Page 56 of Destructive Truths

“Gabriel King and all his fucking cronies almost killed me that night at the Hellfire Club. The doctors said it was a miracle I didn’t miscarry after everything they put me through. You were always a fighter, Saoirse. Have been before you were born.” She smiles a sad smile, but the raw honesty in her eyes gives me a reason to prove her right. “Now, put your game face on, baby.” My mam grabs my hand and urges me from the shadowy tunnel. “It’s time to show these arseholes what you’re made of.”

With every breath, my chest expands. Steeling my shoulders, I straighten my spine as I take the first step. Every day since I stepped into the Killybegs world has led to this moment, and knowing my mother did whatever she had to do so she could stand beside me as we face our demons—both past and present—makes me want this win even more.

For her, for me, for the Ryan family name.

Heads held high, we make our way around the edge of the octagon, ignoring the audible gasps sounding through the crowd as we climb the three steps and make our way to the centre of the ring where Hannah and Gabriel await.

It’s been years since anyone last saw Éanna Ryan, and now she’s back, ready to watch her daughter take what this world stole from us both. This may be a man’s world, but Killybegs is a woman’s kingdom. Nothing and no one will stop me from taking back what’s rightfully mine.

Gabriel schools his shock with a slight shift of his shoulder, but I see the madness swirling in his piercing eyes before he quickly schools his features. “Well, well. If it isn’t Éanna Ryan.” Her name rolls off his tongue, shooting shivers up my spine.

My mother tightens her hold on my hand, assuring me she’s got this. “Gabriel. How unfortunate to see you again.”

“I see you rose from the dead to watch me take the Ryan throne for a second time.” Motherfucker. I swear, one of these days I will enjoy watching his demise.

“On the contrary.” She smiles and tilts her head slightly. “I came to see my daughter wipe the fucking smug look off your poisonous face. By the way, how’s your shoulder? Heard you had an accident recently.” Her tone is sweet like molasses, dripping with sugar-coated hate, but her delivery has its desired effect. Judging by the glowering twitch of Gabriel’s right eye or how his teeth grind together behind his growl, Éanna’s presence is rattling him. But knowing what I know of him, he’d never let it show, at least not in front of the entire syndicate’s watchful gaze.

Next to him, Hannah stands with her hand on her hip, lips pouting like a brat. “Can we get this over with?” She rolls her eyes. “It’s about time somebody put this bitch back into the hole she crawled out of.” She’s trying to rile me, hoping I will lose my cool and snap back—not today, bitch.

Suddenly, Oliver steps between Gabriel and us, holding the microphone to his lips. “Sponsors, please take your respective places behind your initiate’s corner.” In an instant, the flood-lights dim, and Hannah and I walk forward, meeting in the centre, forearms stretched out as we raise our wrapped knuckles before tapping them together. “May the strongest candidate—”

“Wait!” Rohan gains the attention of everyone as he bounds into the octagon with a devilish grin painted across his face. The crowd falls to a hush until all I hear is my heartbeat invading my eardrums.

“What in the fuck is going on?” Gabriel roars, breaking through the stunned silence with his outrage. “You’re interrupting syndicate business. Get out of the fucking octagon.”

“Rohan,” Oliver warns, “you need to remove yourself. This is an active trial.”

“No offence, Ollie, but there isn’t a day I’ll ever do anything you ask me to do. Besides”— his eyes flick to the left of the octagon, and I follow his gaze until I settle on my dad, flanked by two other men I’ve never met—“the syndicate High Kings came to watch the Ryan heir partake in her trials, and you fucking idiots thought a pawn was the right choice.”

What the fuck is he doing? Every ounce of training I’ve done has been in preparation for my fight with Hannah, and here he is, trying to change the opponent. Has he lost his fucking mind?

“The rules are simple.” Gabriel stalks across the canvas, closing the space between him and his son. “All initiates must fight against someone within equal size and or strength, regardless of age or stature, which is why Hannah was chosen. Now, get the fuck out of this octagon. This fight is going ahead, and that’s final.”

Rohan doesn’t back down, squaring up to his father. “Actually, you’re wrong.” Rohan’s gaze flicks towards my dad. “Lorcan, do me a solid and read rule twelve, section b, of the syndicate’s handbook.”

“What the hell are you doing?” The question flies from my mouth.

Behind me, my mother settles her hand against my lower back before whispering, “Trust him, honey. He knows what he’s doing.”

I clamp my mouth shut, brows furrowing with confusion. Too many times I’ve handed my trust to Rohan King, and every single time he’s broken it. He doesn’t deserve my trust, especially when all he does is shatter it to pieces every time he walks away, taking another fragment of my heart with him.

“I can’t.”

“Then trust me.” She murmurs for my ears only, “Every action has a consequence, and that boy will pay whatever price to ensure you’re safe. Even if it means losing you in the process.”

Before I can sift through the churning in my stomach, Lorcan’s deep brogue ripples through the air. “In the event of a new heir’s fight trial initiation, the above rule is null and void. The heir in question must defeat the strongest fighter within their age class, regardless of strength, weight, or gender, and prove their place among the hierarchy.”

Rohan flashes a smile at Gabriel. “But you already knew that because back when Éanna began her initiation, you invoked that rule so she would have to fight you, and yet, she still kicked your worthless arse.” He stalks closer, bringing his forehead to his father’s. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, you and your slut need to vacate the octagon. Mo bhanríon has a lot of pent-up aggression where I’m concerned, and I’m sure she’s dying to hand me my arse on a silver platter.”

Too fucking right I have aggression, but there is no way I can win against him.

Unless…

THIRTY-THREE

SAOIRSE

Above us the sky rages. Coated with black clouds, the thunderous pelt of rain drums against the MMA canvas, soaking us both to the bone. My eyes blaze with fury, matching Mother Nature’s mood. “For fuck’s sake, Rohan. Don’t just stand there. Fight back.”

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