Page 142 of Shadow Of Sin

He’s quiet for a while. Then he says, “You sound different when you talk about her.”

“Different how?”

“Like someone who figured out what matters.” He looks up, his eyes not stony like they normally are. When he looks at me, there’s something else flickering in the depths, something that looks like disappointment. Fuck me, Ronan does have a shred of humanity somewhere in there after all. “Dad never figured that out. He believed loyalty was about control instead of choice.” Another second passes. “I don’t want to make his mistakes.”

“Then don’t.”

He nods, stands up, and walks around the table. Then he puts his hand on my good shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “She’s family,” he says. “I’ll treat her that way.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

“Your shoulder still tight?” he asks.

“I got shot two months ago,” I say. “What do you think?”

“I think the medic gave you exercises that you’re not doing.”

“Cillian told you?” I roll my eyes. “Can’t keep that guy’s trap shut for shit.”

“It’s part of his charm,” Ronan says, the corner of his mouth twitching. A half-second later, his lips are back to their tight line. “Wolfe.”

“Yeah.”

“If she ever does anything to put this family at risk, I’m not going to look the other way.”

“She won’t.”

He holds my gaze and nods. Then he walks out of the room.

I sit at the table for another minute. The house is quiet. Not the old kind of quiet that felt like a held breath because Dad was on one of his ragers. It’s a comfortable quiet. I sit there for a few minutes, enjoying it.

A little while later, I get into my car and drive home. Eva is on the couch with her laptop and a glass of wine, her feet tucked under her.

“How’d it go?” she asks, looking up from the keyboard though her fingers never stop moving.

“Viktor is making noise. Dmitri is a bigger problem than we thought. And Ronan and I talked.”

She stops typing. “About me?”

“About us.”

“And?”

“He said you’re family.”

She holds my gaze for a beat. “That’s honestly terrifying.”

“Welcome to the Molloys.”

“God help me.” She goes back to her screen. “Sal texted. Fourteen times. Saturday’s menu is apparently a matter of life and death.”

I sit next to her on the couch. She shifts her legs across my lap without looking up. It’s automatic. Like her body already knows where it fits next to mine.

“He’s nervous about meeting your brothers,” she says. “Now that he knows who they really are.”

“My brothers should be nervous about meeting him.”

She shrugs. “Well, he’s going to interrogate every single one of them. And I’ve already been working on the seating arrangement. Gavin will sit at the far end because he’s the wildcard and needs to be contained. Cillian will be next to Sal because they’re the most likely to hit it off. Ronan sits where Ronan always sits, at the head.”