Page 15 of Shameless Royalty

Connor

Exhausted,IleaveCat’sroom a few hours later, easing the door shut behind me. She’s finally asleep, her breathing soft and even, her tear-streaked face peaceful for the first time since we brought her home.

I lean against the wall outside her door, dragging a hand down my face. The adrenaline that’s been keeping me upright all day starts to fade, replaced by the dull, throbbing ache of exhaustion and pain.

Groaning, I push off the wall and head toward Da’s study. The light spills out from under the door and the low rumble of his voice carries through the thick wood. I don’t bother knocking—I know he won’t mind.

When I step inside, he’s at his desk, barking into the phone like he’s trying to scare the poor bastard on the other end into submission. His voice is sharp, every word a weapon, and even though I’ve heard it a thousand times, it still has a way of making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“Don’t fuckin’ give me excuses,” he snaps, his hand gripping the edge of the desk. “Give me results!”

I close the door quietly and sink into one of the chairs across from him. He doesn’t look at me, his focus locked on the conversation, but I don’t mind. I just sit there, watching him. The weight of everything we’ve been through is written all over him—lines around his mouth that weren’t there a year ago, gray creeping into his blond hair.

The stress of holding this family together, of keeping us alive and in power, is eating him alive. And yet, he carries the same way he always does: like it’s just another part of the job.

I wonder if I’ll ever measure up to him.

He slams the phone down without waiting for a response on the other end, his hand lingering on the receiver as he takes a deep breath. His eyes snap to mine, sharp and focused. But when he sees it’s me, his expression softens slightly.

“Connor,” he says, straightening. “What’re you still doing up?”

I don’t answer right away. Instead, I watch him as he pours himself a glass of whiskey, his movements stiff and deliberate.

“You’re workin’ too hard, Da,” I say, leaning back in the chair.

He snorts, taking a sip of his drink. “And you’re not?”

I shrug, wincing as the movement pulls at my ribs. “Comes with the territory.”

He holds up the bottle, silently offering, but I shake my head. My stomach’s already twisted enough.

“How is she?” he asks as he sits, swirling the whiskey in his glass before taking a sip.

“She’s at ease now,” I say, my voice low. “Fell asleep a couple of hours ago.”

He nods, setting the glass down on the desk. “Good. She’s a tough lass, your sister. More than she knows.”

“She shouldn’t have to be,” I mutter, staring at the edge of the desk.

Da sighs, leaning back in his chair. “Aye, she shouldn’t. But the world doesn’t care about ‘should.’ You know that as well as I do.”

I don’t reply, my hands curling into fists on my thighs. The silence stretches between us, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth.

“You did well, Connor,” Da finally says, his voice softer now. “You brought her back.”

“Barely,” I mutter, shaking my head. “It shouldn’t have happened in the first place.”

His eyes narrow, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “And you think that’s on you?”

“Isn’t it?” I snap. “I’m her brother. It’s my job to protect her, and I didn’t. I let this happen.”

Da’s gaze sharpens, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then, he rises from his seat and walks around the desk to stand in front of me.

“Get up,” he says, his tone firm.

I blink, confused. “What?”

“Get up,” he repeats, gesturing impatiently.

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