Page 23 of Bloody Knuckles

The weight of the pistol feels familiar in my palm. Cold metal, warm grip. I check the chamber—habit, not necessity. Declan's weapons are always perfectly maintained.

"Leave us," I order. "Take Miss Gallagher outside."

"No." Aoife's voice rings with surprising authority. "I'll stay."

Connor looks to me for instruction. I consider her request—the witness to family execution, the enemy granted access to our most private shame. By all logic, she should be removed.

Instead, I nod once. "She stays. Everyone else out."

When the warehouse door closes behind them, leaving just the three of us, I turn back to Finn.

"Any last words?"

He meets my stare steadily despite the crimson dripping down his chin. "You'll become him now. With no one left to remind you of who you once were. Once you kill me, you’re just like him—exactly the fucking same monster."

The accusation cuts deep. For a moment, I'm fifteen again—standing over our father's unconscious form, knuckles bleeding, vowing never to become the monster who raised us.

"Remember me as your brother," Finn continues softly. "Not your betrayer."

The gun rises in my hand. One shot. Clean through the heart. Mercy, he doesn't deserve but receives because blood still means something to me.

The retort echoes through the empty warehouse. Finn's body slumps forward, crimson blossoming across his chest. Something breaks inside me—a piece of myself severed and lost forever.

For several minutes, I stand motionless. The gun dangles from my fingers, its purpose fulfilled.

Behind me, Aoife's voice comes soft yet clear. "You didn't shoot him in the head."

I turn slowly to face her. "What?"

"Professional killers shoot in the head. You chose the heart." Her gaze holds mine, unflinching. "Even in execution, you felt something for him."

"Don't mistake a bullet for mercy," I warn her.

She steps closer, unafraid despite the weapon still in my hand, despite the blood covering my shirt, even having just witnessed murder.

"I've seen men kill before," she says. "My father, my brother. Enemies. Associates. There's always something in it for them—pleasure, power, satisfaction." Her head tilts slightly. "You took no joy in this."

"He betrayedeverything." The justification sounds hollow even to my ears.

"Yes." Another step closer. "And still, you suffer for killing him. That's the difference. When you kill for revenge, dig tow graves Cormac, you just died with him."

Her perception unsettles me. This wasn't what I intended when bringing her here—not this strange moment of connection over my brother's corpse. She was meant to witness the brutal enforcer, the monster who holds her captive. Not... this. Not the fracture in my armor.

I turn away, holstering the gun at my waist. "Connor will take you to the penthouse."

"Is that all I am to you now? A prisoner?" Her voice carries an edge. "You brought me here for a reason, Cormac."

"To show you what happens to those who cross me." I face her again, forcing steel back into my voice. "Remember that when you're planning your next move."

She glances at Finn's body, then back to me. "I think you brought me here because you wanted someone to see."

"See what?"

"That it costs you something. That you're nothim." Her meaning is clear—not my father. Not the monster Finn accused me of becoming.

The insight strikes too close to truth. I close the distance between us, backing her against a support column. Blood-stained hands plant on either side of her head, caging her in.

"Don't mistake me for something I'm not," I warn, voice low. "I just executed my brother without hesitation. I kidnapped you to hurt your father. I'll kill anyone who threatens what's mine. Even you."

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