Page 20 of Desecrated Reign

Rohan sits beside me, kicking his feet up onto the table. “If you want to talk about misconduct, old man, why don’t we start with how you and Ollie, here”—he motions to Oliver with a wave of his hand—“arranged to have three syndicate heirs blown to pieces? Liam Devereux’s blood is on both your hands.”

“I don’t know that the fuck you’re talking about, son. We had nothing to do with Liam’s death.” Gabriel holds his poker face, giving away nothing. “And even if we did, you have no proof to back up your delusional allegations.”

Next to him, Oliver is looking a little less composed. He shuffles in his seat, pulling at his necktie as sweat beads on his brow line, shimmering in the dim lighting. “He’s right. You… you can't prove a thing.”

Sitting forward, I rest an elbow on the tabletop, then prop my chin on my hand. “Wanna know something about lies?” I pause for effect. “They always leave a trail to the truth.”

Then, twisting my neck towards Keelan, I jut my chin towards the iPad in his grasp. “Why don’t you show Gabriel and Oliver the trail they left.”

Keelan’s grin splits across his face, showcasing his pearly teeth behind his sinister grin. “With pleasure, cuz.”

Within a few seconds, Keelan pulls up video footage of Gabriel’s office and places it in the centre of the table so everyone can watch as Gabriel and Oliver implicate themselves.

The room falls silent as Oliver’s stressed-filled baritone bleeds from the iPad speaker. “He was my son, Gabriel.”

“Yes, and Rohan is mine, but I still authorised that bomb.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be in that car.”

“Oh, don’t pretend you didn’t fucking know this would happen. We always knew Liam would be wherever Saoirse was. He’s been following her around since the moment she stepped foot in Killybegs.”

“No, that bomb was meant for Saoirse. She was filling my boy’s head with all sorts of crazy ideas. He came to me, threatening to leave the syndicate for her. She needed to be removed from the equation before she poisoned my son any further.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it, Devereux. You knew the risk, we all did, and you chose to continue. You stood right next to me when I gave the go-ahead for the bomb, knowing your son would most likely be in that car when it went up. Liam was becoming a problem. You said it yourself.”

“It didn’t go as planned. They’re still alive while my son is in a fucking box six-feet underground.”

“Don’t worry, Rohan and Saoirse will be joining him soon. But as for your guilt, it has no place here. You had as much of a hand in your son’s death as I did. So, next time you want to point a finger, I suggest you stand in front of a mirror.”

Reaching across the table, I press pause on the video and draw my gaze up, locking eyes with both men. “I’d say I have all the proof I need to back up my… what did you call them? Oh yeah, my ‘delusional allegations.’”

Gabriel’s outrage is punctuated by the slap of his hand against the solid oak tabletop. “I am the king of the Leinster Syndicate. Your stupid video can’t touch me.” He narrows his gaze on me, surveying me with a filthy look.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” I meet him with one of my own. “You orchestrated the planting of a bomb to take out not only me, but the two guys who held enough power to help me remove your dirty, rotten, sadistic arse off my throne. ’Cause that was your goal here, right?” I uncross my legs and lean forward, pushing my presence in his face. “You publicly pressured your son into proposing to me in front of a room full of syndicate members, knowing that if something were to accidentally happen to us, you would use your position as Rohan’s father to remain the king. When you had that chess piece in place”—I hold up a finger, punctuating my point—“you blew up my other fucking boyfriend, thinking both me and your son would be in that car, too. But unfortunately for you, we weren’t. Do you know what that means, Gabriel?”

He sneers at me, rolling his eye as though he can’t be arsed with my presence. “Do enlighten me, little girl.”

“It means you need to take your rapist arse—yes, I know what you and your so-called friends did to my mother—off my throne. Your reign is done.”

“You’re nothing but an initiate, Saoirse. So whatever power you think you hold, it’s insignificant.”

Cocking my head to the side, I raise my hand and hold out my hand towards Rohan. Within seconds, he pulls a booklet from inside his suit jacket pocket and places it in my awaiting palm. “Do you know what this is?” I ask Gabriel as I peel open the pages.

“Of course,” he scoffs. “It’s the syndicate handbook.”

“Have you read it?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Saoirse. Of course, I have.”

“Well, so have I. Cover to cover until I knew every rule and requirement by heart.”

Flicking to the page I need, I lay the book on the table and point towards the highlighted passage, then I sit back in my seat and recite it word for word off the top of my head.

“Rule two, section c: No harm should be brought upon any syndicate member by another. This includes all syndicate heirs before or during their initiation process. Any member found breaching said rule will be removed from their position immediately and sentenced to a lifetime of silence.”

Turning my gaze towards Rohan, I ask, “What do you think the OG kings meant when they referred to a lifetime of silence?”

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