Page 123 of Dublin Beast

You are loyal, stubborn, brave, and I’ve had the privilege of filling your heart for seven glorious years. Seven years of sharing classes, laughter, and dreams of a future that sadly will never be.

But nothing can take those years or those moments away from us—not even death.

Not even you moving on.

I mean it, Bryan. You’re as stubborn as rocks, but I’m telling you to move on. It’s going to sound like a cliché meme but get back out there. Live, laugh, and love.

It’s not a betrayal. It’s not leaving me behind. It’s not betraying me. I will always hold the honor of being your first love, so put that big heart of yours out there and find yourself a new love.

And when you find her, give her a message from me. Tell her I wish her strength and patience dealing with you, and nothing but happiness for a long life together.

And maybe, if she’s up to it, take her to meet my parents. They love you, Bryan. Let them be a part of your life. It’ll help them move on, too.

I love you, heera.

In life, death, and beyond.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE

Harper

Ipad through the wide, stone corridor, the plush rug soft beneath my feet. The Quinn castle is nothing like what I expected. It’s grand and imposing from the outside, but from the inside it’s a true home.

From the family pictures to the warmth of the décor, it’s clear these boys were raised in an environment of love and warmth—which seems at odds with them being the crime family of Northern Dublin.

But after working with the women downstairs, I see it more clearly. The Quinn brothers are truly committed to being the lesser of the evils of the land. If they weren’t here, doing what they do, the McGuires or someone like them would fill the vacuum and things would be so much worse.

And I judged him for it.

I press a hand against the tension in my chest. Yeah, I judged him, yelled at him, and insulted him. And still, he and his family welcomed me into their home, protected me, and are helping me with my quest to take down an organization that will no doubt put them in a difficult position. But still they’re helping me.

I stop outside the door to Bryan’s room and raise my fist to knock. Do I knock? I’m staying here, with him. I know he’s finished with his meeting downstairs, but I don’t even know if he’s in there.

Deciding not to look at that too closely, I grip the door handle and let myself in. The room is just as impressive as it was the first time I saw it.

The stone walls and thick tapestry drapes are like something out of Medieval stories. The fire in the hearth is crackling, giving off a warm glow and a subtle pop and sizzle in the background. And then there’s Bryan…

He’s sitting on the bed, his legs stretched out long, his shoulders hunched like he’s carrying the weight of the entire world on his shoulders.

And he's crying.

Not loudly. Not brokenly. But silently—grief etched into every hard line of his beautiful face.

My chest tightens.

I’ve seen him fight and kill. I’ve seen the storm and the stillness that lives within him. But this is a side of him I wasn’t prepared to see… and it undoes me.

For all my need for control and justice and fighting the fight, I missed the most important part of Bryan—the man behind the muscles.

He doesn’t look up. Doesn’t move. Just stares at a piece of paper in his hands.

I hover by the edge of the rug, torn between the instinct to step back and worrying that maybe I shouldn’t disturb his sorrow.

But I can’t leave him suffering.

He doesn’t acknowledge me until I crawl up the bed and settle in beside him. I snake my arm across his waist and hug him, laying my cheek on his shoulder. “What do you need?”

At first, he doesn’t respond, so I just hold him.

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