Page 24 of Claimed By Daddy

Eyes widen and breaths are held as the three of us stand shoulder to shoulder—unshakable. I glance around the room, making eye contact with every man who dared show up tonight. Some look nervous. Others are confused. But none of them speak.

“There are no Italians,” I begin, voice low but steady. “No more Bratva. No more Irish. Those days are over. As of tonight, there’s only one family.Ours.”

Shock rolls through the warehouse like a tide. “Bullshit!” someone spits. “You can’t fucking do th?—”

Without hesitation, Nikolai draws his gun and fires a shot before the man can finish his sentence. The dissenter crumples to the floor as the single shot echoes off the metal walls. The silence that follows is absolute—our message is crystal clear.

“We can do anything we fucking want,” Nikolai coolly retorts, tucking his pistol back into the waistband of his pants.

“You think this city can survive divided?” I ask, stepping forward and filling the silence with purpose. “We’ve spent years killing each other, wasting time, wasting resources. It ends tonight. You’re either with us, or you’re a fucking ghost by morning.”

“This is a new world,” Cillian adds. “You fall in line, or we erase you. Plain and simple.”

“We aren’t asking for your loyalty,” I continue, watching the sea of nodding and uncertain faces. “We’re fucking demanding it. Our fathers are dead, andweare taking their place.”

“We are going to rule this fucking city,” Nikolai finishes, his voice like gravel.

A low voice cuts through the crowd—Marco, one of the older soldiers under my father, steps forward with hesitation etched across his face. His hat is clenched tightly in his hand, eyes flickering between the three of us, like he’s still trying to decide if it’s safe to speak his thoughts. “What about the funerals?” he asks quietly. “Your father built this life for us. He deserves something.”

The silence that follows is sharp. Cillian shifts slightly, but I hold up a hand before he can say anything. My eyes lock on Marco’s. “There aren’t any funerals,” I answer, calm but firm. “They were cremated. All three of them. No names, no services. Ashes scattered before sunrise.” A few people look around, unsettled—it wasn’t the most Catholic thing to do. Someone opens their mouth to protest, but I keep going. “We don’t know who was behind their deaths. Not yet. And untilwe do, we’re not publicly putting all our families in one place for someone to take another shot. We’re not giving anyone the chance to finish what they started.”

“You want to honor them?” Cillian barks, his eyes sweeping across the room. “Then merge our families together. Take everything they built and make it stronger. That’s how you fucking honor them.”Let them, because the three of us aren’t.

For a long moment, the crowd is silent and unwavering. Then someone in the back—an older man from the Irish family—lowers his gaze and nods. Then another. And another. We didn’t ask for permission. We fucking took it. We are the kings of this city now. Three devils at the head of one family—united, ruthless, and unchallenged.

The meeting ends with a quiet acceptance. Our men filter out slowly, whispering and murmuring among themselves. As the last man leaves, Nikolai mutters, “That’s fewer dead bodies than I was expecting.”

“It’s early,” Cillian exhales. “There’s no way they all just roll over and obey.”

He’s right. And fuck do I hate how right he is. “This is just the beginning,” I agree. We’re going to be fighting a war on multiple fronts—disgruntled family members and the Armenians.

And all I can think about is her.Eavan. The way her lips felt against mine, and the way her fingers curled into my jacket like she never wanted to let go. We may have just claimed the city, but I’d give it all away for one more kiss.

A loud, boisterous peal of laughter from outside the apartment jolts me from my sleep. My eyes snap open, heart racing, and I find myself alone in the dim, quiet living room. It takes me a second to place the noise that startled me awake—Nikolai’s guys in the hallway. If they’re going for inconspicuous, they’re failing miserably. They were quite animated in their conversations all night, and apparently, they didn’t tire as morning rolled in.

Sitting up, my neck immediately protests having fallen asleep on the couch and the position I twisted myself into—one arm wedged under my head and my legs tangled in something warm and soft.A duvet. Blinking away the lasttraces of sleep, I recognize the smooth, black fabric immediately. It’s from Enzo’s bed. It smells like him, too—woodsy and sharp, with a spicy undercurrent of ginger. He must’ve covered me up.

That means, they’re back.

My breath blows from my lungs, shaky and full of relief. I clutch the duvet tighter, pulling it to my face and breathing him in. It does nothing to relieve the aching longing in my chest. I wish desperately I were upstairs in his bed, instead of sleeping out here on the couch and pretending this blanket is enough. I want to be in his arms and surrounded by his warmth. I imagine his hands at my waist and his mouth at my ear, whispering the dirty things that make me melt for him. The way he kissed me before he left keeps looping in my mind—possessive and desperate. Like he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving me behind.

I hadn’t meant to fall asleep. I tried to stay up, to be ready in case anything went wrong. I’d paced the floors for hours, heart lodged in my throat, replaying every worst-case scenario I could imagine. Because no one woke me, I assume they’re all here. All three of them. Safe. Alive.

Cillian is the first to make his way downstairs, quickly clanging around the kitchen. Likely making the one breakfast meal he knows how to—toast and eggs. Padding barefoot into the kitchen, I stretch my neck and rub my hand along the aching muscles. “And now you see why I’m so eager to get my bed back,” Cillian teases.

“If this is how you feel every morning, I’m half tempted to give it back to you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Cillian cracks eggs into a bowl, whisking them as I fix myself a cup of coffee. “I’m reaching out to some contractors today to remodel the office and the guest bath. It’ll be a little smaller than you’re used to, but it’ll give you space—privacy. And get me my bed back.”

Nik and Enzo filter downstairs as though their stomachs are drawing them to Cillian’s scrambled eggs. Nik grabs a cup of coffee and sips it at the island, silently scrolling through his phone. Leaning against the fridge, with his eyes locked on me, Enzo sips his black coffee. I pretend not to notice—falsely willing myself to believe that my pulse doesn’t tick a bit faster every time I spy his eyes still on me. Not one of them says a word about the meeting last night. I want to ask, but I also don’t want to know. The drama with the Armenians is more than enough for me right now. I don’t know if I can handle any more.

Cillian plates breakfast for us all, and we take seats at the island—Cillian, then Nikolai, then Enzo… then me. Enzo’s barstool is closer to me than it needs to be, and his thigh brushes against mine beneath the counter. Every little touch feels like a fire. His knee taps mine, and his fingers graze over my thigh, just beyond Cillian and Nikolai’s view. Tiny fleeting moments, but I feel them everywhere. His touch causes my body to react instinctively—my heart racing, breath hitching, and the fluttering between my thighs.

Nikolai tells some ridiculous story about the time he and Cillian stole a truckload of vodka from down at the docks. Cillian—as expected—stays straight-faced, unimpressed with Nikolai’s recollection of events. I smile on cue and laughwhen I’m supposed to, but my entire focus is on Enzo—tracking every breath he takes and the subtle shifts of his body beside mine.

His fingers roam high up my inner thigh. My lips part and let out a tiny gasp before I can catch it. From the corner of my eye, his jaw clenches at my reaction to him. But the others are completely unaware—they don’t see or say a thing. Reaching over me to grab the pepper, his lips press dangerously close to the shell of my ear, and he whispers, “You’re driving me insane, princess. All I can think about right now is eating you on this counter.”

Startled, I swallow hard and suck in a breath, squeezing my thighs together in a futile attempt to quell the desire he just ignited. He shifts back into his seat and sprinkles pepper over his remaining bites of eggs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth like he didn’t just set me on fire.Asshole.

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