Chapter 8
Cormac stepped into the master suite, his broad shoulders filling the doorframe. He moved with explosive, predatory speed, completely ignoring his aunt. He crossed the room in three massive strides, stepping directly between the two armed guards and Iona.
He didn't draw a weapon. He didn't need to. The sheer, overwhelming aura of violence radiating from his muscular frame forced the two guards to stumble backward, their hands instinctively dropping away from their holsters.
"Are you prepared to die for my aunt, gentlemen?" Cormac asked quietly, his voice dropping into a register that chilled the blood of everyone in the room.
The guards swallowed hard, looking toward Eleanor for guidance, but the matriarch remained silent, her sharp eyes locked on her nephew.
"Get out," Cormac commanded, never raising his voice.
The two men didn't hesitate. They practically sprinted out of the room, leaving Eleanor standing alone with her silver-tipped cane.
Cormac turned slowly to face his aunt. He kept his body positioned protectively in front of Iona, his tattooed hands resting casually at his sides, ready for violence.
"Is there a reason you are trespassing in my private quarters, Eleanor?" Cormac asked, his deep voice carrying a measured, icy calm.
"You are making a catastrophic mistake, Cormac," Eleanor spat, her composure cracking slightly. "You are fracturing this family over a maid. Gareth is your blood. He was merely trying to secure the ledgers because you have been distracted by her."
"Does blood excuse treason?" Cormac inquired, his perceptive eyes narrowing. "He humiliated me in public, attempted to strike me, and sent a thief into my sanctuary. He is a traitor."
"He is my son!" Eleanor yelled, striking her cane against the floor. "The council will not allow you to execute him! If you kill him, half the syndicates in the city will rise against you!"
"Do you believe I fear a war with old men who rely on their mothers to negotiate for them?" Cormac asked smoothly.
He took a slow step toward his aunt.
"Gareth is alive in the cellar," Cormac stated. "He will remain alive, on one condition. You will take him, and you will leave this city. If either of you ever sets foot within my territory again, I will personally hang him from the gates of this estate. Do we have an understanding?"
Eleanor stared at him, her face pale with fury and realization. She knew he meant every word. The era of her family's influence was over.
"You are destroying your legacy for nothing," Eleanor hissed, turning sharply on her heel.
"I am securing my legacy," Cormac replied to her retreating back.
The heavy doors clicked shut behind her, plunging the room back into silence. Cormac stood still for a long moment, the adrenaline slowly draining from his system. He turned back to Iona.
May you like
She was trembling, her expressive eyes wide with residual fear, but she hadn't retreated. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face into his chest.
"Are you unharmed?" Cormac asked softly, wrapping his powerful arms around her shoulders, holding her incredibly tight against him.
