Page 52 of Conall's Reign

The roar of engines springing to life shattered the relative silence. I turned to Sean. “How’s the south pier?”

“Clear for now, but we have about ten minutes until the next patrol,” he said.

Paddy, finishing up with the dockworkers, strolled over. “This went more smoothly than I expected. Almost boring, really.”

“Don’t jinx it,” I muttered, rolling my shoulders once and then again until they settled comfortably. My gaze swept the perimeter.

As the final crate was loaded onto the waiting boats, Brody’s voice crackled through the earpiece. “We have movement near the main gate. Looks like reinforcements.”

“Time to go,” I said sharply. “Sean, cover our retreat. Paddy, you’re with me.”

We moved swiftly, the boats drifting away just as shouts erupted in the distance. I boarded the final boat, my pulse steady despite the chaos behind us.

Sean jumped in after me and tossed his weapon into the hold. “That was fun.”

“Define fun,” I mumbled, adjusting my sleeves as I leaned against the cool metal of the boat.

Paddy reclined on the bench, appearing far too relaxed. “I told you it would be fine. And hey, we have the guns, don’t we?”

I shook my head, feeling the adrenaline finally ebb. The mission had been successful, but the war was far from over. As the boat sped away, I allowed myself a moment of quiet triumph.

“Great job tonight,” I said, my voice rising above the sound of the water against the hull.

Sean smirked. “It always is when I’m involved.”

Paddy snorted. “Don’t let it go to your head, Sean. We all know I’m the real mastermind behind this operation.”

I sighed, rubbing the pad of my thumb against my forefinger. “God, help me.”

This marked our fifth successful smash-and-grab. Things were looking up. Old man Vallone must be seething.

?

The boat glidedthrough the water like a blade, while the docks receded into the distance behind us. The cargo was secure, and the team was in high spirits, but I couldn’t let my guard down yet. Success tonight meant one thing—retaliation tomorrow.

As we approached the rendezvous point, I ran a hand through my hair, smoothing the strands dampened by the sea air. My fingers lingered, ensuring that no strand was out of place. The compulsion tugged at me, but I forced my hand down, curling it into a fist against my thigh.

Maxim and Angelo were expecting me at Angelo’s club, a swanky, dimly lit venue in the Bronx where deals were forged and the music blared too loudly. Our club,Fortune, had been burned down, and until Angelo rebuilt it, we had to make do—which meant I had to endure the grating pulse of techno music that made my ears itch.

As we docked, Sean glanced at me and asked, “Are you sure you don’t want one of us to come with you?”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, stepping off the boat. If I needed security to go to Angelo’s club, then I was in trouble. My foot landed on the dock, and I adjusted the cuff of my jacket, ensuring both sleeves were perfectly even before I took another step. “You and Paddy take the shipment to the warehouse. Make sure no one has followed.”

Sean nodded, his usual cocky smirk replaced by a more serious expression. “Be careful. If Angelo is involved, things are bound to get messy.”

Sean wasn’t particularly fond of Francesca’s brother. In Sean’s view, Angelo usually fought first and strategized second.

“When aren’t they?” I replied, giving his shoulder a light slap before heading to the waiting car. As I slid into the backseat, I tapped my fingers against my thigh.

The drive to Angelo’s club was quick, and the streets were quieter than usual. The city never really slept, but this was the time when the underworld came alive. I stepped out of the car, adjusted my sleeves again, and took a measured breath before heading inside. The thrum of bass greeted me, a muffled heartbeat escaping through the club’s walls.

Miragewas an upscale venue where high-rollers mingled in tailored suits. Business was conducted in the private upstairs rooms. The bouncer at the door gave me a once-over before stepping aside, recognizing me immediately. I took a moment to straighten my tie, centering the knot just right before stepping in. The weight of unevenness clawed at me if I didn’t.

Inside, the air was thick with cigar smoke and rich cologne. Chandeliers cast a golden glow over the polished mahogany bar, where patrons sipped drinks that cost more than most people’s rent. Before approaching the rear staircase, I kept to the left as I walked.

Angelo’s men didn’t stop me, though their eyes followed my every move. I could feel it—like a smudge on my skin. I resisted the urge to smooth my sleeves again, count my steps, or double back to ensure the door had fully closed behind me. Focus.

When I entered the lounge, Maxim was already seated, his broad frame draped casually in a tailored suit. Angelo stood by the bar, pouring himself a drink with the air of someone who owned the world—or at least a piece of it.

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