I stand near the tarp my men have laid on the fancy marble floor. "Bring them in," I command, my voice echoing across the room.
The double doors open. Keira enters first, resplendent in ivory, her blonde hair cascading down her back. Despite everything, my breath catches at the sight of her. She holds her head high, moving with the grace of a queen rather than a captive. She’s proven again and again that she won’t be broken. I admire that about her.
Behind her, my men drag Hampton and Lana Kean forward. They look diminished even in their expensive clothes and jewelry.
"On your knees," I order as they reach the center of the room.
Hampton resists until one of my men forces him down. Lana follows with less struggle, her eyes darting frantically around the room, perhaps searching for allies who no longer exist.
I step forward, power surging through me as I take my place before Boston's underworld elite. This is the moment I've dreamed of for ten years. Hampton Kean on his knees before me, witnessing the restoration of everything he tried to destroy.
Yet as I prepare to speak, an unexpected unease twists in my gut. Keira stands to the side, her expression unreadable, but I feel her eyes on me. Judging. Watching to see what kind of man I truly am.
With a single command, I could end the Keans right here. It would be justice by the old ways. Blood for blood. The families would understand. They might even expect it.
But as I draw breath to begin my speech, I'm caught between the man I've become and the man I once was. Between vengeance and something else I'm not ready to name.
I scan the faces of Boston's elite gathered before me. Every person in this room now understands the truth. The Ifrinn family has risen from the ashes stronger than ever.
"Today marks a new chapter in our city's history," I announce, my voice carrying to every corner of the ballroom. "The rightful order has been restored."
I gesture toward Keira, who stands tall despite everything. Her beauty is undeniable, even as she regards me with wary eyes.
"In an act of mercy that some might call undeserved, I've chosen to unite our families through marriage rather than eliminate the Kean bloodline entirely. My bride will bear the Ifrinn name, and through her, the sins of her family will be forgiven, though never forgotten."
The crowd murmurs, some nodding in approval at my magnanimity. Others look uncertain, perhaps wondering if I've gone soft. I can't have that.
"But before we proceed with our vows, there's another matter to address." I turn toward the side doors. "Bring them in."
My men drag forward two struggling figures. One is the man who attempted to kill me days ago. The other a co-conspirator ferreted out by Flint and Blaise. Their faces are bruised, their suits torn and bloodied. They’re forced to their knees on the tarp.
"These men thought they could preserve Hampton Kean's crumbling empire." I walk toward them slowly, savoring the fear in their eyes. "They believed loyalty to a fallen king would protect them. They were wrong."
I grab one by the hair, forcing him to look up at the assembled families.
"Let this be a lesson to anyone who considers betrayal." Anger pulses through me but I remind myself that this display isn't just about vengeance. It’s about establishing order. "The Ifrinn family rewards loyalty and punishes treachery. Always."
Hampton Kean's face has gone ashen as he watches his former soldiers kneel before me. Good. Let him see what his arrogance has wrought.
"These men will face judgment for their actions," I continue, releasing my grip. "As will anyone who stands against us."
I pull my gun and the room falls silent, tension crackling through the air like electricity before a storm.
"For your betrayal of the Ifrinn family, the sentence is death." I press the barrel against the first man's temple. I look at the crowd. “Is there anyone here who thinks this punishment is unjust?”
“Here, here to the Ifrinn return,” someone calls out.
The rest of the room nods or chants, “here, here.”
The gunshot cracks through the ballroom. The man crumples to the floor, blood pooling beneath him. A collective gasp ripples through the crowd, followed by tense silence.
My hand doesn't shake. My expression doesn't change. But inside, a storm rages. Grief for the boy I was before fire consumed our world, satisfaction that justice is finally being served, and something darker that feels like power.
This man's death won't bring my parents back. It won't erase a decade of exile and struggle. But it sends a message that will echo through Boston's underworld for years to come. The Ifrinn family has returned, and betrayal will not be tolerated.
I turn slightly, my eyes finding Keira. I expect to see disgust or horror on her face. Instead, I see something that cuts deeper. Pain. Not for the dead man at my feet, but pain for me. As if she's watching something precious die before her eyes.
Her gaze holds mine across the blood-spattered floor, and for a moment, I feel exposed. Like she can see past the monster I've become to the man I used to be. The man who loved her. The man who promised to take her away from all this.
