Page 13 of Vengeful Union

Who lets their daughter be hurt for so long? Hell, what kind of man can be the cause of their daughter’s pain? Everything I learn about this man just gets worse and worse.

“Your mom married me knowing exactly who I was. She wanted the prestige that came with being a Carter.”

Damn, he’s truly fucking deluded.

“Prestige?” I scoff. “James Carter was nothing without Jasmine Buchanan’s money. Tell me,Father, who financed your rise to the top?” I know everything. Absolutely everything there is to know about my father’s business. My father is the head of the Carter Syndicate, but my mom was the one who made it a success. She’s the one who paid the men, who got the product and then had it moving on the streets.

The men loved my mom. They liked how she treated them like they were normal people instead of monsters. They were loyal to her, but after she died, they soon forgot about her. They fall at my father’s feet, willing to do anything they can to show their loyalty. They’re also the men who do my father’s bidding, including being a part of bringing down Seamus Gallagher.

“You bitch,” he hisses, and thankfully releases my hair. But my relief is short-lived when his thick hand wraps around my throat. “You think your mom would have been able to build this empire I have?”

“Empire?” I wheeze. “What empire? You’re spending money like there’s no tomorrow. Hell,Father, where are the men?”

I know that I’m paying them. Have been since my mom died. I’ve got weekly payments going out. I’ve hidden the money my mom left me, and the house she left me is safe from him. He doesn’t have anything that belonged to my mother. I won’t allow him to sully her memory any longer.

Blood rushes to my head as his meaty fist tightens, and a ringing sounds in my ears.

“You dare,” he shouts. “You dare question me?” The redness in his cheeks tells me I got to him. I’ve infuriated him. He will not let this go.

Spots form in my vision as my body slowly sinks into the bed. I’m about to pass out, and I’m thankful for it. It’ll take away the pain.

“You’re nobody,” I whisper as the darkness calls for me.

He releases my throat, just as his other fist slams into my stomach, winding me. But there’s no pain. There’s nothing except sweet relief as I finally succumb to the abyss.

* * *

I’m wokenby my bedroom door splintering into tiny pieces. Night has fallen, and the only light comes from a small gap in my curtains. Pain radiates throughout my body as I struggle to sit up. I’m unsure where I hurt the most.

Glancing around, I find my father passed out on the floor—and a shadow moving further into my room. My heart pounds as the shadow moves closer to my bed. Fuck, someone’s here. But who?

“Christ, what a fucking useless prick,” a smooth, masculine voice says. It’s lilted, with an Irish accent. That can only mean one thing: the Gallagher’s are here.

The light is turned on, and I blink at the harsh glare. My eyes burning, I duck my head, burying it into my pillow, needing the respite from the brightness.

A swift intake of breath comes from the man, and it’s quickly followed by a loud thud and a grunt. “Get the fuck up,” he snarls.

“What—” my father stutters. “What the hell is going on?”

I turn to the man who’s entered our home and take a good look at him. He’s in his late twenties/ early thirties. His red hair is cut short, but it’s long enough for him to run his hands through, something he must do a lot, going by its tousled look. He’s built, not only in height but in muscle as well. There’s something about this man that’s familiar, yet I know I’ve never seen him before.

“Carter, you truly are a piece of shit,” he growls, his Irish accent getting thicker.

“You—what the fuck are you doing in my home?” my father snarls as he gets to his feet and stands tall. My father is a little under six feet, and this man towers over him, making him look short and stumpy.

“You owe me money, James. Did you really think I’d let that slide?” the man hisses as he takes a step closer to my father. “You owe me fifteen million, Carter, and now it’s time to pay up.”

Fuck. He owes the Gallagher’s fifteen million. How the hell does anyone get into that sort of debt? God, he’s such an idiot.

“I don’t have the money,” he says through clenched teeth.

Mr. Gallagher’s laughter chills me to the bone.

“Well then,” he begins, kicking my father’s knees out from beneath him, forcing him to kneel before him. “How do you suggest this goes?”

Dad trembles slightly. If only what little of his men he has left could see him now. See the weakling who leads them. They’d laugh at him. How on earth a man like my father leads soldiers, is beyond me.

“Answer me,” Mr. Gallagher hisses at him.

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