Page 2 of Fix You

His threat had seemed to get through to my father. My “engagement party” had been unceremoniously canceled. My brothers seemed satisfied with my father’s change of heart, but I knew better. I knew as soon as they left for Boston, I’d be married in secret to Oisin.

As long as there was breath left in me, I wouldn’t let that happen.

So, I wouldn’t run away.

Instead, I would cease to exist.

All records of Maeve Kavanaugh would disappear. I would be reborn with a new identity.

But that rebirth meant a death–the death of the life I’d known.

Growing up as the only daughter of an Irish clan boss meant that I’d been spoiled and coddled by my mother and brothers. If anyone gave me grief, I’d always counted on my brothers to take care of them. Because of that, it was hard to imagine making it in the world alone without their help.

Besides my brothers, there was also the love and support of the most amazing mother anyone could ever hope for. She’d nursed me when I was sick, sang me to sleep, and made every birthday and holiday magical. She wasn’t just my mam—she was my best friend.

Part of me rationalized that my disappearance wouldn’t be forever. Just until my father died. Although he was only in his mid-sixties, the life he led as a clan leader had him staring down his mortality daily. He constantly found himself embroiled in conflicts with the Italians, Bratva, the Triad, and sometimes other Irish families.

Despite all of those, his greatest threat came from within through his own sons.

The day of my “engagement party” wasn’t the first time Callum had threatened to kill my father if he laid a hand on me. It wasn’t just Callum who would do anything to protect me. All my brothers would have given their lives for me. They’d willingly stepped between my father when he tried to hit or slap me. Over the years, they’d grown used to being the brunt of my father’s psychotically violent nature.

Deep down I knew they’d take care of my father so that I could come back to my family.

Glancing around the shadowy tomb, I once again shivered. I don’t know why I’d let Kellan convince me that the Kavanaugh crypt was the best place for me to hide out on my way out of town. With my ancestors’ coffins filling the walls around me, I couldn’t help feeling their judgment at what I was about to do. By refusing my father’s will, I was going against my family, andin the world of Irish clans, there was nothing more important than family.

At a sound behind me, I whirled around. “W-Whose t-there?”

Chuckling echoed around the crypt walls. “Just me, sis.”

A relieved breath whooshed out of my lungs as my youngest brother, Eamon, stepped into the dim torchlight. He wore his usual smirk—the one that made him look like Dare’s twin. All my brothers had my father’s dark hair and blue eyes, except for Kellan. He had a blonder version of Mam’s and my auburn hair. All three of us had the same greenish-gold eyes.

Eamon tugged the duffel bag off his shoulder and handed it to me. I glanced from the bag over to him. “Is this everything?”

He nodded. “Passport, credit cards, and cash.”

After unzipping the bag, I dug the passport out. In the darkness, I peered at the photograph of me emblazoned with my new name. I rolled my eyes at Eamon. “Marcella Donnelli?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

Motioning to my temporarily dyed hair, I replied, “When this washes out, no one is going to believe I’m Italian.”

“There’s redheads in Italy.”

“Not like here,” I countered.

Before Eamon could continue his argument, Kellan stepped into the light. Of the two of them, he was usually the voice of reason. “You’re Marcella Donnelli. Your family hails from Bellagio in Northern Italy, where red hair isn’t so rare.” Motioning to my face, he added, “Your Northern heritage also accounts for your pale skin as well as the fact your father married a Swiss woman.”

Cocking my brows in surprise, I asked, “You gave me a back story?”

“The start of one.” He winked at me. “The rest is up to you,Bella.”

“Italian is the worst of my languages,” I protested.

“That’s why I gave you a Swiss mother where you didn’t practice your languages as much.”

“You’ve thought of everything,” I murmured.

He gave me a tight smile. “Considering our enemies, Italy will be the last place they look for you.”

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