Broken Vow (Brutal Birthright, #5)

by Sophie Lark

I think of Riona driving back to Chicago alone. I think of our walk through the birch trees. Before Bo interrupted us, I wanted to tell Riona that I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about her. That I think I’m falling in love with her. I almost...

“What’s wrong?” my mother asks me quietly. “I think . . . I might have made a mistake with Riona.” She looks at me with her clear blue eyes. Ellis had blue eyes, too. But I choose to think that my eyes came from my mother. My sense of humor and my cooking skills, too. From Waya, the desire to care for and protect the people I love. And the means to do it. He taught me to hunt, to shoot, and even to fight. He always sa...

“I promised you I was home for good this time.” She gives me a smile that crinkles up the corners of her pretty blue eyes. “I’m not worried. You’ll come back when the time is right.” I can tell she actually me...

“I need to go to the airport,” I tell the driver.

“Where’s your handsome bodyguard?” “At home in Tennessee.” “Ah,” he says, nodding and setting down his pen. “So you gave him his walking papers.” “I didn’t think I needed constant surveillance anymore. Since the Djinn is dead.”

“The hitman is dead?” he says. “That’s right.” “Are you sure?” “I watched him die. Then I buried him in a field. So yeah, I’d say he’s pretty fucking dead.”

“Always so blunt, Riona. So frank.” “You used to compliment me on my honesty when I was a child.” “That I did. Come . . . have a seat.”

“You took the purchase agreements off my desk. You put them in Josh’s office. But I went in and grabbed them again, and took them home with me. Of course, that wouldn’t have mattered if I’d drowned. That’s why it had to look like an accident—so no one would come looking for the killer or even wonder why I’d been killed.

“I’m assuming the Djinn took my phone so you could check my emails and calls. See if I’d tipped anyone off about the properties. You thought I already knew . . . but that’s the irony, Uncle Oran. I had no fucking clue. I hadn’t figured it out. You thought I kept taking those purchase agreements because I was already on to you . . . but that wasn’t it at all. I just wanted to impress you! I wanted the partnership.”

This man who was my friend and mentor, this man who I thought loved me like a daughter . . . he’s the one who tried to kill me. To save his own skin.

“You still needed those files gone, so you had the Djinn incinerate my apartment. You hoped that would get rid of me, too. Unfortunately for you, I had digital copies on my computer. Lucy sent them to me. I’m guessing you figured that out later because they’re gone now. All deleted.

“You knew there was another layer of protection, though—you had Josh sign all the documents. That’s why you were always passing all that work to him. Because you knew he wouldn’t notice the discrepancies. He was a decent lawyer, but a much bet...

“He was the perfect patsy. Everybody saw that he and I were enemies. We were rivals for the job, and we hated each other’s guts. It seemed believable that he’d hire someone to kill me. “But you knew if Dante and Cal got their hands on him, Josh would sin...

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “You had to get rid of him. So you sent him home early before Dante and Cal could show up here. Told them he’d been off sick all day. Then you drove out to the airport with him and forced the gun up under his chin. Or did you hire someone for that messy little job? I can’t imagine you getting blood and brain matter all over one of your suits.”

Oran’s lips twitch with distaste which makes me certain he did it himself. He’s older than Josh, but he had surprise on his side. Josh didn’t expect to be betrayed by Oran any more than I did.

“No,” I say. “You did it. You couldn’t risk some so-called hitman fucking up the job again. Once Josh was out of the way . . . I assume you wired some of the money into his accounts to make him look guilty. Not enough to put a serious dent in what you st...

“And I suppose you thought the Djinn would get rid of your last loose end in Tennessee. It would look like Josh never got a chance to call off the hit. All the evidence would be gone. I’d be gone. Josh would take the fall. And you’d . . . what exactly? What in the fuck did you even want that money for?” This is the one part where Oran can’t keep silent. His eyes narrow...

“How do you figure that?” Uncle Oran gets a fifty percent share of the profits of the law firm, a hefty amount of money. Double what the other partners get. “You get paid plenty for running this place.” “I shouldn’t be paid at all!” he cries. “A share in the law firm . . . I...

“You’re the bastard son,” I say coldly. I never cared about that, but I’m bitterly angry at Oran and I want to hurt him like he hurt me. “This empire is ten times the size it was under grandfather because of my dad. He’s the one who built it up to where it is today. You didn’t do...

