Page 181 of Jaded Soul (Kovalyov Bratva 3)

“The clan’s power has faded in recent years, Cillian,” Kian admits. “Brian Murtagh controls the entire city now. Which means the Kinahans are practically untouchable. Da still has his fair share of influence, but he’s in a precarious position.”

I frown and try to process that. The names he’s saying—Murtagh, Kinahan—are dusty from disuse. But it’s not hard to remember the nasty taste they leave on my tongue.

“Tensions are boiling over between the O’Sullivan clan and the Kinahans,” Kian continues. “And if it comes to an all-out war… I’m not sure we can win.”

I haven’t been part of the politics for thirteen years. And yet, one conversation is all it takes to find myself being drawn back in. As though I’d never left.

“I can’t do it alone, brother,” Kian says. “Come back to Dublin with me.”

I stare at him.

His eyes are blue, of course. A little darker than mine, but identical to Da’s.

But where Da’s eyes are cold and unfeeling, Kian’s have elements that are warm and inviting. He has all the best parts of Ma and all the best parts of Da.

Maybe he has the better parts of me, too.

“I’ll come back with you,” I say carefully, “on one condition.”

Kian raises his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Will you forgive me?” I ask. “For leaving without so much as a goodbye?”

It’s clear Kian isn’t expecting that. He holds my gaze for a moment.

Unreadable. Dark. Stormy.

And then a small smile spreads across his face.

“I’ll admit—I was pretty fucking pissed for a long time,” he says. “Then, when I got older, I got the whole story out of Ma.”

“And?”

“And I understood,” Kian says simply. “I would have done the same damn thing in your place.”

I smile. “Where’ve you been all my life?”

Kian laughs. “Back in Dublin, waiting for you,” he says, clapping me on the back.

We clank our beer mugs together and drink.

“I have a question,” Kian asks after we’ve had our fill.

“Fire away.”

“Do you still think about her?” he asks.

He doesn’t need to clarify who he’s talking about. I tense for a moment, and I have no doubt the reaction’s not lost on Kian.

“Yes,” I admit quietly.

“How much does this trip back to Dublin have to do with her?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What exactly are you asking?”

“I’m just saying,” Kian says with a casual shrug, “it was pretty easy convincing you to come back home.”

I laugh. “You’re too fucking smart for your own good.”

“I’ve had to be,” he replies, “to survive living alone with our control freak parents.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I breathe with a shudder.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“Finish drinking your beer, you little shit,” I reply. “You may be the future don, but I’m still your fucking big brother.”

Laughing, Kian shakes his head. “And I thought you were coming back because you missed me.”

Yeah. Definitely too fucking smart for his own good.

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