Page 130 of Brutal Heir
I make my way down the linoleum corridor, heart rattling against my ribs. Room 103.
Paddy’s room.
He won’t be there. Not today. He’s gone for his monthly check up with Doc McNally. But the staff won’t realize I know that.
I slip inside, closing the door behind me with a soft click. The room’s dim, the curtains drawn, one bedside lamp casting golden light over the worn recliner beside the window.
And there he is.
Bran.
I draw in a breath, my past and present colliding in hyper speed. Only a few hours ago, I was ready to put all of it behind me. To start a new life with Alessandro. And here I am, dragged back into the past.
Bran leans against the wall, arms folded across his chest. Same unruly auburn hair as mine, same stubborn jaw, though his is lined with exhaustion and something darker. Guilt maybe. Or worse, resignation.
I stiffen, every instinct screaming to run, but I don’t.
“Where is Da?” I ask, voice flat.
“Back home. Conall’s men took the piss out of him a few days ago. The old man is barely alive.”
I wait for the ache to come, to feel something for the man who raised me, but it never does. It surprises me, even after all the shite I went through because of him. “And Blaine?”
Bran exhales through his nose, dragging a hand through his hair. “He’s alive. For now.”
“Don’t feck with me, Bran.” My voice cracks like a whip. “If Blaine’s already dead—” Like Maeve… I don’t dare speak her name out loud.
“He’s not.” My brother pushes off the wall, steps toward me slow and heavy. “He’s at a holding site near Cork. I’ve been getting messages through a burner. He’s bruised, but breathing. Conall wants a trade.”
My stomach churns.
“I’m not an object,” I spit. “I’m not something to be handed over like a damned prize.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Bran’s voice is low, rough. “You think I wanted any of this? But I’ve got no power left, Brig. They stripped us of it, me, Da, all of us the day you ran. The only reason I’m still walking is because I agreed to help bring you in.”
A beat of silence stretches like a blade between us.
“Youarecoming back with me, aren’t you?” he adds quietly.
I blink, and suddenly I’m not in this drab little room in the nursing home anymore.
I’m curled on the couch in Alessandro’s penthouse, his head in my lap, eyes closed, lashes brushing his scarred cheek. My fingers thread through his dark hair, and for once he looks… peaceful. Like the war inside him is sleeping. A rare lull between storms.
He murmurs something I barely catch. “Don’t go.” Then tightens his grip on my thigh like he already senses I’m slipping away.
That was two nights ago.
I told him I’d never leave him.
And now I’m about to prove myself a liar. Again.
I glance down, jaw clenched so tight it aches. “Conall will kill me.”
“He’ll kill Blaine if you don’t come back.”
And you think he won’t kill me after? I don’t say it. I can’t.
Is my life worth more than my brother’s? Not if I’m forced to spend whatever I have left of it with Conall.
