Page 93 of His Dark Vendetta

Ciarán launched to his feet, upending his chair, face red with rage. “Lies!” He pointed at me across the table, his other hand balled into a fist at his side. “Keep my cousin’s name out of your filthy fucking mouth, or I’ll rip your goddamn tongue out!”

“Monsieur Shaughnessy!” Durand barked. “This is your final warning. If you cannot control yourself, I will have my men see you to the door.”

Ciarán seethed but dropped his pointed finger. He was having a hard time keeping himself under control, but my guess was he didn’t want to fuck up his invite to a seat at Durand’s table. No one wanted to lose access to a man who not only dealt in cards but information. His jaw worked, and he bent to right his overturned chair.

“Monsieur Moretti.” Durand’s voice returned to its normal timbre. “I appreciate the decorum you’ve maintained, but please refrain from provoking Monsieur Shaughnessy.” His gold eyes glinted with what looked a lot like amusement.

I plastered an innocent expression on my face and raised my hand in deference despite having zero intent to fold. The rising tide of my anger at Ciarán Shaughnessy’s self-righteous bullshit drove my hunger for vengeance to new heights. The son would pay for the sins of the father.

Ciarán stood behind his righted chair, but as he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, he mumbled something under his breath.

“What was that?” I bit out.

“I called you afucking liar.” He reached into his pocket and took out his cell.

I kept my face unmoving, a mask of indifference even as my insides jumped.

He stepped away from the table, showing us his back, and raised the phone to his ear with one hand, shoving the other in his pocket.

A shrill ringtone cut through the silence like shots fired.

Ciarán spun around, searching for the source.

I looked down, surprised and confused, and reached into my pocket where Siobhán’s phone screamed to be answered.

It rang again, and I held it up. “How’d that get in there?”

“Figlio di puttana,” Vito swore under his breath.

Ciarán’s eyes widened, and the color drained from his face. He held the phone to his ear as if desperate for someone to answer it. So I did.

“Must’ve picked up the wrong phone when I left the house,” I said into Siobhán’s phone while holding his horrified gaze.

Color returned to Ciarán’s face, and it flamed red with outrage. He dropped his phone and stormed across the room, coming at me with balled fists. “Where is she?” he shouted.

I launched from my chair and stepped back. I glanced at my watch. “Probably in bed by now.” I smirked. “Waiting for me to come home and?—”

Ciarán hauled off to punch me. I had half a mind to let him connect. It would give me an excuse to beat the ever-loving shit out of him. But this was a test, and I didn’t need Vinnie riding my ass. I needed revenge.

My guard went up in record time thanks to my work in Vito’s ring, and I blocked the punch.

“I swear to fucking God, Moretti, if you touch her, I’ll fucking kill you. Do you hear me? I’ll fucking kill you!”

A high-pitched whistle flew across the room. Durand’s bodyguards didn’t waste any time. Within seconds they materialized on either side of us. Ciarán dropped his arms to his sides, seething, but the low simmer of my hatred had sped to a rolling boil.

“How does it feel, Shaughnessy?” I asked, slow and menacing, my voice thick with spite. “How does it feel to have someone you love taken from you?” The pain I wanted Ciarán Shaughnessy to feel clawed its way out of my lungs with each venomous word. “How does it feel knowing I had more than her name in myfilthy fucking mouth?” I stepped forward, fighting the rage that threatened to turn my eyes. I glared down at him and lowered my voice. “That she belongs to me? That she’s mine?”

He swung at me. With my supernatural reflexes, I caught his right fist in my hand and squeezed, hard enough that he froze.

“And I’m going to remind you of that. Every. Fucking. Day.That’show I’m going to even the score. By torturing you with the knowledge that I took her from you. I took her from your family. And you willneverget her back. Blood for blood.”

He roared like an animal and swung a left cross. I threw up a block. He yanked his arm back and his right fist out of my grip, coming at me with feverish attempts to land a punch. “You fucking asshole! I’ll fucking kill you!”

Durand’s men grabbed Ciarán’s swinging arms. Which was a good thing, because my fangs descended, and I was a heartbeat away from fully turning and unleashing my own rage.

They pulled him off me, and I stepped back, hands raised, breath heavy in my nostrils as I focused every ounce of control on keeping my lips sealed around my fangs and my eyes from lighting up like a goddamn Christmas tree.

“Get him out of here,” Durand ordered.

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