Page 54 of Legacy Of Ashes
"Everything. Shipping manifests, guard rotations, family meeting locations." Conall's voice is granite. "Enough information to plan a hit on any of us."
The walls feel like they're closing in. I pour another glass of wine with shaking hands, trying to process the betrayal. O'Brien sat at our family table. His kids played with our cousins.
"How many others?" I whisper.
"We don't know yet. But Saoirse..." Conall moves toward me, his expression grim. "There's more."
"More?"
"O'Brien's been meeting with someone. Same person every time. We have photos."
He hands me a photo that makes my knees buckle. O'Brien shaking hands with Detective Morrison—the cop who's supposed to be on our payroll.
"Jesus Christ." I sink onto the couch. "Morrison's playing both sides?"
"Looks like it. Which means Petrov knows about our police contacts too."
The full scope of our exposure hits me like a physical blow. Our security is Swiss cheese. Our trusted people are selling us out. And now a Russian crime boss wants to marry me to keep from exploiting those weaknesses.
"We're fucked," I breathe.
Conall sits beside me, pulling me against his chest. "No. We're not."
"How can you say that? Our entire operation is compromised."
"Because we're still breathing. Because we found out before it was too late." His hands stroke my hair, grounding me. "And because you're brilliant, and we'll figure this out."
I want to believe him, but the weight of it all threatens to crush me. Every decision I make could get someone killed. Every person I trust could be another O'Brien.
"I can't do this," I whisper into his chest. "I'm not ready to lead. I don't know who to trust."
"You trust me." His voice is fierce, certain. "That's enough."
I pull back to look at him, seeing nothing but absolute conviction in his eyes. No doubt. No fear. Just unwavering faith in me.
"Is it? Is trusting one person enough to run an empire?"
"It is when that person would burn the world down to keep you safe." His thumb traces my cheek. "I love you, Saoirse. Whatever comes next, we face it together."
The words break something loose in my chest. I've been holding back, afraid to give him everything, afraid to need him too much. But sitting here surrounded by betrayal and threats, I realize he's the only solid thing in my world.
"I love you too," I whisper, and his entire face transforms.
He kisses me then, soft and reverent, like I'm something precious he can't quite believe he gets to hold. But I don't want reverent. I want fire. I want to forget about O'Brien and Morrison and Petrov's smug threats.
I bite his lower lip, hard enough to make him groan. His control snaps instantly. His hands fist in my hair, yanking my head back so he can claim my mouth. This kiss is desperate, hungry, full of all the fear and need we've been holding back.
"Need you," I gasp against his lips. "Need your cock inside me."
"Christ, Saoirse." His voice breaks on my name.
He's already working the zipper of my dress, his hands shaking with need. The black fabric pools around my feet as he lifts me, carrying me toward the bedroom. I wrap my legs around his waist, grinding my pussy against the hard length of him through his jeans.
"Off," I demand, tugging at his shirt. "I want to feel your skin."
He sets me down long enough to strip, and God, the sight of his cock makes my mouth water. Hard and thick and perfect. Mine.
"Fuck, look at you," he breathes, drinking in the sight of me in just my bra and panties. His eyes are dark with hunger. "So fucking beautiful."
