He swirled his hand around his face in front of me to stop me from talking. “Listen. This is cute,” he said. “Genuinely. I like seeing you into someone. But Ruby Marquez…well, it’s a weakness.”
I rolled my jaw, refusing to rise to it. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” His voice was sharp now. “The election’s in six weeks, Kieran. Bring me real leverage, or I’ll have to find another way to handle it. And since you like her, I don’t think you’ll be pleased.”
There it was.
Tristan had been nice enough until now. But this? This was an ultimatum.
A knock broke the tension.
“Dad! Uncle Kieran!” Catherine’s voice, muffled through the door. “Lunch!”
Tristan didn’t move.
His gaze stayed on me, waiting for a sign of weakness.
But all I could think was…I could take her right now. Steal her away from this city, from this campaign, from him. She’d hate me for it at first, but she’d be safe. She’d bemine. And no one would touch her again.
I pushed up from the chair, masking the tightness in my chest with a smirk. “Since when do I disappoint?”
“Do you want me to answer that?” he asked, then smiled. “If you want to toy with her, that’s fine. But I need something tangible.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
My heart sank to my stomach. I did already have a plan, but I didn’t want to say it. Saying it to Tristan would make it real, it would make it so that I would have to deliver. My brother didn’t say a fucking thing, he just stared at me, waiting for me to answer. I tried to sound decisive, tried to make my voice steady. Whenever Tristan looked at me like this, there was always a chance I would just sound like a child again. “I could leverage some photos. I could send them to the press. A candidate for district attorney having a romp with a known mobster wouldn’t look good for her.”
He tilted his head and smiled, his blue eyes glinting. “Perfect. You get what you want, I get what I want and she gets what she wants.”
“Which is what?”
“Well, if you’re to be believed, you.”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My stomach turned, not just from how goddamn tired I was, but from the way Tristan looked at me—like I was supposed to nod and play along. Like I was supposed to be proud of myself for weaponizing the one woman who ever meant something.
But that was the game, wasn’t it? He was my brother. My boss. The reason the Callahans still ran Boston instead of bleeding out in the gutter. He’d saved me more times than I could count. Saved all of us.
And if he told me to do it, I would.
Even if it killed me.
“Just don’t take too long, okay? We’re running out of time here. Come on, let’s go before lunch gets cold. Ade will kill us.”
I followed him out of the office like nothing was wrong. Like I hadn’t just agreed to ruin the only person I wanted to protect.
Catherine tackled my leg the second I hit the hallway, and Mateo clambered up me like a monkey. “Double execution!” I declared, swinging them over my shoulders, their laughter echoing like a smoke screen.
But behind it all, I could feel Tristan’s eyes on me. Sharp. Calculating. Like he could see everything.
And for the first time, I didn’t just hear the voice in my head whispering what if he’s right—
I heard a second voice, darker, rougher, mine.
What if I don’t care?
What if I want her anyway?