Page 81 of The Irish Redemption

Cian shifts his weight to his other leg and clears his throat.

Matteo is unfazed. “You dare accuse me of lying?”

“I know for a fact that you’re lying,” I snap. “You can’t fucking fool me. And I ain’t scared of you either, so you’ve got one chance to tell me where Evelyn and Noah are or the streets will run red with Italian blood.”

“Your threats are baseless,” Matteo says quietly. “You yap at my ankles like a young dog. Your brother had infinitely more respect.”

In a rage, I snatch up the nearest glass and throw it at the wall. It shatters into a thousand pieces that rain down like starlight while Hazel snatches up her shotgun with a grunt of warning.

“Don’t you dare speak about him,” I snarl. Every muscle is wound tight with rage, solid and swollen and ready to snap at the barest hint of release. “He was worth ten of you and you still had him killed.”

Matteo finally looks at me. “I have told you before, we had no hand in the death of Brenden. Just as we had no issue with you until now. Now, you attack my men in the streets and raid our drug houses. You think such actions won’t go answered?”

“My actions are the answer,” I snap angrily. “Your little rat Noah just didn’t know when to stop, and now he’s taken the one thing I will kill everyone to get back. You understand me?”

“Father…” Rocky suddenly steps forward, but he’s silenced by a raise of Matteo’s hand.

“Your proof?”

“My proof?” I snarl, lunging upward. Italian guards immediately move forward, hands on weapons ready to defend their Don. My own men do the same. “Evelyn was the proof of my brother’s murder, the only one who could identify the Italian fuck he was arguing with because she saw it. And then suddenly, he gets his hands on her, and I can prove that with fucking CCTV, you Italian cunt. You’ve gone too far,you hear me? You took my brother from me, and God as my witness, I will burn your stinking empire to the ground for that, but I won’t let you take her too!”

Rage carries me forward as I storm out of the bar, seething with anger. I’m so furious I can barely breathe so when I climb into my car, I tear away from the sidewalk without waiting for any of my guards. My blood boils, and my hands sting hot with fury, searing into the steering wheel. I have no destination in mind and a city far too big to search by hand, but fuck it. I’ll do it.

I need her back.

I swore nothing would happen to her again, that I would protect her, and in that I’ve failed. I can’t even stomach imagining what Noah has done to her in the days he’s had her, but I swear I will make him pay tenfold.

I drive and drive until a text pings through on my phone, followed by several more. Forced to a stop at a red light, I glance at my phone to see messages from Cian, Saoirse and more, but one makes my heart stall in my chest.

It’s a text from Evelyn.

There are no words, just an address. It’s Noah. It’s got to be.

I slam on the accelerator, ignoring the red light, and spin the car around.

I’m going to make that fucker beg for a quick death.

“Noah!” I bellow his name as I descend old, dusty steps inside the abandoned theater he dragged me to. I’m under no illusions. This is definitely a trap, but I walk into it willingly for Evelyn. The stage ahead of me is dull and dusty with a few chairs and stage propsscattered and abandoned. Old lights dangle overhead and a few frayed ropes twist and sway from the tension they hold.

No one answers me.

I continue down the path and raise my arms. “Noah! Where the fuck are you, you little rat?”

Reaching the stage, I climb the steps two at a time. Still no answer. Despite the low light, several holes in the roof above give me enough light to scan my surroundings, but just as I turn in search of signs of life, Noah attacks from the shadows.

Something solid and heavy collides with the back of my skull, sending me crashing forward. I land hard on my hands and roll over in time to see Noah above me with a baseball bat in his hands.

With a cry of rage, he brings it down on me hard.

I roll out the way, and it splinters the wooden floor where my head just was. He lifts it again. I kick out one leg and hit him behind the knee. As he stumbles, I climb to my feet and punch him hard across the face.

He stumbles and swings the bat hard, catching me in my abdomen across my fresh stitches. Pain explodes through my gut like a gunshot, and I grunt heavily but push through it with a yell of my own.

My fist collides with his jaw, his bat hits my thigh, and then I tackle him down onto the floor.

We grapple like animals. I’m fueled by my rage, and he’s driven by insanity if his eyes are anything to go by. What he lacks in strength, he makes up for in how nimble he is.

Each time I punch him and pin him, he wriggles free and quickly realizes my gut is my weak spot. Blood warms my shirt as he kicks me hard, but I grab his leg and flip him over.

---