Page 32 of Iron Crown

The room quieted down, and I ran my finger through Cillian’s hair. I caught a glimpse of my wife beside him, and admired how their noses were the same shape. It was the main thing he inherited from his mum, andI was glad for it.

Playing with his blond hair as I glanced at my wife grounded me. My family was here.

“Is that true, Irish?” Yuliya asked, crystal clear, her accent somewhat softer than before. “You would never hurt a child?”

Shit. What the hell had I done, now? I turned to her, staring into the intensity of her crystal blue eyes. She was looking at me like I owed her money.

“I’ve heard you say that before, haven’t I?” Yuliya formed a cradle with her interlaced fingers, her palms down, as she restedher long chin on top. “I have not spent much time with you. I wonder…”

I clenched my jaw tight.

“No,” I said in a non-committal response. “We haven’t spent much time together.” Then to lighten the mood, I added, to lighten the mood, “Of the Vasilievs though, I must say, other than my Aoibheann, you’re my favorite.”

I let out an awkward laugh, but Yuliya did not let up for a second. Her intense gaze still burned into my skin.

“Rose is a Vasilieva,” Dairo said, his eyes narrowed.

I knew he was getting ready to kick me under the table again.

I don’t know what was going on between them, but I could not deny that he loved her.

“Rose is a Green.” I corrected him.

“She is not–” Jericho began, but his sister interrupted him.

I had to give her credit, not many people had the balls to silence Jericho at his own table.

“Yes, yes.” Yuliya waved a dismissive hand at her brother. “When was the first time we met, Eoghan?”

Shit. She knew. She fucking knew.

“I suppose it was when I dropped Aoibheann off to be married.” Another lie, and I regretted it the moment I said it.

Why was I holding on to this secret so dearly? I wasn’t sure. I had kept it down for so long that it was a part of me. Worse yet, my father’s voice still hummed in my ear about mercy being weakness, and I had shown mercy that day.

“They won’t respect you if you’re weak, boyo.” Even now, his insipid voice plagued my mind, and shut my mouth, as the acidic taste of bile crawled up my throat as though the poison of my secret wanted to burn its way out of my gullet.

Yuliya’s lips tilted up in a smile as she clicked her tongue in reprimand. “Oh, dear. Should I be insulted? That’s what you and Dairo say, no? ‘Don’t lie to me, I take it as an insult?’”

Her blue eyes glinted in amusement. I didn’t know how she would use this information against me. Had she grown up like her brother? Or was she still the same strong-willed thing I had seen decades ago? I wasn’t sure.

“What are you saying,Pikkusisko?” Jericho said. “I don’t like this…intrigue.”

Jericho turned his eyes to me. They were molten, angry, and ready for the slightest excuse to end my life.

My hand curled around my iron blade, ready to jab it in his throat if it came to it.I’d need to keep the blood from hitting Cillian.

“What did you do to my sister?” Jericho growled.

The man was predisposed to hate me, as I was to him. Blood feuds run deeper than the Mississippi, and Jericho Vasiliev was still the son of the man who killed my mother. He had takenthe mantle of his father and torn the bratva from his own half-brother. He’d killed his own family for power.

He knewnothingabout what real family was, even if Aoibheann tried to convince us all otherwise.

“Isoveli,” Yuliya said, before anyone else could chime in, “I must apologize to you. I lied when you rescued me from the Irish.”

What the…

Jericho looked at her, a confused and hurt expression on his face.

---