I shook my head. “Never mind.”
I already knew the reason mine was different: My husband was an asshole.
“I’d leave it on if I were you. That boulder sends a clear message.”
“Yeah. That Rook thinks he owns me.”
“Be sure to correct him on that.” She paused, eyes narrowing on the ring again. “I’ve only ever seen a stone that size once before. Conor, the boss in Ireland, had one made for his wife. Except hers wasn’t called a protection ring. It was a war ring.”
“A war ring?” Sounded ominous.
“Aye. If another gang harms Erin, the Beasts won’t just retaliate. They’ll go to war until every one of the enemy is destroyed. Nothing but a row of tombstones.”
“Has that ever happened?”
“Once. The Hounds of Ulster planted a bomb in Erin’s car. It didn’t go off—shite wiring job—but Conor still had them wiped out. Even had their Wikipedia page scrubbed like they’d never existed. He’s quite the vindictive bastard when it comes to his wife.”
“So you’re telling me this knuckle-duster could trigger a Mafia apocalypse?” The weight on my finger suddenly felt heavier.
“Only if someone’s stupid enough to fuck around and find out.” She folded her arms. “Speaking of vindictive bastards, how’s my cousin treating you?”
I exhaled. “Well enough, I suppose. Rook might be the most frustrating person I’ve ever met.”
“Frustrating.” She arched a perfectly shaped brow. “That’s an interesting choice of words. Most people go with terrifying.”
“Trust me, I’ve got a whole thesaurus of unflattering adjectives, but I’m not scared of Rook.”
She studied me, a flicker of approval in her expression. “He thinks highly of you.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Finding out who had Niall murdered is the most important thing in his world right now, and he’s trusting you with it.” She moistened her red lips. “I know you don’t want to be here, and Rook’s methods are…unconventional. But Niall never earned the ending he was given. He was smart, kind, and too merciful for his own good. Not a brute like the rest of them. He was like a brother to Aidan and me. And knowing his death hasn’t been avenged, it’s digging up ghosts we thought we’d put to rest.”
Orla drifted toward my bookshelf. She ran a finger along the spines of each book until she found my battered copy ofI’ll Be Gone in the Darkand pulled it free to read the blurb.
“Rook and Niall were born in the same year. Did you know that?” she asked.
“Irish twins?”
“Aye.” She smiled faintly and returned the book to its home. “But we don’t call them that in Ireland. They grew up close. Joined at the hip. Did Rook tell you about his family?”
“I know he’s the only one left. We’ve only spoken about Niall, though.”
Orla sucked air through her teeth. “He won’t share this with you, but it’s important you know. When Rook was twelve, his da died in a car wreck on his way to watch Rook play in a football final. Three years later, when Rook was fifteen, he andNiall snuck out to the cinema. They were supposed to be watching their little sisters. With their da gone, my Aunt Diedre worked nights to make ends meet. There was a fire at the house. Molly and Maeve never made it out.”
Her words hit like a gut punch. I pictured Rook at fifteen, lanky and wild, sneaking out the way kids did, only to come home to smoke, sirens, and the knowledge that his sisters were gone because he hadn’t been there. My heart ached for him.
Orla drew in a deep breath, but she didn’t stop. “After that, Aunt Diedre was never the same. She’d lost her husband, her wee girls. All she had left were the boys. She tried to hold on, but grief’s a cruel bastard. She turned to the bottle and pain pills. By the time Rook was seventeen, she was gone, too.”
The room blurred for a moment as I blinked back the sting behind my eyes. Rook and Niall, two boys with no one left in the world but each other. And now, only Rook remained.
“That’s awful.” I shook my head. “He blames himself, doesn’t he?”
“Aye. Are you starting to understand him a little better?”
I nodded.
“Niall’s murder was the final straw. It changed Rook. Hardened him. Like whatever good he had left died with his brother.”