Page 42 of Destructive Truths

Then Liam says the last thing I’d ever expect. “As much as I hate to admit it, you’re wrong. Her heart lies with both of us.”

I lean back and tilt my head to the side. “Prove it.”

TWENTY-FIVE

SAOIRSE

It’s mornings like these when I wish I could stomach the taste of coffee. I’m exhausted, running on a few hours of broken sleep, and I could really use the caffeine boost.

After the heavy conversation I had with Liam last night, I stupidly told him I wanted to be left alone so I could settle my thoughts, and I immediately regretted my decision, but I powered through, resisting the urge to text him and ask if he’d come back.Logically, I know it would be so easy to lose myself in him and the comfort he gives, but I have to learn how to do this without him holding my hand.

Then there’s Rohan. Like it or not, he got under my skin with that fucking song he sang, and I’ve been having a hard time deciphering the emotions he draws out of me so effortlessly. I want to hate him, really I do, but the way he’d looked at me as though I tore his soul out makes me believe there’s more to the story.

Sending Liam home was the right choice. I needed time to process everything that’s going on—Donnacha, how I feel about the trials, and finally, the day I’ve been dreading… my eighteenth birthday.Most teenagers live for the day they officially become a legal adult. But for me, today marks the day my life is no longer my own.

Today I start my journey to becoming a syndicate member. And although my trials don’t start for another four days, I can’t help but overthink all the shit I still don’t know yet.

Beibhinn has been great, assuring me that once I pass the first round, the syndicate board will bring me up to speed, but that means sharing a table with Gabriel King. The thought alone makes my stomach coil into knots and my skin crawl with disgust. But no matter how much I want to run from it all, I won’t. I need to prove myself—for me, for my mam, and for the murdered uncle I never met.

I won’t let Gabriel scare me away from what’s rightfully mine. If he wants Killybegs and the rest of the Leinster Syndicate, he’ll have to pry it from my cold dead hands, because now that I’m finally of age, I’m ready to take back what belongs to my family, even if it nearly kills me.

Entering the kitchen, I flick on the overhead lights and make my way towards the kettle to make myself a cup of tea. It’s still dark outside, so I peer up at the clock on the wall next to the patio doors and check the time—five after four. Beibhinn won’t be awake for at least another hour—if her gentle snores are anything to go by—giving me time to sit with my thoughts before she drags me out for another gruelling cardio session.

Waiting for the kettle to boil, I see a shadow pass the window above the sink. I shake my head, pushing away the sinking feeling in my gut.

It’s just your imagination. No one is out there.

I pause for a second and the kettle clicks off, instantly flooding the room with silence. Staying still, I strain my ears, hoping I’m exaggerating. I hate to admit it, but I’m still nervous after everything that happened last weekend, and unfortunately, every creak this old house sends me into a state of panic.

Placing my hand on my chest, I try to steady my racing heart as I talk to myself off the ledge. It’s just the reflection of the forest, Saoirse. Nobody is breaking in. But when the door handle rattles, panic widens my eyes. Oh my God. Someone’s here.

Somehow, I reach forward and extract a large knife from the knife block sitting on the counter. Blood rushes to my ears, but I drop to my hunkers, shielding myself from sight behind the centre island.

The hinges release a small squeak when whoever is on the other side slowly eases the door open. I should run, scream, anything, but my body becomes petrified stone, unmoving.

My chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, but time slows as I await my fate.

Peering around the side of the cabinet, I steal a glance at the intruder. His hood is up, and there’s a half balaclava covering the bottom half of his face, making it hard to identify him. My eyes drop to the large box in his hand, which looks similar to the one my mother told me to take the night I ran, only far bigger.

Closing my eyes briefly, I inhale a strengthening breath, then jump out, knife at the ready. “Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing in my house?”

The box falls to the floor as the man turns to face me. “Go handy, doll. It’s me.” He reaches up and tugs down his mask. Lorcan’s face comes into view and a wave of calm washes over me. His eyes dart towards the weapon aimed at him, and a proud smile tugs at his mouth. “Sorry for frightenin’ yeh. I thought you’d be sleepin’.”

My head shakes slowly, and I lower the knife and place it on the countertop. “Why are you even here? When I left the cabins, you said it was best to keep our distance.”

“And I meant it. Hence my reasonin’ for showin’ up in the middle of the night when prying eyes are asleep.”

“Okay, but I still don’t understand why you’re here, especially when you presumed I’d be sleeping.”

Lorcan bends and plucks up the box he dropped, then closes the space between us. “I was droppin’ this off.” He places it on the countertop and gestures toward it with a swipe of his hand. “Happy Birthday, doll.”

“What is it?”

“Sit and open it. I’ll make the coffee.”

“Okay. But I’ll have tea. Coffee is the devil’s liquid.”

His laugh is gruff yet somehow soothing. “You’re your mother’s daughter.”

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