Page 9 of Forbidden Vengeance

Something dark and primitive rises in my chest. The desire to fly to New York and put a bullet between Anthony Calabrese’s eyes is almost overwhelming.

I know this was the plan—hell, I encouraged her to gather intel through whatever means necessary. But seeing the evidence, imagining his hands on her…

A knock at my door breaks through the red haze of my thoughts. “What?” I snarl.

Dante Moretti enters, managing to look both perfectly put together and casual in his Armani suit. My most trusted enforcer since my exile, he’s the only one who knows the full scope of my plans. He’s objectively handsome—all sharp angles and dark eyes—but I couldn’t care less about that right now.

“Your brother has increased security around the DeLuca compound,” Dante reports. “Isabella’s due date is getting closer.”

“How touching.” I shuffle the photos into a folder, but not before Dante catches a glimpse.

“The Calabrese heir seems quite taken with your asset,” he remarks wryly.

I shoot him a warning look. “What else?”

“Had to handle a situation with one of O’Connor’s men. Got too curious about our shipping operations through Boston Harbor.” Dante’s casual tone belies the implications. “He won’t be asking questions anymore.”

I nod approval, but my mind is still on the photos. On Elena in Anthony’s arms.

Another knock. This time it’s my lieutenant—one of O’Connor’s picks, which irritates me on principle. His presence is a constant reminder of my tenuous position here in Boston.

“The Irish want confirmation about the shipping routes,” he drones in that nasally voice I’ve grown to fucking hate.

“Get me the jet.” I’m already reaching for my coat. “Tell O’Connor I’ll handle it personally.”

My lieutenant splutters. “But Mr. O’Connor specifically requested?—”

“Get. Out.” I snap, and the glacial tone of my voice is enough to get the lieutenant to flee the room.

The private airfield is quiet at this hour, late fall wind whipping across the tarmac. My phone hasn’t stopped buzzingwith messages from O’Connor’s people, but they can fuck themselves. I have more pressing matters to handle.

As we reach cruising altitude, I start reviewing intelligence reports on my tablet. Something catches my eye—a pattern in Sean Murphy’s movements that I hadn’t noticed before.

Over the past three months, he’s been making regular trips between Boston and Singapore, always staying at hotels known for their discreet handling of cryptocurrency transactions.

The timing aligns perfectly with large transfers moving through shell companies I know Siobhan controls.

I pull up older reports, comparing them with what I already know about Siobhan’s attempts to modernize the O’Connor empire behind her father’s back.

Sean isn’t just managing her shadow accounts—he’s building an entire parallel operation. Digital banking, crypto transfers, legitimate tech companies that could launder millions without leaving a trace.

If Seamus ever discovered the full scope of what his daughter’s planning…

The implications are fascinating. Siobhan’s not just trying to modernize—she’s preparing for a complete takeover. Sean Murphy isn’t merely her trusted captain; he’s the architect of her future empire.

Which makes him either a valuable ally or a dangerous loose end.

“We’re beginning our descent into New York, sir,” the pilot’s voice breaks through my thoughts.

I know I’m playing with fire coming back to New York. Matteo’s warning was explicit: stay the fuck away or face consequences. But Elena’s games with Anthony Calabrese have pushed me past caring about my brother’s threats.

I look out the window as the familiar skyline comes into view. Something in my chest tightens at the sight. New York. My city. My home.

Not that fucking mausoleum in Boston where Seamus O’Connor plays at being king.

The lights of Manhattan glitter like scattered diamonds in the darkness. Each borough, each neighborhood holds memories—both the ones I cherish and the ones I’ve spent years trying to forget.

Somewhere down there, Elena is probably still with Anthony, playing her role perfectly while gathering intel that could destroy us all. The thought makes my hands clench.

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