“You’re going to shoot me? Right here in the office? You don’t have anybody else to blame it on this time. You kill me, and my father will hunt you down like a dog and cut the flesh off your bones an ounce at a time.” “I’m not going to kill you,” Oran sneers. “You’re going to kill yourself.”

He reaches into his desk and pulls out a bottle of pills. My stomach squirms as I read the label. It says, “Riona Griffin.” He got a prescription in my name. I tell him, “You’re not going to get away with the same trick twice.” “I don’t know about that . . . ” Oran says. “I don’t think anybody believes you’re happy, Riona. Not really. What do you have in your life besides work? Nothing.”

When he asks that question, for one wild moment my brain responds, Raylan. Until I remember that I don’t have him anymore. I only had him for a brief moment. Then I shoved him away. Oran pops the lid off the pill bottle and shoves it toward me. He brandishes the gu...

I don’t know what the pills are, but it doesn’t matter. I can puke them up after. For now, I have to pretend to cooperate. Or else he’ll just shoot me. Oran is hanging by a thread. I seriously underestimated my uncle’s desperation.

I came in here to confront him, thinking he was still the man I knew. I thought I could reason with him. At the very least, I thought he would recognize that it was over, he lost. I didn’t realize how much hatred was simmering below his skin. Hatred against my father . . . and against me. He never loved me. He never respected me. He used me when it was convenient. And when I got in his way, he tried to drown me like a rat. I trusted him. But he never deserved that trust.

Raylan did. I wish I could scream for him like I did outside the barn. I wish he could swoop in and save me. But he’s five hundred miles from here. I spent all damn day driving away from ...

“What now?” I say. “Now you write your suicide note.” “I need paper.” Oran rummages in his desk. He pulls out a sheet of thick, creamy parchment paper. Only the best for Uncle Oran. “What do you want me to write?” Oran tilts his head back, eyes closed, as he thinks about what it should say. I lift his gold-plated pen off its stand. “Dear family,” he begins. “I’m so sorry to do this to you. But I think it’s for the best. I’m in so much pain. I just can’t take it anymore . . . ”

“Sign it, Love, Riona,” Oran orders.

“Is that what you wanted?” I say, sitting back so he can examine the paper. Oran leans on the desk, bending over the page so he can read what I wrote. His eyes scan the page, angry color suffusing his face. “No!” he cries. “That’s not—” I grab the letter opener and stab it down onto the back of his hand. The tiny medieval sword goes all the way through his hand, pinning it to the desk.

Uncle Oran jumps on top of me, slamming me into the carpet with his full weight. He knocks the air out of my lungs so I’m gasping for breath, my head spinning worse than ever. Then he tries to drag me up again, pulling me away from the gun. Right at that moment, my hands close around something cold and hard. I grip the handle and curl my finger around the trigger. As Oran yanks me up, I swing the gun around and point it right at his face. He freezes, his hands locked on my shoulders.

“You wouldn’t shoot your uncle . . . ” he says, his yellowed teeth bared in a stiff rictus of a smile. “I absolutely would.” I pull the trigger, shooting him right between the eyes.

Oran’s limp hands release me, and he falls backward. I tumble back as well, unsteady on my feet. When I fall, the back of my head hits the carpet with a thud. I roll over, and the whole room rolls around me. I jam my fingers down my throat,...

I’m crawling and crawling, but not actually moving anywhere. My knees slide on the oriental rug. Oh my god, I think my idiot uncle is finally going to succeed in killing me when it won’t even help him anymore. I think I’m still crawling toward the phone, but my cheek is pressed against the carpet, so I can’t actually be moving. I feel cold. Very cold. I wish Raylan were holding me. There’s nothing warmer than his arms. Goddamnit. What a sad way to go. With so many regrets in my heart . . .

Suddenly, I feel myself float upward. I’m still freezing cold, but I’m pressed against something warm. I hear a steady thud against my ear. I open my eyes and see Raylan’s face. That’s impossible, so I know I must be dreaming. If this is my last dream, I’m going to enjoy it. Raylan’s strong arms lock around me, carrying me out of the office . . .

I’ve already called Dante. He calls Callum and Fergus. Fergus is the first to arrive at the hospital. He comes into Riona’s room, his face chalk white with fury. “Where is he?” “Oran?” I say. I’m mindful of the fact that whatever he may have done, Oran is still Fergus’s brother. “He’s back at the law office. But I’m sorry to tell you, sir—he’s dead.”

