Page 112 of Ruthless Savior
The fracture lines in my relationship with him are clearer than ever. Once, I would have done anything to fix this. To right the wrong of my father’s disappointment in me.
Now, all I care about is what’s happening in that operating room.
Padraigh clears his throat. "I'm sorry this happened, son."
"Are you?" The words come out sharper than I intended, full of anger and exhaustion. "Because from where I'm standing, this looks exactly like what you wanted."
My father's expression doesn't change, but something flickers in his eyes. "You’re upset. And tired. That’s understandable. But now is the time to?—”
“Strike?” I laugh bitterly. “Don’t worry about that. I have every intention of it. Rocco dies as soon as I know whether or not my wife survives this surgery. I’m going to find him, and I’m not going to stop until I do. How slowly I kill him also depends on whether or not Leila lives.”
My father doesn’t flinch. Violence doesn’t faze him; it never has. He takes a deep breath, his eyes fixed coldly on mine.
"Rocco De Luca is in Dublin," Padraigh says finally. "He came personally to oversee the operation."
I flinch, looking at him in confusion. "How do you know that?"
"Because I made sure he would be."
That one sentence unravels everything around me. The realization of what my father has done hits me like a physical blow, and I stare at him, everything I’ve ever felt and believed about the man I’ve looked up to all of my life shattering. “You fucking bloody bastard,” I whisper.
"I gave our contacts information about where you had Leila. Information that would reach him in a way that looked like intelligence from his own sources." My father's voice is calm, measured, like he's discussing a perfectly reasonable plan instead of using my wife as bait. "I wanted him here, on our territory, away from his main forces in Boston and New York. This was the best opportunity we'd have to end him. And I knew that letting him know where Leila was would draw him out." He gives me a cold, calculating look. “After the last time, I assumed you’d protect her.”
It takes everything in me not to swing at him. The only thing stopping me is the knowledge that someone will call security, and this will escalate far beyond what I can handle right now. “You used her as bait,” I hiss. “Youbastard.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see my bodyguards moving from where they’ve been stationed around the room, ready in case something happens.
I’ve never really thought there was a possibility of actual violence between my father and me until this moment. But right now, it’s not only Rocco that I want dead.
There’s no apology on Padraigh’s face. "I used the situation to our advantage. That's what leaders do, Ronan. They make the hard choices that others can't stomach. I thought it was time you were reminded of that."
Something snaps inside of me. "Hard choices?" I cross the space between us in three strides, my hands fisting in his lapels, slamming him back against the wall. His bodyguards move, but I don't care. Let them shoot me. "She's fighting for her life because of your 'hard choice.' My wife and child might die because you decided to play chess with people I love."
If the revelation of Leila’s pregnancy shocks him, he doesn’t show it. "Get control of yourself," Padraigh hisses, but I see a flicker of fear in his eyes.
Good.He should be afraid.
"You never saw her as a fucking person,” I snarl. “Just a pawn or a liability. I thought marrying her would give her enough legitimacy to make you stand down, but I can see now I was fucking wrong.”
He shakes his head as if he can’t understand me. "She's not one of us?—"
I can’t stop myself, rage surging up through me like an unstoppable force. I swing hard, striking him in the face the way I imagined moments ago, and the satisfying crack of my fist against his jaw echoes through the waiting room. He staggers,blood trickling from his split lip, and his men reach for their weapons.
"Stand down," I bark at them, and something in my voice—the authority I inherited from the man bleeding in front of me, maybe—makes them hesitate.
"You want to know what leadership looks like?" I grab my father by the throat, pressing him back against the wall. "It looks like protecting the people who matter to you. It looks like being willing to die for the woman carrying your child instead of using her as fucking bait."
"Ronan—" He coughs. “Son?—”
"I'm done listening to you." I tighten my grip, watching his face redden. "Finn, Brian, Lee, restrain him."
Three of my men move forward without hesitation, their loyalty to me absolute. It’s the reason I brought them with me here. My father's bodyguards start to intervene, but Finn's drawn weapon discourages them.
"You're making a mistake," Padraigh growls as my men take hold of him and secure his hands behind his back.
"The only mistake I made was ever listening to you in the first place.” I release his throat and step back, straightening my clothes. "Where is he?"
Padraigh meets my eyes without flinching, anger building there. "Who?"
My jaw tightens, and my fist closes again. "Don't play games. Where is Rocco De Luca?"
