Page 7 of Bloody Knuckles

Downstairs, Declan waits by the Bentley, Aoife already inside.

"Any trouble?" I ask.

"Nothing major. She tried to bribe Jenkins with her watch." Declan smirks. "Worth more than his yearly salary, but he isn’t an idiot, he declined."

"Loyalty matters more than money." I clap his shoulder. "You drive. I'll sit with our guest."

Aoife shrinks against the door as I slide in beside her. In this confined space, and her presence intoxicates. The car pulls away from the estate, passing through security gates.

"Where are you taking me?" she asks, breaking the silence.

"Somewhere secure."

"A dungeon? Warehouse? Shallow grave?" Her sarcasm masks genuine fear.

I turn toward her. "A residence befitting your status. I'm not a barbarian, Aoife. And shallow graves get you caught, six feet or more is the only way to bury a body."

Her name feels intimate on my tongue. She notices, jaw tightening.

"Not a barbarian, just a kidnapper, murderer, and extortionist," she retorts.

"Criminal, yes." I shrug. "But one with standards."

Dublin passes outside our windows—pubs spilling patrons onto cobblestone streets, bridges spanning the Liffey, history embedded in every corner. My city. My territory. Aoife tracks it all, mapping our routes, memorizing turns.

"Your father's men will tear the city apart," I tell her. "Wasting time and resources while we negotiate."

"He doesn't negotiate with terrorists."

"Every man negotiates when something precious is at stake."

My hand lands on her thigh, feeling her heat through denim. She flinches but doesn't pull away—a careful calculation that fighting me in a moving vehicle offers poor odds.

"Remove your hand or lose it," she threatens, voice low.

I squeeze instead, moving higher. "You're not in a position to make demands."

The car turns toward the river, approaching Ha'penny Bridge. We pull into an underground garage beneath a restored Georgian building.

"Welcome to your new home," I say as we stop. "Temporary accommodations until our business is wrapped up."

Security meets us, four men stationed strategically. Overkill perhaps, but the Gallaghers aren't known for subtlety. If they do find her, they’ll come at us full force.

The elevator ascends to the penthouse level. Declan unlocks the door, stepping aside for us to enter.

Aoife pauses on the threshold, taking in the space. Floor-to-ceiling bulletproof windows showcase Dublin's skyline, Ha'penny Bridge visible below. Expensive furnishings, artwork, luxury throughout.

"Your gilded cage," I announce. "Guards outside 24/7. Windows bulletproof and sealed. No phone, no internet, no contact with the outside world." I pause. “It’s soundproof, so don’t yell like baby.”

She walks to the window, pressing her palm against glass. "So, I'm your prisoner indefinitely?"

"Until your father meets my demands."

She turns, assessing me. "And if he refuses?"

I cross to her, invading her space deliberately. Her breathing quickens—fear mixed with something she'd deny if I asked her.

"Then our arrangement becomes permanent." My voice drops lower. "But don't worry. I'll ensure you're well cared for."

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