Page 45 of Steel Rain

“But she left,” Keith said. “She took another oath to that American military of yours.”

He pointed at me with his finger from above the cigar, the smoke making circles as it drifted upward.

“It negates the oath she was born with.” Keith took a victorious puff of his cigar, letting it out in a long cloud.

Hewantedher to bleed. He wanted to cause her pain. That much was clear. And I wanted to murder him for it.

There was a ticking in my heart, as sure as the wind that whistled through the mansion’s ancient windows. Hewoulddie. Maybe not by my hand, but I would see it. I would be a part of his demise. I just had to wait.

“We’ll discuss the blood oath some other time, Keith,” Dairo, finally, spoke up, his eyes darting between me and Eoghan. “It’s not the time.”

“When is the time?” Keith’s fist clenched on the table, as his face soured like a petulant child.

“Not now,” Eoghan said, looking over at his cousin with a sly grin. “How’s your wife, Rose, by the way?”

Dairo smirked. “Oh, she’s fine. Staying over with her father while I’m out here. The old Russian doesn’t seem to trust the Irish very much, can you believe it?”

Eoghan chuckled. The Russians and the Irish were tied by blood. Eoghan’s stepmother was married to the pakhan of the bratva, who was also Alastair’s father-in-law. It was a weirdly woven alliance that was double knotted twice over. Despite the overlaps, I wondered if one cut would unravel those ties.

Probably not, since Jericho Vasiliev loved his wife, and Dairo was insanely in love with Rose.

Eoghan’s change of subject was really just a distraction anyway, to get Keith off the blood vows. We all knew it.

Keith scowled, before coming to his feet.

“I think I’ll go check on my men before I head to bed,” Keith gave a respectful nod to Eoghan, before pushing his seat back in, and stubbing out his cigar on the ashtray.

He was like a kid who didn’t get his way, so he was going to grab his toys and go home.

We all watched as he left through the double doors, staying perfectly still until the latch firmly clicked shut.

Dairo’s eyes turned to Eoghan. “Why don’t you want to have her take the oath?”

Eoghan took one last puff of the cigarette, almost pulling on it to the filter. Then his eyes darkened as he stubbed it out, then lit another one.

“She has secrets,” Eoghan said, his eyes becoming unfocused as he looked at the table in front of him.

“So?” I asked, leaning into the table.

“Well, look at who suddenly cares about Irish business,” Eoghan gave me a strange side eye, before turning back to his cousin. “She knows where Kira is, and she hasn’t said so.”

“And why would that matter?” Well, fuck. I was fully into Irish drama now. Their politics, their intrigue. I was neck deep in complications. One gorgeous complication called Sinead.

“We have some rules, old friend,” Dairo said, slowly. “If she takes the oath, and continues to defy Eoghan in any way, and doesn’t uphold her marriage contract, then things get complicated.”

“Our punishments are also quite medieval,” Eoghan’s heavy voice was laced with something I didn’t think I read correctly. Was he concerned about Sinead?

“What? You’re going to stick her on a rack? Have her drawn and quartered?” That would be insane, even for the Irish. But there was a look in Eoghan’s eyes …

The fact that his mansion was decorated like a haunted house made it seem all the more plausible. He and his cousin were so deep into this world, they didn’t seem to understand how bat shit crazy all of this actually was. Their peg on reality had been driven so far in one direction that there was no way to bring them back.

“If she doesn’t take the oath, then we don’t have to punish her for keeping secrets,” Dairo continued, as if he was making casual conversation, but I could still feel the tension in the air.

So, it was better she didn’t take the oath then … was that why Eoghan didn’t want her to?

And hell, maybe I was becoming one of them too. Like a frog in water, having the temperature slowly raised until it’s boiled alive.

“But if she doesn’t take the oath,” Dairo said, his tone grave. “Then if any harm comes to her, for any reason, at the hands of one of our own …” He let the words hang heavy in the air, allowing it to fall on us like a malignant fog. “We would be bound to cover it up. Blood of our blood.”

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