Page 120 of Shameless Royalty

“You look like shite,” he mutters, taking a slow sip.

I scoff, crossing my arms. “Appreciate that, Da.”

He exhales, setting his glass down before turning to face me fully. “Malachi.”

Just his name makes my whole body tense. “What about him?”

Da leans back against the desk, tilting his head slightly. “You tell me.”

I keep my expression blank, keep my body still. “What do you want me to say?”

My father studies me like he’s waiting for me to crack, waiting for me to admit what he already knows. But I won’t. Not now. Not when the ache in my chest is still fresh and fucking raw.

“I know you, Connor,” he finally says. “I know that right now, yer barely holdin’ yourself together.”

I force out a laugh, shaking my head. “I’m fine.”

His eyes narrow slightly, and he takes another sip of his drink. “Aye? So you don’t care what happens to him while you’re gone?”

I swallow hard. My throat feels tight, my stomach churning, but I force myself to keep my voice steady. “I can’t care right now, Da.”

He nods slowly, tapping his fingers against the glass. “That so?”

“Aye,” I say, shrugging like it means nothing. Like Malachi means nothing.

The words taste like fucking poison.

Da doesn’t move or react. He just watches me with those sharp green eyes, like he’s peeling back every layer of bullshit I’m trying to throw up. “You really expect me to believe that?”

I lift a shoulder. “Believe whatever you want.”

He sets his glass down with a soft clink, pushing off the desk and walking toward me. When he stops, he’s so close I can smell the whiskey on his breath, the faintest hint of smoke clinging to his clothes.

“Look me in the eyes,” he says quietly and I do. “Say it again.”

I hold his gaze, keeping my shoulders squared and my expression blank. “I don’t ca—” I hesitate, swallowing deeply. I look away briefly, breathe out a sigh and look back at him. “I don’t care.”

Da’s face doesn’t change, but his eyes—fuck, they flay me alive. He sighs, shaking his head like I’m a fucking disappointment. “You’re a shite liar, Connor.”

My stomach twists and I suck in another steadying breath, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “Doesn’t matter,” I mutter, looking away. “I have a job to do.”

He is quiet for a moment. Then, “Aye. You do.”

“Then we’re done here.” I turn toward the door, reaching for the handle, but before I can open it, my father speaks again.

“He’ll be taken care of,” he says simply.

I freeze and my hand tightens around the doorknob, my chest caving in, my whole body screaming at me to turn back—to ask him what he means, to make sure Malachi is safe. But I can’t.

I can’t do this, not when I have to walk out of here and not look back.

So I just nod without looking at him. “Whatever.”

“Connor.”

I glance over my shoulder. “Aye?”

There’s something unreadable in his gaze, something I can’t quite place. Then, finally, he just says, “Be careful.”

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