Page 72 of Vengeful Union

Dad can’t know he has a rat in his midst, especially since it’s his own son.

“Do you want to help, Rory?” my father asks, and I quickly shake my head, forcing a smile.

“Honeymoon period, remember?”

He chuckles. “Fair enough.”

I stand there through the rest of the meeting, hearing all the details. By the time it’s finished, it’s nearly dawn.

Exhausted, I leave the office, and Duncan follows me.

“Wait up.”

“Don’t you have work to do?” I know I’m being kind of an ass, but this has all been a lot–killing Scott, this new attack.

He holds up his hands. “You’re in a mood. I just wanted to ask how married life is going.”

“It's going," I say tiredly.

He winces. “The Burke girl not coming around?”

“She’s coming around just fine.” I give him a small smile. “That’s not the problem.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

I look around, making sure that Paul and my father aren’t within earshot. The office door is shut, and they’re still inside, so I lower my voice.

“I killed a man last night. One of ours.”

Duncan’s eyes widen so far his eyes might pop out of his head. “One of ours? Who? Why?”

“Scott somebody,” I mutter.

“Oh, the Scotsman.” He waves his hand dismissively. “He’s just a floater. Only in it for the money. What’d he do to piss you off?”

Anger rushes over me as I think about it. Even with how awful I feel about the killing, I don’t regret it.

“I walked in on him on top of Lara when she was first taken.”

“Shit. Good fucking riddance, then. Your Pa wouldn’t want that kind of man in our ranks.”

Wouldn’t he?

Scott’s voice telling me my father allowed his men to do whatever they wanted with “the goods” was still very fresh in my mind.

I wish I could tell Duncan the truth. I wish I could tell him that my father isn’t the man that he thinks he is.

My father has no code to speak of. The Burkes have always called him a snake, and I’m seeing more and more how right that nickname is.

I clear my throat. “I’ve just been feeling fucked up about it.”

That much, at least, is true.

Duncan claps me on the shoulder sympathetically. “The first one’s always the hardest, Rory. It gets easier.”

I don’t say it, but I don’t want it to get easier. I don’t ever want it to happen again.

And I can’t even think about the reason I did it, the rage that washed over my vision.

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