She bit her lip, but curiosity won. Soon she disappeared into one of the side rooms with the maids, arms full of clothing and a faint flush warming her cheeks.
It was only then that I left, knowing that she would be busy for the time that I needed to meet with my brothers.
Roman’s mansion was quiet when I arrived, but I could feel the thrum of life within. The guards nodded me through without question. I found Roman in the sitting room, not as the feared Mafia Don, but as a man with his family. Layla was curled against him on the couch, their son in his arms. A tiny thing, impossibly small, his fist gripping Roman’s shirt like it was the only anchor in the world.
And Roman, my brother, my ruthless king, looked down at him with eyes softer than I’d ever seen. It caught me off guard, the thought hit me like a blade to the chest, what would it look like if Sorcha ever carried my child. If her belly swelled with life we’d made. If I held a son or daughter with her dark fire in their eyes.
“Lucien,” Roman’s voice broke through my thoughts, dragging me back. He rose, handing the boy carefully to Layla, before striding toward me. Viking was already in the room, boots up on the table, and Draugr leaned against the wall, arms folded, silent as ever.
“You’ve found her then,” Viking said, grinning, his sharp eyes glinting. “Your mate.”
The word hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.
I didn’t deny it. “Sorcha.”
Viking let out a low whistle. “Didn’t waste any time, did you? Roman broods for centuries before he finds Layla, and you stroll into an Irish shithole and walk out with yours.” He smirked at Roman. “Guess you’re not the golden boy anymore, brother.”
Roman’s eyes cut toward him, sharp enough to make most men fold, but Viking only leaned back in his chair, smug.
Draugr’s mouth curved faintly, the closest thing to a laugh I’d ever seen him allow. “Next thing you know, Volken will find his, and then you’ll really be old news, Roman.”
Roman’s jaw ticked. “Careful,” he growled, though there was no real venom in it. “Might just be you next.”
“True,” Viking shot back, eyes glittering. “But hopefully not too soon as it makes you whipped. Just ask Layla.”
Roman’s growl deepened, and Volken chuckled a low, gravelly sound. “She has you wrapped, brother. Admit it.”
Roman didn’t answer, just reached for the glass at his side like the conversation wasn’t worth acknowledging. But the muscle in his jaw gave him away.
Viking leaned toward me next, grin sharp. “So, Lucien what’s it like, finally caught in the trap you swore you’d never walk into?”
I met his stare, unflinching. “It’s not a trap when you want the chains.”
That shut him up for half a heartbeat, then he barked out a laugh. “Hell, you’re worse than Roman. At least he pretended he had control for a while.”
Roman gave him a look that could’ve stripped flesh from bone, but I ignored them both, but inside, the claim burned through me like iron. Sorcha was mine. No teasing, no jabs could touch that.
“What are you boys whispering about?” Roman stiffened instantly. The rest of us turned to see Layla leaning over the side of the couch, arms crossed, her lips tugged into a knowing smile.
Viking sat up straighter, grinning like a wolf. “Just talking about how your man here is completely whipped.”
Layla’s brows rose, and then she let out a laugh. “Completely? Try utterly. He won’t even let me reach for a glass of water without hovering over me like I might collapse.”
Roman’s glare snapped to her. “Layla.”
“What?” she asked, mock-innocent. “It’s true. You’re bossy, overprotective, and very, very controlling. But…” She stood up laying the baby in his pram, she then turned and walked upbehind him, sliding her arms around his waist from behind, her chin resting lightly on his back. “you’re mine. So, I put up with it.”
The brothers erupted, Viking laughing loud enough to shake the windows, Volken with another rare chuckle, Draugr’s mouth twitching in the faintest ghost of a smile.
Roman closed his eyes briefly, like he was summoning patience from some endless abyss. “You encourage them,” he muttered to Layla.
She kissed the top of his head, grinning. “Of course I do.”
Viking slapped the table. “I love her. She’s the only one who can make Roman sweat.”
“I’ll make you sweat if you don’t shut up,” Roman snapped, but the threat only made the room laugh harder.
I leaned back, watching it all, the sharp banter, the rare warmth. And for the first time in a long time, I felt it… family. Not just the one we were born into, sharpened by blood and war, but something stronger, something unshakable. Mates. Layla at Roman’s side, softening edges none of us thought could ever bend. The bond was real, alive, undeniable. And now, with Sorcha, I had my piece of it too.