“He’s damned lucky, then,” Fergus says. He sits down next to Riona’s bed, stroking her hair back from her forehead. That red hair is the only color on her person at the moment. It looks more brilliant than ever against her pallor. I’m torn because I think Fergus might want to be alone with his daughter. But I don’t want to leave Riona’s side—not for an instant. Fergus can feel me standing behind him, my eyes fixed on Riona’s face. “You don’t have to leave,” he tells me. “It’s because of you she’s alive.” “I shouldn’t have let her drive back alone.”

Fergus lets out a small chuckle. “I doubt you had much choice about that. I know my daughter. She makes her own decisions.”

“Parents love all their children,” he tells me. “But not all children are equally able to accept love. I’ve tried to show Riona how much I value her. But I don’t think she’s ever understood how much she means to me.” He touches her hair again, gently, just like Imogen did in the kitchen. “I’m not blaming her,” he says. “I only wish I spoke her language better.”

I look at Fergus, and I think about my own father. I think about the day I discovered that Waya wasn’t related to me by blood. He was only my father by caring for me, teaching me, protecting me, and loving me. He was only my father in all the ways that mattered. I wasn’t able to accept his love in that moment. But I felt it every day since.

“She knows,” I say to Fergus. “Trust me, she knows.” Fergus nods slowly. “I hope you’re right.” After a moment, he adds, “I owe you a debt. Whatever we were payi...

“Yes, there is. Forgetting a debt doesn’t mean it’s paid.” He can see that I’m uncomfortable. That I don’t want to be rewarded for taking care of Riona. Not by him, anyway. Only Riona can give me what I actual...

“Can’t have the other lawyers finding him in morning,” Dante mutters to me. “Did you take the carpet out, too?” I say, remembering the bloodstain. “Of course. That’s how we carried the body out. Cal shut off the cameras and told Carl to take a smoke break.” “Where’s the body now?” “Buried on the South Shore property,” Cal says. “He can rot on the land he used to defraud us.”

Early in the morning, right as the sun is coming up, a slim, pretty girl with light-brown hair and a smattering of freckles comes into Riona’s room. I’ve never met her before, but I know immediately this is Riona’s little sister Nessa. The way she moves and stands gives her away as a dancer. Plus, she’s carrying a huge bouquet of peonies which I know are Riona’s favorite. “Oh!” Nessa cries, her green eyes filling with tears at the sight of the bruise on Riona’s cheek. “Dad said she wasn’t hurt . . . ” “She’s okay,” I tell her. “Just sleeping.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I just . . . Riona seems so invincible. It’s hard to see her like this.” “I know. She’ll be alright, though. I promise.”

“You’re her bodyguard,” she says. “Raylan?” “That’s right.” “I’m Nessa.” “I know,” I say. “Riona talks about you a lot.” “She does?” Nessa eyes are bright with pleasure. “Yeah,” I say. “A lot more than Callum. She barely likes him at all.” Nessa laughs. Her laugh is higher than Riona’s, but the cadence is the same.

“You’re funny,” she says. “That makes sense.” “What does?” “Riona pretends to be so serious. But she likes to laugh . . . you just kinda have to make her.” “I figured that out over time. She doesn’t like to do anything the easy way.” “Better not say that too loud,” Nessa smiles. “In case she can hear us.” “I ...

“Poor Riona,” she says. “She was so close to Uncle Oran . . . I can’t believe he would do that to her.” I think about what Fergus said. And I think what I’d like to do to Oran if he were still alive. Fergus is right. Oran got off easy with a clean shot between the eyes.

“I’m glad she has you here,” Nessa says. “You’re going to stay here with her?” Firmly, I say, “I’m not going anywhere.” “Good.” Nessa leans over and kisses Riona softly on the cheek. “Tell her I came to see her. I’ll come back again in the afternoon.” “I’ll tell her,” I promise.

“Don’t joke--I can’t laugh right now.” “I can’t help it,” I say. “I’d do anything to make you smile.”

“I can’t believe you came back here.” “I’d go anywhere for you, Riona. I’d do anything. I know I probably shouldn’t tell you that. You don’t like anything if it’s too easy. But it’s true—you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger.”

“I know what Long Shot means.” “Yeah? Well you were the longest shot I ever took. What do you think? Did I make it?” She tries to hold back her smile, but can’t. “I don’t know how you did it, but you hit the bullseye.”