Page 30 of Lorcan

Tears fell down my cheeks as Mateo stood at my door while I got my things. On the way down to the car, I felt him soften a little as he helped me into the car and took my things to put them in the back. He sat next to me and for the first time since I met him, I felt him protecting me.

He knew I was doing this for the greater good, and he respected that.

He was a good man, with a lot on his shoulders, and I could respect that. I’d been there too.

But now, I had to face my fears in order to save the man I knew I already loved.

Lorcan, I’m comin’ baby.

Chapter Eight

Lorcan

Icouldsmellthesweat and blood from the bag over my head. How fucking hard was it to wash your fucking bags for your next victim?

I don’t know when, but at some point I’d been drugged, unlatched from the bed and pulled into a new room. It smelled different in here, much like the dungeon Conor kept at the docks. It was full of water, sweat, blood and steel. I could only imagine I was in their torture chamber, my arms were pulled tight on either side. It felt like metal cuffs around my wrists, my back was bare, my skin was pimpled with goosebumps in the cold air. I was on my knees and I could feel that the ground was hard underneath me, most likely cement. Pain rocked through my body at the unusual position.

They were trying to wear me down, but they had to know I was harder than this and more stubborn than a mule.

I steeled myself, straightening my back and keeping myself as tall as I could. The squeak of a rusty hinge of the door sounded from my left and I listened as their footsteps came toward me. There were more than two, maybe three.

“Comfortable there, lad?” I heard the deep Corkish accent that I knew belonged to Adrian Moriarty.

“Not bad,” I grunted. “Why not take the chains off and we can talk man to man.”

A loud barrel of a laugh came out of him. “You know, I never met you boys before, but I have to say you ain’t got a dime on your old man. Shame what happened to him, isn’t it?”

Anger swirled at the mention of my father but I remained silent.

“You see, we don’t really have any need for you,” he continued. “But we do know you’re the strongest brother, the one who has kept that family alive. The longer you stay away, your brothers will come for you. They will desert Galway, your estate, everything you hold dear and that is when we’ll take over.”

They don’t know about the Onyx members coming for my seat either. Shit. Was this two different groups coming for us?

How’d we get to be so lucky?

I could almost laugh if I weren’t in so much pain.

“He’s all yours, Ronan. Leave his face. I think Keeva would like him to still be pretty afterward.”

Revulsion piled inside of me at the mention of my betrayer’s name and the thought of her touching me like that again. Adrian left the room. Ronan stood there with one of his men who I didn’t know the name of.

“How the tide has changed, huh?”

He knelt down to look me in the eyes. He had a slight smirk on his face as his man walked behind me. I heard the telltale sound of a buckle being undone, the leather of a belt being pulled through pants.

I knew that sound all too well. My father would punish me by belting me. I knew the slap of a belt on my ass. There was no way in hell Finneas O’Farrell’s son broke over a fucking belting. I steeled myself for the oncoming hit. Ronan didn’t move, he wanted to see the pain in my eyes.

Psycho.

I didn’t look away. I’d show him just how little he could affect me.

The sound of the leather whooshing through the air told me of the pain coming but nothing would prepare me for the slap against my bare back. The leather, stiff and probably new, slapped across my lower back, forcing my hips forward involuntarily. I righted myself, keeping my eyes on Ronan. His smile was getting bigger.

“You think you’re so tough?” I bit out. “You need restraints to keep me down. You could never best me in a true fight.”

“That may be true,” he replied. “But I find this much more fun.”

“You can’t even strike me yourself?”

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