Page 35 of The Heir's Defiance

I don't give him the reaction he wants. “I never asked her for anything.”

“But you took it anyway.” Callum is far more upset about this than his father seems to be, which tells me he's not been privy tothe orders Seamus gave Nora concerning me. He doesn't know she's a weapon yet, but I do. And when Seamus's eyes narrow on me, I know just how he plans to use her.

Ronan speaks then, calm and clinical. “If there’s a connection, it's coincidence, but I assure you, no O'Rourke man will ever lay a hand on her." His eyes slice through me, and I feel shame creep up, but it only lasts a second. I own her now. She's mine, not a Fitzpatrick anymore. I have no other words to defend my actions, but the gun on my hip burns and I want to use it.

Ronan looks away from me, and so does Seamus. Seamus adjusts the cuff of his jacket with deliberate calm, as if the conversation didn’t just shift onto a fault line. The air between us feels heavier than ever, the kind of pause that holds its shape like it might snap. No one speaks. No one moves. The tension just lingers, swollen and waiting.

The meeting ends in silence, without a single word of acknowledgment exchanged. There are no goodbyes, no forced smiles, and not even the pretense of a handshake. Just the cold, deliberate exit of men who know the next time they meet, it may not be across a table.

Callum walks out first with a smug strut to his stride. He knows what he planted. The seed has been sown, and now he gets to watch it bloom.

I stay seated. Ronan waits a full beat before turning to me.

His voice breaks the silence again, this time quieter but no less pointed. He stays standing at the far end of the table, arms crossed over his chest as he stares me down. “You should’ve told me.”

“I didn’t think it mattered.” I massage the bridge of my nose and wait for the lecture.

“It does.”

“She’s not part of this," I snap, but I know she is. She's more a part of this than even Ronan knows, but if I tell him what Seamus is asking from her, he'll tell me to kill her. Which is something I'll never do, and I'm not looking down the barrel of his gun so easily.

“She’s part of them, Connor." Ronan’s voice sharpens as he paces behind the chair, his boots scuffing hard against the rug. He slams his hand flat against the table, the sound cracking through the room. “Christ Almighty.”

“She’s not him.” I'm on my feet now, defensive, like a snake coiled and ready to strike. My orders were clear, but I can't follow them. I refuse to use her.

“She doesn’t have to be. This is optics. They think we’re compromised, and that’s enough.” He runs a hand through his hair and turns his back on me.

I let the weight of that settle before I speak again. “What do you want from me?” I want him to tell me something he knows I won't do, because I'm prepared to put my foot down and draw a line. I'm second in command in this family, and I think it's time he starts taking my opinion to heart when he makes his decisions.

“I want your loyalty.” He says it quietly, but with more weight than if he shouted it. Then he turns slowly and meets my gaze, and I wonder if he realizes that things between Nora and me are too deep now. If that's why he won't tell me to just kill her or cut her off.

“You have it," I say, and to a point, I mean it. I also mean that I won't buckle under his pressuring.

“I also need you alive…"

He leaves it hanging, but the silence that follows says more than the words could. He understands that if Callum knows about me and Nora, Seamus will use it as a weakness too. That may mean she's not the only one caught in the crosshairs.

After he sighs hard, he walks out without looking back.

I sit back down, staring at the edge of the folder Callum left behind.

Nora’s face floods my mind. Not the guarded version she wears for her family. The real one—the one only I’ve seen. I hear her voice in my head, so softly as she told me in fear,We have to survive this.

If her father sees her as bait and Ronan sees her as leverage, then I'm alone in the middle. And I am the one they’ll both hold accountable if the Russians move before either family is ready. It's clear they're already trying to tempt fate by impersonating us.

I pull out my phone. Her name is already there, top of the list. The thread is open, the last message unanswered. I don’t type anything, but I want to. I want to tell her to meet me, and I even think about hopping a plane to Zurich to get out of this mess, but that would be cowardice.

Eventually, I lock the screen and put it away. Then I push back my chair and walk out of the room like nothing happened.

But everything has. And the next time I see Callum Fitzpatrick, I will not be seated.

20

NORA

The hallway to my father’s study seems to narrow with every step. The thick wood panels box me in, portraits glaring from their frames with dark eyes. My grandfather, his brothers—men who may have built this legacy but only by ruining others. My footsteps make no sound on the runner as I stop just short of the door, and I don’t knock because he knows I’m coming. He ordered me to come down here.

Inside, Da stands at the window with his back to me. His shirt sleeves are rolled to the elbow, tie slack with his collar open and one hand gripping a lowball glass that has a few fingers of amber liquid in it. The room smells faintly of tobacco as if he just snuffed a cigar, and he glances over his shoulder like he has eyes in the back of his head and saw me approach.

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