Page 52 of Sins of the Father

At noon, footsteps echo in the hallway outside my door. I grab my gun, move to the peephole.

Cillian stands there, but he looks different. Exhausted. Disheveled. His usually perfect suit wrinkled, hair messed, knuckles scraped raw.

I open the door, keeping the gun visible.

"Jesus, what happened to you?"

He enters without invitation, shrugging off his jacket. "I found Collins."

My heart stops. "Where?"

"Hiding in a warehouse near the docks. Under Donovan protection." Cillian drops into my chair, wincing. "Had an interesting conversation."

I notice blood on his shirt collar. "You fought him?"

"Him and three of Donovan's men." Cillian flexes his damaged knuckles. "Collins talked before he died."

The words hit me like ice water. "He's dead?"

"Very." Cillian meets my eyes. "Eamon killed him an hour ago. Family justice."

I stagger backward, gun forgotten. "Eamon? But he?—"

"Killed your father on Collins' orders. Yes." Cillian stands, moving toward me. "Collins confessed everything before he died. The embezzlement. Manipulating Eamon. Framing your father as a threat to our entire organization."

My legs give out. I sink onto my couch, mind reeling.

"Eamon knows the truth now," Cillian continues. "About what Collins made him do. About your father's innocence."

"And?" My voice sounds distant.

"He volunteered to face whatever punishment you deemed appropriate."

I laugh, sharp and bitter. "Punishment? Like what—say he's sorry?"

"Or die by your hand."

The words hang between us. Cillian's face shows no emotion, but his eyes burn with intensity.

"You'd let me kill your brother?"

"Justice requires payment." He sits beside me, careful not to touch. "Your father died because of Collins' manipulation and Eamon's action. Collins paid with his life. Eamon awaits your decision."

I stare at my hands. Seven years planning revenge. Now the moment arrives, and I feel empty.

"Where is he?"

"Safe house. Guarded but not hidden." Cillian pauses. "He wants to meet you. To explain. To face whatever comes."

My phone buzzes. Text message from unknown number:Your boyfriend found Collins. But Collins wasn't working alone. Watch your back.

I show Cillian the message. His face hardens.

"Donovan," he says. "Collins was feeding them information about our operations."

"For how long?"

"Years. Maybe since your father's death." Cillian stands, pacing. "They know you have evidence. They know I'm protecting you."

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