Page 39 of His Possession

“Why now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Alexander’s gaze met hers, a flicker of guilt and resolve in his eyes. “Because I couldn’t live with myself if I let him drag you back into his hell. But this entire plan of McMahon’s only works if the Boston families act. And given what I saw in that meeting, they will.”

Rory nodded. “They will because they know what happens if they don’t. Alexander is going to take your father down and dismantle his business.”

Maeve watched the interplay between them, the uneasy alliance forming before her eyes. Her brother’s betrayal of their father was a line that couldn’t be uncrossed, but it was also the lifeline they needed. The cost of it settled heavily on her, but she pushed the doubt aside.

“What happens now?” she asked, her gaze shifting to Rory.

He looked at her, his expression softening just enough for her to see the promise behind his words. “Now, we end this.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of planning and preparation. Alexander’s revelations solidified the Boston families’ newfound alliance with the O’Neill Syndicate, even though the families had been rattled. Maeve stayed by Rory’s side, her presence a steadying force as they navigated the volatile landscape of mob politics.

As dawn broke over the city, the first rays of sunlight filtered through the windows of the abbey. Normally, it was a peaceful place. They had survived another battle, but the war was far from over. They would face whatever came next, and they would do it as one.

Maeve leaned against the counter in the quiet kitchen, her fingers tracing the rim of a cooling cup of tea. The muted lighting cast shadows that seemed to dance across the room, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy of the past few days. The faint, rhythmic sounds of hammering and hushed commands reached her from upstairs—Rory’s men were augmenting their defenses, a stark contrast to the heavy, almost suffocating silence downstairs, where time seemed to stand still.

Her body ached with exhaustion, but her mind refused to rest. Images of Alexander’s haunted eyes swirled in her thoughts. Everything had changed, and yet the path ahead felt sharper, clearer. Their enemies were falling, one by one, but it wasn’t over.

The sound of steady footsteps pulled her from her thoughts. Rory entered the room, his presence like a force of nature that shifted the very air around her. He had unbuttoned his shirt at the collar and rolled up his sleeves, revealing grime-streaked forearms. The sight of him, battered but unbroken, sent a rush of heat and gratitude through her chest.

“You should be resting,” he said, his voice rough but warm as he crossed the room to her.

“I could say the same to you,” she replied softly, meeting his eyes. The aftermath that had carried them through the last few days still lingered, but so did something deeper, steadier.

He reached for her tea, lifting the cup from her hands and setting it on the counter. His touch lingered on her fingers, a wordless reassurance that cut through her swirling thoughts. “Rest can wait. I needed to see you.”

Maeve tilted her head, searching his face. Rory rarely allowed his vulnerability to show, but today, there was no armor between them. The raw honesty in his gaze made her breath catch.

“We made it,” she whispered, the words carrying more weight than she expected.

Rory nodded, his hands sliding to her hips as he drew her closer. “We did.”

Her lips parted as she started to say something, but Rory silenced her with a kiss. It was slow, deliberate, as though he were grounding himself in her. Maeve melted into him, her hands finding their way to his chest as the warmth of his body chased away the lingering cold from the earlier events.

Rory’s grip tightened, his hands sliding to her back as he lifted her onto the counter. The cool surface pressed against her thighs, but the heat between them burned away everything else. His lips claimed hers again, this time fiercer, hungrier, as though he needed to feel her, to remind himself she was real.

Maeve met his passion with her own, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer. Their movements were a clash of urgency and reverence, each touch a declaration of survival and desire. Rory’s hands found the hem of her shirt, his fingers skimming her skin as he pulled it over her head.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. His gaze roamed her body, dark and intense, as though he were memorizing every inch of her.

Maeve’s cheeks flushed, but the fire in his eyes banished her self-consciousness. She reached for him, unbuttoning his shirt with shaking fingers, her breath hitching as she revealed thehard lines of his chest. His body was a testament to strength and resilience, each scar telling a story she wanted to learn.

Rory’s mouth found her neck, his teeth grazing her skin as his hands explored her curves. Maeve arched into him, her body responding instinctively to his touch. He made her feel powerful and vulnerable all at once, a heady mix that left her trembling.

“Rory,” she gasped as his lips traveled lower, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

He paused, his eyes meeting hers as he cupped her face. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

Maeve’s heart swelled, the truth of his words sinking into her very soul. “I’m yours.”.

The words seemed to unleash something in him. Rory lifted her from the counter, carrying her to the couch in the small sitting room off the kitchen. Their clothes fell away in a blur of motion, their bodies tangling in a fierce, unrelenting rhythm.

Maeve lost herself in him, in the way he made her feel alive and whole. His touch was both demanding and tender, his movements deliberate as he drove her closer to the edge. She cried out his name as the tension between them snapped, her body arching against his as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

Rory followed moments later, his release a raw, primal sound that sent a shiver through her. He collapsed against her, his weight grounding her as their breathing slowly returned to normal.

They lay there for a long time, tangled together in the quiet aftermath. Rory’s fingers traced idle patterns on her skin, his touch soothing in its simplicity. Maeve rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as the world outside faded away.

---