Page 47 of Bloody Knuckles

Cormac lifts me down from the wall with surprising gentleness, carrying me through the house to a master bathroom. He sets me on my feet before turning on the shower.

"You're not as bad as they say,” I admit as steam rises between us.

He tests the water temperature. "Neither are you."

"What now?"

"Now?" He pulls me into the shower, the warm water soothing aches I didn't realize I had. "Now we get cleaned up, and see how to make this all work."

"We?" I sink deeper into scented water. "Are we allies now, Cormac?"

His powerful body envelops mine as he pulls me against his chest.

"We're not enemies," he answers, lips brushing my temple. "I don’t know what we are."

CHAPTER11

CORMAC

SACRIFICE & SURRENDER

My father's estate sprawls across ten acres of Dublin countryside, a monument to blood money and generations of Donovan rule. The security checkpoint recognizes my car—allows passage despite my four-year absence from this place. Some systems run too deep to be easily erased.

Beside me, Aoife stirs from uneasy sleep, the events at the dockyard still fresh hours later. The emergency meeting with her father has been set for tomorrow noon. Tonight belongs to another confrontation—one long overdue.

"Where are we?" she murmurs, straightening in the passenger seat.

"Donovan ancestral home." I navigate the winding driveway. "My father's domain."

Her posture changes immediately, tension radiating from her slender frame. "Your father? Why?"

"Unfinished business." The mansion looms ahead, gothic stone against darkening sky. "You were right about Seamus at Kilmainham. His challenge wasn't isolated. Nothing happens in Dublin's underworld without a reason."

"You think he orchestrated the power play?"

"I know it." Gravel crunches beneath tires as I park before the main entrance. "Just as I know his fingerprints are all over your brother's betrayal."

Two security men approach—old guard, loyal to the old man rather than his sons. They halt, recognition widening their stance.

"Mr. Donovan," the senior one acknowledges. "Your father isn't expecting you."

"He never does." I exit the vehicle, circling to open Aoife's door. "Yet somehow he's always prepared."

The guard's attention shifts to Aoife, understanding dawning. "Sir, protocol requires?—"

"Stand down, McPherson." I place my hand at the small of Aoife's back. "Miss Gallagher is under my protection."

"But sir?—"

"Call ahead if you must. We're going in regardless."

The massive oak doors open before we reach them. Seamus stands in the entryway, surprise quickly masked by fake hospitality.

"Nephew," he greets coldly. "And... guest. Your father will be?—"

"Save it." I guide Aoife past him. "He's in the study."

"This is unprecedented," Seamus protests, following. "Bringing a Gallagher into the family home?—"

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