre for a split second. I'm not prepared for the sight of Cian's face.

Shite.

"Ye betrayed me, Wolf," he says.

Cian's blank face is as deadly as poison. There's a sea of rage underneath, but when it's quiet like this, he's in a more unforgiving mood.

I stand contrite, clasping my hands in front of me. "I missed, boss. Forgive me."

"On purpose, yeah. Did ye cut a deal with the Vilardos?"

"I would never do that to you."

"But ye would steal me chance at revenge. Make a bags of it and look me in the eye and say 'ye wouldn't do that to me'?"

This is bad. He's not even listening to me. I step closer to the screen.

"Cian, I still think we have a rat. Whatever choice I made would have bade farewell to peace-"

"Lena was yer sister and ye saw what that goon did to her." His tight voice speaks volumes. Tears. Pain. He never really healed.

"I remember, but this is about Vilardos fool trying to sway our biggest heroin domain to two-time. One life equals dozens. Even Renaldi won't have our backs if we had chosen to spill blood. Amn't I right about that?"

He pauses for a long minute.

"Me don't know about ye, Lochlan, but don't bother coming back here."

The screen goes black.

"Cian!"

I rub my temple. So, this is what getting the sack feels like? He didn't want me out of the clan, though. He just doesn't want to see my face, which means well, I guess.

I pull the door open. Siobhan's right outside, still looking concerned about my head. Will her brother have it? But she should know by now that Cian would choose to honour our friendship first.

Unfortunately, we are underground. There's no chance at getting fresh air down here, but the idea of a drink is no longer on hold. I don't see Rhys lurking around the halls, and I think that's the best thing yet.

"A pint of the black stuff doesn't make you any less screwed, Loch."

I smile at her. "You sound almost American now."

"That's not the point here."

I fill the beer glass, getting a sense of peace when the foam hits my lips.

"He said he doesn't want me back in Dublin."

"Could have gone way worse." She shrugs, leaning against the wall next to the sofa in this well-lit room.

"Aye." I grumble.

After a beat, she hands me a paper. "Rhys prepared this for you."

"What is it?" I arch a brow, wary of it, "Because your brother will never hand out favours in that state. I'm public-enemy-number-one in case you didn't notice."

"I put in a good word for you."

"Bless you, Siobhan."

She rolls her eyes. "The Italians won't be suspicious if the clan's Warlord is here for actual work."

"I'm no one's reaper. One job was enough." I swipe at her wrist, pushing the paper out of my face.

But she throws the flippin thin on my lap.

"The target is Sophie Lockwood. 5'7, blonde twenty-five year old and a regular at the Crown nightclub. Her father's the renowned show host, Nolan Lockwood."

I scowl. "This is good craic for you, isn't it?"

"Kill the girl," Siobhan walks away from me, looking over her shoulder only once, "For your sake, Loch, get it right this time."