Page 61 of Destructive Truths

“Keep her safe.”

“Always.” I acknowledge with a tip of my chin.

As I cross the dance floor, my father continues his introductions. “On Monday night, Miss Ryan defeated our reigning champion and my son, Rohan King, in her first initiation trial, making her the first Ryan heir to compete in the past nineteen years.”

Even from across the room, I can see her unease, but she doesn’t give him any satisfaction. With her shoulders locked, her spine straight, and her chin tipped up slightly, she holds her head high.

“Strength, respect, and loyalty are all qualities we look for in our future leaders. The trials our initiates face represent the core values of our organisation. But unlike most participants, Miss Ryan is a direct descendant of one of our founding families. Isn’t that right, Saoirse?”

As I reach the bottom step, she nods in agreement.

“Now, keeping with our age-old tradition, when a new heir initiates, they get first choice of who they want to have by their side for their final trial, while the rest of the initiates have to wait until they complete their second task.”

I bound up the steps, taking them two at a time, only to be halted by Oliver who stands guard on the top step. “A little eager wouldn’t you say, Rí?”

Peering past him, my gaze lands on Saoirse as she stands dumbfounded in the centre of the stage, completely unprepared for the next words to leave my father’s mouth.

“All eligible members who wish to offer Miss Ryan their hand in marriage, please join us on the stage.”

A few initiates from other sectors make their way towards the stage, and I reach for my gun, pointing it at the entrance to the stairway. “If any of you fuckin’ pricks take another step, I’ll blow your heads off.”

My outrage grabs the attention of everyone in the room, including Saoirse, who is now staring at me with wide eyes.

“Well, it seems my son doesn’t like to share,” he laughs into the microphone, and the room erupts, laughter rippling through the crowd. Bringing my gun to Oliver’s head, I raise a brow, silently telling him to get the fuck out of my way.

He raises his palms in surrender, then sidesteps, clearing a path. With every pace I take, my eyes stay on Saoirse, holding her gaze and reassuring her with a look that everything will be okay.

My feet eat up the distance, and before I know it, I am drawing her into my arms and burying my face into her neck. “I’ll explain, I promise,” I whisper for her ears only, “but I need you to trust me, okay?” Behind my back, her fingers tighten their hold on my jacket, and against my chest, I can feel the rapid thumping of her heart as it thrashes wildly against her rib cage. “Just remember, everything I do is to keep you safe, and whatever happens next, it doesn’t change a thing.” I hope she understands my message, and I won’t force her into anything she doesn’t want to do—beyond this proposal, nothing has to change. I’ll wait for her forever. “I love you, mo bhanríon.”

Loosening my hold, I drop to one knee before her. “Saoirse Ryan. You found me in the dark, and instead of dragging me into the light, you sat beside me so I wouldn’t be alone. Please, do me the honour of becoming my wife.”

THIRTY-SIX

SAOIRSE

Is this what an out-of-body experience feels like? It’s as though I am rooted in the moment, frozen in time, as the world and all its people refuse to stay still. All eyes are on me as hands spring together and mouths move, but I can’t hear any of it. I’m plummeting into silence so loud it deafens me.

Closing my eyes, I focus on the ebb and flow of my breath and how my chest and shoulders rise and fall as my heart kicks against my rib cage. My self-awareness increases until I can feel the blood flooding my veins and the explosion of anxiety that sends shards of panic throughout my entire being.

I peer around the ballroom again, losing myself in a sea of nameless faces. The sound trickles in, but it’s nothing more than a blended blur of white noise, accompanied by the thunderous booming of my heart.

Realisation follows, reminding me of where I am. Piece by piece, the puzzle fits together—Gabriel introducing me to the syndicate as the newest initiate, and then…

I replay Gabriel’s words, trying to make sense of them. “Now keeping with our age-old tradition… new heir… first choice of who they want… by their side for their final trial… All eligible members who wish to offer Miss Ryan their hand in marriage…”

Marriage—the last trial is marriage.

Strength.

Respect.

Loyalty.

The three foundations of any successful marriage.

Suddenly, all the talks with Beibhinn on how I’d eventually need to choose between Liam and Rohan make sense; or how Liam promised he’d never ask me to pick between them, then tonight he treated me as if it was our last goodbye. He thinks I didn’t notice, but I did. It was in his eyes as we swayed together on the dance floor. Him, whispering the lyrics of “Purple Rain,” implying he could never steal me from another as he held on tight like the world was ending around us.

He knew this day was coming.

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