Page 136 of The Thief
"I wouldn't want to. This is better. Harder, more dangerous, but better."
"Come on," I say finally. "Time to face the world."
"Do we have to?"
"Unfortunately. But tonight, we come back here. To this."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Because no matter what happens today, no matter what we discover or who we have to fight, this is what we're protecting. This love, this connection, this chance at something beautiful in a world gone mad.
It’s worth every risk we'll take to keep it.
It’s worth everything.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
alastríona
I shouldn't be listening to this conversation, but I can't bring myself to leave.
The men are gathered in Henry's study, spreading lies like poisoned bait, and I'm curled up in the chair by the window, pretending to read while absorbing every word. They think I'm not paying attention, think I'm lost in whatever book I picked up from Henry's shelves.
They're wrong.
"Right," Freddie says, checking his notes. "We give Mike the story about moving Alastríona to the Cork safe house. Timeline of three days, minimal security." From what I've heard, Mike is Denis' right hand man.
"And Patterson gets the Belfast relocation," Stephen adds. "Complete with fake IRA connections." Patterson is one of the Houlihan men. He's been part of the security detail that Maverick and Freddie has put on me that has joined the Gallaghers’ men.
"What about the others?" Stephen questions, his arms crossed over his chest. He's pissed—hell, they all are.
Denis consults his list. "Murphy—the Dublin Murphy, not Belfast—gets told we're moving her to London. Temporary extraction until the heat dies down."
Each name they mention feels like a weight on my chest. These are men I've met, men who've been nothing but respectful and professional in my presence. The idea that one of them has been selling us out to Trace makes my stomach turn.
"Jason?" Maverick asks, and I see how the room changes when he says the name.
Every man in here goes still, shoulders straightening, jaws tightening, something defensive flickering in their eyes. Jason's not just one of the Houlihan men; he's one of the closest to Freddie, Stephen, Maverick, and Emmanuel.
I barely remember Jason. When he drove us to the hospital after Trace stabbed me, I was half-conscious, bleeding out, and focused entirely on staying alive. He could have been anyone behind that wheel; just a voice telling Freddie we'd make it in time, hands steady on the steering wheel while my world went dark.
"Jason gets the Spain story," Freddie says finally, but his voice is careful. Controlled. "Private jet, new identity, completely off the grid."
"You really think it could be him?" Emmanuel asks quietly.
"I hope not." The pain in Freddie's voice is unmistakable. "But we can't let sentiment cloud our judgment."
I watch their faces as they discuss Jason's potential betrayal. These hard men, killers all of them, look like they're discussing the death of a favorite brother. Which, I suppose, they are.
The way they talk about him tells me everything I need to know. Jason matters to them. He’s earned their trust, their respect, and their love over years of service and friendship.
If it's him, if he's the one who's been feeding information to our enemies, it'll destroy something in all of them.
"Timeline?" Stephen asks.
"We brief them this afternoon. Separately, carefully. Make sure each story feels organic, not rehearsed."
