Page 29 of His Possession

Maeve followed his lead, her eyes darting over the scene. Near the center of the space, someone had stacked crates like a fortress, creating a makeshift meeting area. Sabella was there,bound to a chair, her head drooping forward. Relief washed over Maeve as she saw her chest rise and fall. Alive, at least. But her relief was short-lived as she took in the rest of the room.

Kelleher’s men stood in strategic positions, guns in hand, their expressions cold and focused. The tension in the air was suffocating and held the promise of violence. Maeve’s panther stirred, a low growl rumbling in her mind. The predator in her didn’t want to submit, but she knew better than to let it take over. This wasn’t a fight she could win alone.

Tadhg motioned for her to stop, and she obeyed, her muscles coiled tight as she faced him. “Now,” he said, his tone almost casual, “where is Rory McMahon?”

Maeve held his gaze, refusing to let the flicker of fear show. “He’s close,” she said simply.

The truth hung between them like a blade. Rory wouldn’t let her face this alone. He was far closer than Kelleher could imagine, and when he came, he would bring hell with him. The thought steadied her, even as Tadhg’s expression darkened.

“You think he’ll save you?” Tadhg stepped closer, his presence looming. “Rory can’t protect you from what’s coming.”

Maeve’s eyes narrowed, the sharp edge of her temper cutting through her fear. “The O’Neill left Rory in Galway for a simple reason: Rory doesn’t fail.”

The sound of engines outside cut Tadhg’s laugh short. Maeve’s heart leapt as she recognized the rumble of SUVs pulling up, the precise movements of Rory’s team unmistakable. As if sharpened to a blade's edge, the warehouse tension increased with a palpable shift in the air.

Tadhg gestured sharply to his men, who raised their weapons, their stances stiffening. “Well, it seems your savior has arrived.”

The doors burst open, and Rory strode in, flanked by his men. He moved with the quiet, controlled power that turnedheads, his presence commanding the space without effort. His dark eyes locked on Maeve instantly, a fierce, protective heat blazing in their depths. She could feel the intensity of his focus, the unspoken promise in his gaze.

He would burn this place to the ground for her.

“Let her go, Tadhg,” Rory said, his voice low and lethal.

Tadhg stepped forward, his grin sharp as a blade. “Ah, Rory. You’re always so dramatic. We were just having a chat. No need for all this… hostility.”

“I have little time for your games,” Rory replied coldly. “Release Sabella, and maybe you’ll walk out of here.”

Tadhg’s laugh was harsh, grating against Maeve’s already frayed nerves. “Walk out? With what’s coming, Rory, no one walks away clean.”

As more figures emerged, the tension in the room ratcheted up. Recognizing them, Maeve felt a sudden sinking feeling in her stomach. Alexander’s men. Her brother stepped into view, his expression unreadable as he took in the standoff. His presence sent a ripple through the room, the alliances shifting and re-forming in real time.

“Alexander,” Rory said, his voice sharp. “What the hell is this?”

Alexander’s eyes flicked to Maeve, lingering on her before shifting back to Rory. “A balancing act,” he said simply. “Tadhg and I have… overlapping interests.”

Maeve’s pulse quickened as the pieces fell into place. Alexander wasn’t here to save her and he hadn’t shown up in Galway to mend the rift between them. Her mother’s warning had come too late. He was part of this, part of whatever deal her father had orchestrated.

“Overlapping interests?” Rory’s voice was razor-sharp. “If you’ve aligned yourself with him, Alexander, you’re signing your death warrant.”

Alexander shrugged, his calm demeanor infuriating. “And yet, here we all are.”

The room teetered on the edge of violence—the strain unbearable. Rory’s men shifted subtly, their movements imperceptible to anyone not looking for them. The Kellehers mirrored the action, their hands tightening on their weapons. Maeve’s breath caught as the first shot rang out, the deafening crack shattering the fragile standoff. It was as if hellfire erupted.

Rory moved like a predator unleashed, his presence an anchor in the cacophony of violence as he fought his way toward Maeve. Bullets flew, shouts and curses mingling with the sound of gunfire. Her instincts took over as she scrambled for cover, finding the crate closest to Sabella. Her heart pounded as the cacophony surrounded her, but her focus remained sharp.

Stay calm. Find Rory.

Through the haze of the fight, she spotted him, his movements lethal and precise as he tore through the opposition. His focus was unshakable, his determination a force of nature. Maeve felt a surge of fierce pride and something deeper, something primal, as she watched him.

He was coming for her.

Tadhg loomed suddenly, grabbing her arm and yanking her from behind the crate. “You’re coming with me,” he snarled, dragging her toward the back exit. Maeve twisted, her panther trying to surge to the surface as she fought against his grip.

Rory’s voice cut through the gunfire like a blade. “Maeve!”

She turned, her gaze locking with his as he closed the distance between them. Tadhg spun, pulling her in front of him as a shield, his gun pressing against her side.

“Stay back, McMahon,” Tadhg growled. “Unless you want her blood on your hands.”

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