Page 24 of The Thief
"People like us?"
"People who don't have much else to believe in."
She considers this, nodding slowly. "My dad used to say that blood was thicker than water."
"Smart man."
"He was. Stubborn as hell too."
"Runs in the family, from what I hear." That gets me almost a smile. Progress.
"What's Henry like?" she asks.
"Hard to say. I've only met him a few times. Old school Irish mob. He built everything from nothing and commands respect wherever he goes. Loves his family fiercely."
"And what does he want with me?"
"To know you're safe. To know Killian's daughter is looked after."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
Lie. I’m not sure what Henry wants. He wants her with him because she’s Killian’s flesh and blood, making her Henry’s. But beyond that, I have no idea what the old man wants or what plans he has.
But she'll figure out soon enough what his plans are. There’s no point poisoning the well before she's even met the man.
We're coming up on Dublin now. The city lights are in the distance, sprawling across the horizon like fallen stars. Home. Or what passes for it.
Funny how a place can feel like home and a prison at the same time. Dublin's given me everything—purpose, family, a reason to get up in the morning. But it's also trapped me in cycles of violence I can't seem to break.
"It's beautiful," Alastríona says, looking at the lights.
"Yeah. It is."
"You grew up here?"
"Partly. Spent most of my childhood on the streets before Jer found me."
"Jer?"
"Jerry Houlihan. My boss. The man who saved my life."
"Saved it how?"
"Jer pulled me out of a life that would've killed me before I turned twenty. He gave me purpose, training, and a family of sorts."
"Sounds like a good man."
"The best."
My phone rings. Stephen's name is on the screen.
"Yeah?"
"Freddie." His voice is flat, emotionless. Wrong. Stephen’s usually good at hiding things. But I know him too well. Something’s wrong. Too fucking wrong. "Where are you?"
"About an hour from Henry’s. Why?"
