Page 94 of No Promises, No Lies

Solemnly, I reach down, taking Rory’s hand in mine. “Come on,” I tug her after me, but she’s apprehensive. “It’s okay,” I reassure her, squeezing her hand to remind her of the promise I made.

Still unsure, she allows me to tug her down the hall, her hand gripping tight to mine. We walk out to find both of my brothers, Koen and Liam, on the couch. Alex is holding up the far wall with his back, and Reagan is even present, curled up in the armchair by the window. Rory stiffens at the sight of her former bodyguard.

“The Bratva know the Irish have Rory.”

“Jesus, Koen.” I run a hand down my face. “Good morning to you, too.” I find a spot on the couch and tug Rory down next to me.

Koen ignores me, “Adrik has spun a story claiming the Irish kidnapped his daughter and murdered her fiancé.” He frowns.“If it wasn’t war already... It is now. The Mafia is all fired up over Carroza.”

I nod, well aware of the shit storm about to come down on us. Only accelerating the inevitable war with the Bratva and Mafia with my actions last night. Throwing gasoline atop the flames of an already roaring fire.

“Nikolai Kostalov has promised to inflict a slow death upon all the O’Rourkes unless his sister is returned immediately and unsullied.” Rory’s eyes widen, shocked or afraid by her brother’s proclamation—I can’t tell.

Koen’s eyebrow raises when I let out a laugh, leaning back further into the cushions. “Well, I don’t think it’s a secret that quite a bit ofsullyingwent down last night.”

Rory stiffens beside me at the same time Koen’s gaze hardens, and Liam grins, shooting me a sly wink.

Reagan winces across the room, “Gross.”

Clearing his throat, Koen attempts to rein this conversation back in. “You know I have your back, no matter what…” His eyes drop to Rory at my side, our hands still linked, before returning to mine, and I nod.

“We all do—” Alex adds from behind us.

“All that is to say, a war is coming. The Irish are fierce and they are loyal and will fight to the death to protect theirown.” Koen’s eyes bore into mine, full of unspoken words. The silence drags out as I tumble over them. My jaw works as I try to think of any other way…

“I don’t understand,” says Rory slowly, looking between Koen and me.

“There’s no other way?” I ask.

My brother slowly shakes his head.

Rory watches our silent exchange anxiously, and it’s me who answers her, “He means the Irish won’t protect you—us… We have to get married.”

“No—” Panic breaks out instantaneously across Rory’s face and she pulls away from me, pleading with Koen—with me. Scooting further down the couch. “No, please. Don’t make me—I don’t want to get married…”

“We won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.” Koen’s jaw is tight and his eyes don’t leave Rory. I’m watching the two of them carefully.

She’s quiet for a moment, coming to the same cool realization I did only moments earlier. “But if we don’t… it’ll endanger everyone in this room.”

Koen confirms with a dip of his chin.

She lets out a shaky breath, avoiding my gaze before launching to her feet and backing down the hallway. “I just—I need a minute,”she mumbles, disappearing toward the bedrooms.

After fifteen minutes pass with no sign of Rory—at Reagan’s urging—I go after her. Finding my little Russian angel perched crossed legged on my bed, eyes boring down into the chestnut hardwoods.

I join her. The two of us sit in silence for I don’t know how long.

“I don’t want to get married,”she whispers quietly, her eyes glued to the floor.

I look up at the sound of her voice.“Neither do I.”

She looks my way, and I sigh, running my hand a few times through my hair. “Look, your father is dead set on marrying you off, Rory. If he gets his hands on you—again—that’s exactly what he’ll do. Likely to the next in line after Carroza. It could be better,it could be worse…” I search her eyes, trying to guess what she’s thinking. “They’re going to keep coming.”

She closes her eyes, looking an awful lot like she’s going to be sick. Suddenly I sit up. “Do you need your medicine?” Concerned her spiraling might lead to an attack…

Her mouth tightens. “No,” is all she says.

Another tense moment of silence passes before I try again. “I can give you money—ship you out of the country. But this is the Russian Bratva we’re talking about here… Not to mention the Italian Mafia think they have some sort of claim on you as well…” My words end in a growl and Rory looks up. “It’s not a matter of if they’ll find you—it’s when.”

---