Page 21 of Bloody Knuckles

The warehouse interior stretches vast and empty, save for a single chair in the center where Finn sits, unbound. He rises as I approach, confusion on his face.

"Cormac? What's this about?" He gestures around the empty space. "Declan wouldn't explain anything."

I circle him slowly, measuring each step. "Tell me about Liam Gallagher."

His posture shifts subtly—the first sign of guilt. "What about him?"

"Your meetings. Three in the past month. The most recent on Tuesday at O'Malley's Pub."

A flash of panic crosses his face before his demeanor settles into neutal. "Business reconnaissance. Getting a feel for their operation since the escalation."

"Business reconnaissance," I repeat, voice deceptively soft. "Is that what we're calling treason now?"

"Treason? Cormac, what are you?—"

I strike without warning, fist connecting with his jaw. He stumbles backward, hand rising to his split lip.

"Don't. Lie. To. Me." Each word punctuated with cold hard pain. "We have a recording, Finn. Your voice, clear as day, selling our shipment schedules, and secrets to Liam fucking Gallagher."

The color drains from him. His shoulders slump as the pretense falls away.

"You wouldn't understand," he murmurs.

"Try me."

He straightens, finding a shred of dignity. "This war with the Gallaghers—it's destroying our business. You're so blinded by hatred for Patrick that you can't see the damage it's causing. I made a strategic business decision."

"To betray your family." The words taste like ash. “Without fucking talking to me first?”

"To save it!" His voice rises. "Patrick approached me three months ago with an offer. Limited information exchange to prevent all-out war. A controlled conflict that benefits both families."

I laugh, bitter and cold. "And you believed him? Patrick Gallagher would burn every Donovan alive given the chance."

"He offered us territory. A seat at the table when the city gets divided. More than you ever promised me."

The accusation hangs between us. Finn—always in my shadow. Always the protected one, never the protector. But he’s always coveted what was mine.

"You cost us three shipments," I say quietly. "Two men dead in the Connelly Street ambush. All because you felt that you weren't given enough power?"

He flinches. "The men weren't supposed to be killed. That was Liam's doing, not the plan."

"And what was the plan for Aoife Gallagher?" The question emerges sharper than intended. "Did you know I'd take her? Did you warn them?"

Confusion radiates from him. "That was your move, not mine. Patrick went ballistic when it happened. It wasn't part of our arrangement. And he may still kill me over it."

The warehouse door opens behind me. Declan enters with Aoife between him and Connor. Her hands cuffed in front of her, copper hair gleaming under harsh fluorescent lights. Her chin lifts in that defiant gesture I've come to expect, though she looks confused.

"What is this?" she demands.

"Education," I reply, not shifting my attention from Finn. "About family loyalty."

Recognition hits as she recognizes Finn. "Your brother?"

"My little traitor brother." I circle Finn again, each step deliberate. "Who sold our operations to your family. Who got our men killed chasing the promise of power."

Understanding transforms her. She assesses Finn with new interest. "So not Murphy after all."

"Murphy was a distraction," Finn says, addressing her directly. "A name I fed Cormac to divert his suspicions."

---