Page 181 of The Thief
"Is that enough?"
"It's everything." She links her arm through mine, the gesture casual but meaningful. "Welcome to the family, cousin. Really welcome this time."
For the first time since Henry's death, I think I might actually believe her.
I am a Gallagher. I do belong here. And maybe, with time and patience and the love of people like Holly and Denis and Freddie, I'll figure out how to carry that legacy forward.
How to honor the man who died believing I was worth saving.
How to be the granddaughter he knew I could become.
CHAPTER THIRTY
freddie
The house is different. Being here without him feels weird. This is where Jer held meetings when business got complicated, when decisions needed to be made away from prying eyes and listening ears. This house was his and everyone was welcome, anytime.
Now it's where Maverick is calling his first official meeting as head of the Houlihan Gang.
I arrive early, like always. Old habits from years of working for a man who valued punctuality almost as much as loyalty. The space echoes with memories; late nights planning jobs, early mornings dividing scores, the countless hours Jer spent teaching us the difference between being criminals and being professionals.
Stephen's already here, leaning against the back wall, checking his phone. Emmanuel arrives five minutes later, followed by the rest of the crew. Twenty-three men in total, everyone who worked directly under Jer. Everyone who's now looking to his nephew for leadership.
They file in quietly, respectfully. These are hard men, killers and thieves all of them, but there's something subdued about the gathering. We're still mourning. Still figuring out how to move forward without the man who held us all together.
Maverick enters last, which is smart. Let everyone else settle, let the anticipation build, then make your entrance. He's learning the theatrics of leadership, understanding that being in charge is about more than just giving orders.
He looks good. Confident. The grief is still there—probably always will be—but he's channeling it into something useful. Something Jer would recognize and approve of.
"Gentlemen," he says, voice carrying across the warehouse. "Thank you all for coming."
The conversations die away immediately. Twenty-three sets of eyes focus on the man who's about to define what comes next for all of us.
"I know this isn't easy," Maverick continues. "We've lost our leader, our friend, the man who built everything we have. Jerry Houlihan was irreplaceable."
Murmurs of agreement ripple through the gathered men. These aren't empty platitudes. Every person here owes something to Jer; freedom, purpose, life itself in some cases.
"But he didn't build this organization to die with him. He built it to last, to provide for our families, to give us something worth protecting. And that's exactly what we're going to do."
I find myself nodding along with the others. This is good. This is what Jer would have wanted—his nephew standing up, taking responsibility, refusing to let grief turn into paralysis.
"Trace Harrington is dead," Maverick says, and the temperature in the room drops several degrees. "The man who killed Jerry, who started this war, who brought pain to our families; he's gone. Freddie made sure of that."
Eyes turn toward me, and I feel the weight of their respect. Not just for the kill itself, but for the justice it represented. Trace had it coming, and everyone here knows it.
"But that doesn't mean we can relax. It doesn't mean we can go back to business as usual. The world's changed. We've changed. And we need to adapt."
He moves to the center of the room, commanding the space like he was born to it. There's something of Jer in his bearing now, that same quiet authority that makes dangerous men listen.
"From now on, we're restructuring. Becoming more than just a crew. We're becoming a family in every sense of the word."
Smart move. If we operate on family principles, it'll make us stronger. More loyal. Harder to break.
"Stephen," Maverick says, looking toward the man leaning against the wall. "You're my second in command. My right hand when it comes to operations and planning."
Stephen straightens, surprise flickering across his face before settling into determination. Good choice. Stephen's smart, careful, thinks three moves ahead. Exactly what Maverick needs beside him.
"Emmanuel," Maverick continues. "You're head of security. Personnel, protection, making sure our people stay safe."
