Page 8 of Bartered Innocence

“Bring Cillian home for good. If I have to bury my father in a public show, I need you both by my side,” I tell him, gritting my teeth at the inevitable. It’s nearly time for all of us to come home.

He nods, pulling out his phone and leaving me to visit in peace. I knock on the door softly before opening without a response.

The room is dark, the curtains pulled over the windows to block the day, and the lights above are dimmed to the lowest setting. My father mutes the TV and struggles to sit up in his bed as I walk around to the foot of it.

“Don’t move if you’re comfortable,” I tell him.

He rolls his eyes, huffing out an annoyed sigh. “I’ll do as I please, boy.”

A smirk pulls at my lips and I look behind me, pleased to find the chairs I asked Aodhan to set up weeks ago. Dragging one closer to the bed, I sit and cross my foot over my knee.

My father stares back, his mouth set in a thin line.

I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to speak.

He coughs, covering his mouth as the violent shakes rattle through his body. I don’t say anything as he wipes the blood that splattered on his hand on the dark comforter. My jaw tics when he doesn’t acknowledge it either and grabs the water to his side. When done, he sighs and leans against the pillows piled behind him.

“I’m sure Doc told you about the stroke.”

I nod and swallow the discomfort growing in my throat. My father and I were never as close as my mother and I, but he’s the only parent I have left.

“The bastard threatened to put a catheter in if my leg function doesn’t improve,” my father says.

Dropping my foot, I lean my elbows on my thighs, cradling my head in my hands. I blow out another slow breath and look back up at him.

“Stop fighting the suggestions of the medical team. They’re here to make your life easier,” I grit out.

His cheeks flush in anger and he opens his mouth to argue, but I shake my head.

“It’s done. You’ve made choices that directly affect your health and it’s clear you can no longer be in charge of your own decisions.”

My father’s eyes flare, and if he was still the man I knew from my youth, I would already have a bullet hole in my body.

“I’m still head of this family,” he says, the slow drawl of the words vibrating with anger.

“To the outside. Everyone with any responsibility knows to defer to me. It’s how I’ve been handling it in the cities the past few months.”

He wets his lips and then smiles. My stomach drops at the malice of it.

Aodhan knocks on the door at the same moment and opens it without prompt.

“Two cars incoming. Declan says registered to Famiglia,” he says, clutching the phone in his hand tightly.

I sit up in my chair, not glancing away from my father. “Your doing?”

“It’s time to settle this war between our families. I would like to go to my grave knowing you won’t follow me any time soon,” my father says smugly.

Glancing at Aodhan, I nod for him to let Luca and his men through, knowing he’ll check them for weapons. He leaves without another word, and I turn back to face the pain in my fucking ass lying in bed like a satisfied cat.

I ignore the anger calling for me to lash out and focus on what’s important. “What are you suggesting that warrants Luca traveling to us?”

My father picks at invisible lint on his shirt as he shrugs. “You’ll marry one of his girls.”

I stand, knocking the chair back as I lean over to grip the sheets. A different type of betrayal courses through me. “What the fuck!”

He glares at me. “What else did you assume I have to fucking offer? Neither of us want to give up territory. Or am I wrong?”

Huffing out in annoyance, I push away from the bed and move the chair back. He isn’t wrong, but I don’t want to marry anyone either. To be chained to some random pussy, an irritating presence that would pollute the memories of these walls that my ma carefully curated.

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