Page 3 of Conall's Reign

I had seen him angry before, but this felt different—primal and raw. It was as if I were watching a beast shed its human skin to reveal the monster within.

“You killed her,” I said, my voice trembling as the words spilled out, ignited by the fire of grief. “You killed her, and I’ll make sure you won’t hurt anyone ever again.”

He let out a cruel laugh that grated on my nerves. “What do you plan on doing about it? That bitch got what she deserved. You gonna kill me?” His hands waved at me mockingly as if I was just a pest to him.

Something had snapped within me. A surge of life coursed through me, igniting my vision as details sharpened—the coarse lines of the floorboards, the glimmer of a weapon on the counter, the rise of his fists. Everything around me narrowed into a singular focus.

In one swift motion, I grabbed the knife, feeling the cold steel bite into my hand as I raised it. My father’s eyes widened briefly, disbelief breaking through the fury. Then, I lunged. The knife sank deep into his neck. He cursed in pain and rage as he moved to protect himself, but I could see in those few seconds that he didn’t believe that I’d make a killing blow.

I pulled the knife out and plunged it in again and again. Four counts in … hold … and three counts out.

Satisfied, I looked at the body—the shell.

Its eyes stared at nothing.

I went to the sink to wash off the blood, lathering and scrubbing, rinsing, and lathering until I was satisfied. Then, I changed my clothes and went upstairs to get Cora. Maybe I should feel bad. Instead, I felt… satisfied that he was dead. I had wanted to wait until my plans were more fully formed, but I knew what to do. My brothers were waiting for me, and my sister was still in danger.

She slept burrowed beneath her blankets as though trying to hide from everything, her shoulders hunched against her nightmares. Cora was only four years old, her doll tucked under her chin, her long black hair spread across the pink blankets like a princess. Gathering her up, blankets and all, I lifted her from the bed and strode out the door.

“Con?” she asked. “Is it morning?”

“No, close your eyes. Don’t look,” I commanded, fully aware that she wouldn’t listen. Cora was like that, as stubborn as a mule. “Go back to sleep.”

Carrying her to the car, I tucked her in next to the boys, trying to ignore the anxiety crawling over my skin like pinpricks. What was I going to do with three kids? How was I supposed to keep them safe from the Irish Mob? If they came after me, I’d be in serious trouble.

“We saw Da go inside, but I knew you’d still come.” Paddy slid into the seat, glancing out the window to ensure the boogeyman wasn’t following us.

“Of course, I was coming. Buckle your seat belts,” I ordered, my voice trembling yet firm as I slid into the driver’s seat. My hands shook on the wheel as I started the car, the engine’s roar drowning out my fears. We sped down the long driveway, leaving the house behind.

?

After settling my siblings,I sat at the kitchen table of the rundown motel where we were staying that night, staring at the list I had made. Supplies to buy. Jobs to look for. Safe routes to take if we had to run again. The pen in my hand moved methodically, its scratching against the paper soothing in its predictability. I reviewed everything twice, then again, to ensure it was all in order.

Yet, despite the numerous plans I devised, the persistent gnawing fear remained. My father’s second-in-command, Gallagher, had always shown unwavering loyalty to him. If Gallagher found us, there would be no mercy for either me or my siblings.

I couldn’t fight this alone. My thoughts drifted to the unexpected allies I had gained the night of the blood oath: Maxim Volkov, stoic yet sharp-eyed; Ilias Anthakos, with his calculating smile; and Angelo Santelli, whose humor masked a ruthless edge. We had sworn loyalty that night, bound by shared necessity, but would they assist me now? Could they?

I picked up the pen again and wrote their names on a fresh page. Although reaching out to them was risky, it might be my only chance to protect my family. Even though we were all still essentially children, we each had our own weapons: knowledge, perception, and awareness. They could help me.

For now, however, I focused on the immediate task: ensuring the locks were secure, the windows covered, and my siblings safe. I checked each one twice, then three times, before finally allowing myself to sit down.

As I gazed at the stained walls and the children squeezed closely into the double beds of the inexpensive room, everything felt heavy on my shoulders. The life we had known was lost, and the future seemed uncertain. But one thing was clear: I would do whatever it took to keep us together.

CHAPTER TWO

francesca

AGE 18

The bass thumped so hardit felt like my heart had shifted from my chest to my feet, syncing with the relentless beat of the music. Lights danced in kaleidoscopic patterns, bathing the room in neon pinks, electric blues, and vibrant greens. It was sensory overload, but in the best way—a whirlwind of sound and light that made you feel alive. I could barely hear myself think over the pulsing rhythm, but that was okay. Tonight was supposed to be about letting go.

Eighteen. Finally. My friends had been hyping up my birthday for weeks, and now that it had arrived, it felt surreal. Angelo—my older brother, protector, and mafia don—had outdone himself. He had closed his nightclub,Mirage, for the night, just for me and my friends. It was glamorous and wild, a far cry from the quiet family dinners I was accustomed to. Normally, I wasn’t allowed here — it was too dangerous, and I was too young. Tonight, it was nearly empty. The staff was limited to just a skeleton crew, and areas were cordoned off to restrict access for underage guests.

Angelo hugged me tightly and kissed my cheek before leaving me with my friends. “Ti amo, sorellina. Have a good time.”

“I love you too,fratello.”

He’d sauntered off to join the men he had invited for the evening, his small circle of trusted friends. They sat off to the side in their dark, tailored suits, drinking expensive liquor and plotting world domination, looking like something out of an action movie screencasting set.

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