Page 38 of His Possession

She guided him back onto the bed, her movements deliberate but unhurried. Rory let her take control, his body surrendering to the warmth of her touch, the solace she offered. Her hands explored him, her fingers brushing over the scars and the tension he carried like armor.

When their bodies joined, it was a slow, deliberate melding. Every movement was a promise, every whispered name a reminder of what they were fighting for. Rory held her close, his lips tracing the curve of her neck as they moved together, the outside world fading into nothingness.

Afterward, they lay tangled in the sheets, their breath mingling as they stared into the darkness. Maeve rested her head against his chest, her fingers idly tracing patterns along his skin.

“I’m not letting you go,” Rory said quietly, his voice filled with resolve.

Maeve tilted her head to look at him, her gaze steady. “Then don’t.”

The words echoed in his mind as he stared at Tadhg, the detonator still clutched in his hand. Rory’s grip tightened on the pistol at his side, his heart thundering as he prepared to make the call.

“Tadhg,” he said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “You want to hurt me? Fine. But not here. Not like this.”

Tadhg’s eyes narrowed, his knuckles whitening around the detonator. “Why not? Afraid I’ll take you with me?”

Rory’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Because I’m not the one you hate. It’s yourself, Tadhg. This is you giving up.”

The words struck home. Rory saw the flicker of doubt in Tadhg’s eyes, the rage wavering as the truth landed. It was the moment Rory needed.

The gunshot rang out, sharp and deafening. Rory fired the small gun in his pocket, ruining his trousers as the bullet struck Tadhg’s arm. The detonator fell to the floor as Tadhg let out a pained scream. Pandemonium erupted as Rory approached Tadhg and fired a single bullet into his brain. Relief coursed through Rory, as his men burst into the room, but it was short-lived. The battle was far from over, and Rory knew the war was only beginning.

CHAPTER 15

MAEVE

Rory’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression softening just enough for her to see the emotion beneath his control as he entered the room, but the moment was fleeting. He straightened, his hand reaching for hers before he turned to his men.

“We need to secure the area,” he said, his voice sharp and commanding. “Tadhg’s dead, but his men will regroup if we don’t act fast. Cormac—” He barked the name, and his second-in-command appeared from the shadows, his face grim but determined.

“We’ve got teams sweeping the perimeter,” Cormac reported. “I think it’s safe to assume that Kelleher senior and Michael O’Connell will know what Tadhg planned. The families are shaken, but they suffered no casualties on their end and are now safely on the private jet returning to Boston. Looks like Alexander’s making his move.”

Rory’s gaze flicked to Maeve, something unreadable passing through his eyes. “Stay with her,” he ordered Cormac before turning back toward the remnants of the main table.

“I don’t need babysitting,” Maeve protested, taking a step forward.

Rory’s expression darkened as he turned back to her. “You do now,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “This isn’t over, Maeve. Until it is, I’m not taking any chances.”

She opened her mouth to argue again, but the resolve in his gaze stopped her. Instead, she nodded, the tension between them an unspoken acknowledgment of the stakes. He was protecting her the only way he knew how.

As Rory strode away, his presence commanding even amid the chaos, Maeve turned to Cormac. “What did he mean about Alexander?”

Cormac’s expression shifted, a flicker of something close to respect crossing his face. “Your brother handed us the final nail in your father’s coffin.”

Maeve followed Cormac through the building, her mind racing with questions as they entered a smaller conference room. The atmosphere inside was taut, the air buzzing with a mixture of urgency and unease. Alexander stood near the center, a slim folder clutched in his hands.

His face was pale, but his posture was resolute. When he saw Maeve, something softened in his expression—an echo of the boy she’d grown up with, the brother who had once been her protector.

“Maeve,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

She nodded, her throat tight with emotion. “What is this, Alexander? What have you done?”

He glanced at the folder in his hands, his jaw tightening. “I did what I should have done a long time ago.”

Alexander stepped forward, placing the folder on the table between them. Rory entered the room then, his presence a silent force that drew every eye. He stood beside Maeve, his hand brushing her lower back, a grounding touch that steadied her as much as it unsettled her.

“This,” Alexander said, opening the folder, “is everything. All the evidence to prove what Cormac laid out for us at the abbey—every bribe, every payoff, every crime our father has covered up in the last decade. Bank statements, offshore accounts, names of officials on his payroll. It’s all here.”

The room was silent as the weight of his words settled over them. Maeve stared at the folder, her chest tightening as she realized the magnitude of what her brother had done.

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