Page 118 of Chains of Recompense
Not that I can blame her. Every time I close my eyes, I can still see that knife coming within a foot of her jugular, and it makes my blood boil.
“What?” Callum growls, sitting up as tension snaps through the lines of his body.
“I handled it,” I say evenly. “But it confirms what we suspected. The Yakuza are feeling boxed in. They wouldn’t risk that kind of move otherwise, and they’re not happy about your new alliance with me.”
The Irishman’s hands curl into fists. “They dared to come after my daughter for it?”
“That surprises you?” I question. “The Tanakas proved to us a long time ago that women are fair game in their eyes. But they didn’t succeed, and they won’t get another chance.”
The room hums with agreement, and I can feel the bonds between our families strengthening, the alliance building momentum as our shared enemy gives us a singular purpose—and a looming deadline.
“They’re weak, desperate, starting to make careless mistakes. It’s time we meet with Miko to coordinate our final strike,” I say.
Callum gives a solemn nod, and sharp anticipation crackles beneath my skin.
But when I meet Aisling’s eyes, I see an undercurrent of worry I haven’t seen before. But I can read it like an open book.
Her eyes tell me that her passion for vengeance might not be so strong now that everyone she cares about is in the room—now that she knows what the Yakuza are capable of, what we’ll be up against. She would do anything for her family.
I know that.
And now, her efforts to support them might just be what gets them killed.
The Murrays don’t stay much longer, a renewed sense of purpose seeming to drive them silently toward the door, and as it closes behind them, the house feels quieter, yet somehow warmer than before.
“This is it,” Aisling murmurs, sensing the unspoken tension. “Isn’t it?”
I nod. “We will win this,” I promise.
Her azure eyes turn to me, wide and trusting, and it makes something clench inside me. But before we can say more, Riley is bouncing between us, ready to get this party started. And it takes no time at all before we’ve both been thoroughly roped into her magical world of fantasy.
The afternoon unfolds without urgency.
Riley insists on showing me every room she remembers, giving me a tour of my own home—and lighting up like a kid on Christmas every time she discovers a newly renovated room.
She asks a thousand questions—why the ceilings are so high, why Sandro has so many tattoos, why so many parts of the house aren’t in use.
Aisling watches it all with amusement dancing in her eyes. “She’s very observant,” she says after Riley asks me point-blank why I hardly ever smile.
“So I’ve noticed.”
Eventually, Riley drags me into a game that involves stuffed animals staging an elaborate heist. While Aisling is deemed her partner in crime, I’m assigned the role of getaway driver. Sandro wanders through, assesses the situation, and joins in without comment, voicing a bear with a suspicious accent.
For a few hours, the weight of reality lifts from my shoulders.
The looming Yakuza conflict recedes.
I forget, for a short while, how many people will be dead soon because of this fight—how many have already died because of me.
When evening comes, Riley insists on helping in the kitchen, mostly by taste-testing and narrating each step like a cooking show.
I lean against the counter, watching the staff move patiently around Aisling and the little girl, allowing them to be a part of the activity while they prepare the night’s meal.
There’s no doubt about it. Everyone whose life Riley touches is smitten with Aisling’s spirited little sister.
Dinner is loud and messy and perfect. Dessert ends in a food fight that culminates in riotous laughter, and when we’re done, Sandro, Evi, and I have to take showers while Aisling uses the guest bathroom to give Riley a bath.
Then it’s bedtime for Riley, and I linger in the hallway as Aisling tucks her in. The light is low, the air soft as she reads Riley a bedtime story, her voice warm and soothing.
