Kieran

I am rage incarnate.

Boston is a filthy city. It’s not the place or even the low lives that lurk in the alleyways. I dare any of them to try to step up to me. I’m itching for a fight. The chip on my shoulder means that I will take on anyone – anyone who dares to get in my way.

To say that the city is unwelcoming would be an understatement. I shuffle through the back streets still damp from the rain earlier. I haven’t stopped moving in days. I’m living on nicotine and alcohol spiked with as much caffeine as I can get my hands on. It’s making me twitchy.

If my father wasn’t already in the grave, he would have died to know that I would ever think of turning to his brother for help. Hell, my old man would beat me senseless for even considering such a thing. Since that fiancée-stealing bastard killed my father, I don’t have anywhere else to turn. Mother fucker swooped in and closed all bank accounts and locked away all assets with a swiftness that I will begrudgingly admit is impressive.

Crisitano is going to be looking for me, wanting to finish off the job that he started.

I have to go somewhere with firepower, people to back me while I plan my revenge. Oh, and I do intend on having revenge.

My uncle Patrick runs a handful of warehouses outside of the business district, and I have it on very good authority that he’s there with my cousin Liam, who I haven’t seen since we were children. I have skills that will make me useful to him. Hopefully that and the fact that I have Doyle blood running in my veins will be enough to keep him from shooting me on sight.

I try to hide my shock when I arrive at Patrick’s main loading bay, and the old man is waiting for me outside. He’s leaned up against the side of the bay doors, wearing a sleet gray suit and smoking a very expensive smelling cigar.

“I wondered when you would drag your sorry ass here, boy,” he sneers.

It’s so strange to me that he sounds so much like my father, and yet they could not be more dissimilar. They have all the same familial traits in their bone structure, the same defined features that I reflect.

I don’t bother answering him. He doesn’t actually want an answer as I stand there, hands tucked into my pockets. I don’t have anything to bargain with other than myself. Though, given the scornful way that my uncle is staring at me, I don’t know if that’s going to be enough.

“You didn’t come to the funeral…” I say flatly. There’s no accusation in my voice. Of course he didn’t come. I couldn’t even have a proper ceremony for my father given how quickly I had had to leave. But my uncle could have at least attempted to reach out to me in some capacity or another.

“Why would I want to do that? My brother’s death is a happy occasion. He must have truly left you nothing for you to come crawling here to me.” Patrick sneers, ashing his cigar in my direction. “Just further proof of what a sorry bastard that he was. Couldn’t even leave funds to care for his son.”

There’s no point in explaining. He doesn’t want to hear it.

Behind him, the warehouse is bustling with activity. I have half a mind to just head inside and start working so that he has no choice but to accept me. I know how these things go. Patrick isn’t going to give me anything without making a pissing contest out of it.

My jaw tenses, but I wait for his terms and conditions.

“Very well, I guess you are family. But maybe I would like to see my brother’s son crawl for it… on his belly.” Patrick’s lip curls upward sinisterly.

He can’t be fucking serious. There are far better ways to humble me than this public humiliation. He wants to ensure that none of his men get any wrong ideas about me. He needs to knock me down so that everybody knows I’m nothing and nobody, certainly not a threat to Patrick.

If only he fucking knew how wrong that fucking statement was.

My lip curls, and I slowly, painfully start to sink to one knee. I have no choice. I am out of options. If I want my revenge, I need him. A little humiliation is worth my revenge.

My knee hits the asphalt and Patrick throws his head back in laughter.

“Get up, boy. You’ve proved your point.” He snaps at me like I’m a dog, and I rise. “You will have to prove your loyalty in plenty of other ways. I won’t keep you if you aren’t worth it. Unwavering loyalty, ruthless efficiency, and absolute discretion. That’s what’s demanded of my men. Can you comply, boy?”

If he calls me boy again, I might burn his eye out with that fucking cigar.

“Yes, uncle.” I answer, struggling to keep my voice neutral. “You’re aware of the skills that I have, you know that I will pull my weight.”

“Ah yes, your skills as a reaper… luckily for you, your reputation does precede you in that capacity.”

“Just like I know that you are in need of one.” I answer. I keep my spine straight, I’m taller than him.

Patrick gives me a very slow once over, and shrugs one shoulder. “It’s a title that means something, boy. I’ll give you a trial run. Nothing more, nothing less. If you don’t impress me, I’ll have you hung from the rafters.”

I can’t help but laugh humorlessly. “Failure isn’t an option, I get it.”

“My enemies are bountiful, boy, they will not show mercy.”

“Good.” I answer.

I will do anything and everything that I have to do in order to make sure that Cristiano pays for what he’s taken from me. I will not hold anything back. He will lose everything that he loves, if it’s the last thing that I ever do.

I know exactly where I’m going to start.

Patrick dismisses me, and as I head out of the warehouse back to the property, I unlock my phone to see the intel that I have ready. Ada’s face lights up my screen. Cristiano’s precious baby sister is going to be the key to everything. I’m going to hold the power, and his sister, breaking Cristiano in the most personal way possible.

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