Tiernan
Present Day
I lean against the doorframe, my arms crossed against my chest as I stare at my baby sister packing up her luggage, filling to the very brim the carry-on and two large suitcases that are sprawled on top of her bed. Silently, I watch her store away not only her clothes, but also her most prized possessions. An ill feeling inside me whispers that those little knick-knacks won’t be enough to bring Iris any type of joy, much less soothe the ache of being ripped away from everything she’s ever known and into the belly of the beast.
Iris continues to sway her hips left to right to the beat of the song playing through her earphones, completely oblivious to my presence and my troubled thoughts. The whole scenario looks so horribly mundane to me. As if she’s just packing her stuff to go on one of her far away exotic vacations, with the promise she will return home once she’s had her fill of sangria and sandy beaches.
But nothing could be further from that delusion.
You wouldn’t know it by looking at her, but today will be the beginning of a life my sister never asked for. A life where she will have to venture out all on her own without the safety net of our family name, since by the end of the week, she will no longer be a Kelly—but a Volkov.
There is a pang in my chest at that realization. I have no other choice but to bury my reluctance at that ungodly thought deep down into the confines of my soul, so I don’t do the unfathomable and kidnap my sister, right here and now, and take her somewhere safe where Bratva hands can’t touch her. Not that I haven’t thought about doing such a thing innumerous times before. In fact, for the past ten years, I have thought of little else. Just the thought that Iris will have to fend off the three Volkov brothers every night from here on out brings bile to my throat.
“Are you going to just stand there all day, dheartháir ? Or are you going to help a girl out and shut this bag for me?” Iris exclaims, not lifting her gaze off the stubborn bag that refuses to be zipped up.
“I didn’t think you saw me standing here since you were too busy dancing up a storm.” I smile tauntingly, walking over to her to lend a helping hand.
“I see everything, deartháir mór, ” she retorts smugly. “Besides, you make it too easy for me. I could feel your scowl from across any room.”
“You make me sound like an old worried fart.”
“If the shoe fits,” she goads, playfully nudging her shoulder with mine.
“That’s funny. You’re funny,” I reply sarcastically, pulling on one of her wild, red curls.
“Well, you better get your fill now, big brother. In a few hours, you won’t have to suffer me making fun of you anymore.”
Fuck.
Why did she have to say that?
I turn to my side and place my hands on her shoulders, halting her from continuing on with her task just so I can take her in one last time. Iris’ emerald green eyes sparkle with mischief and so much life. It cripples my heart, wondering how long that gleam will last in the Volkov’s household.
“Tiernan, I’ve got a plane to catch. I don’t have time to stand here for you just to gawk at me,” she jokes.
“Let’s be serious for a moment. Conas atá tú ? Really? The truth now, Iris. How are you feeling with all of this?”
She sighs before shrugging my hands away and going back to stuffing her suitcases.
“We’ve had this talk a gazillion times, big brother. I’m fine. You shouldn’t worry about me.”
“Teach me how not to worry about my kid sister, and I won’t. You forget I used to change your diapers when you were yay high, deirfiúr bheag. ”
“Ew, gross.”
She laughs, hoping her playful demeanor will lighten the mood.
But it doesn’t.
All it does is remind me that the sound of her laughter will be another thing that I will miss.
“I’m serious, Iris. I will always worry. It’s my job to.”
“Not anymore. That will be Alexi’s job now.”
The mention of her soon-to-be husband irks me to no end. Instead of carving his face like I did to his neck all those years ago, I should have killed the bastard. That way Iris wouldn’t have to be subjected to becoming his fucking wife.
“Besides, Shay doesn’t worry, and he’s my brother, too,” she adds, unaware of how I just murdered her fiancé ten different ways in my mind.
“It’s different. You and Shay are too close in age for him to feel the way I do.”
“You mean like an obsessive, over-controlling Athair ? Sorry to burst your bubble, deartháir mór , but I already have a father, and he’s not one bit worried about me, just as long as this treaty goes to plan.”
“That’s not fair, Iris. Athair worries about you plenty.”
“Yeah, I know.” She lets out a long exhale, bowing her head so that her crimson curls can cover her face from my sight.
I pull her to face me again, the sliver of sadness so plainly swimming in her clear green meadows that it chisels away at me.
“You know that if he could, he would never willingly give you up. You’re his favorite leanbh. ”
“I know that, too. Did you come in here to remind me how much you all love me, is that it?”
“Do you need reminding?” I cock a brow.
“No, I don’t. So quit with the heavy talk, and help me close these damn fucking bags.”
I can’t help but laugh at her sass.
“You might want to temper that mouth of yours when you reach Vegas. I’m not sure how the Russians will feel about a woman who curses like a sailor.”
“Tough shit. I’m a Kelly, for fuck’s sake. It’s in my blood, so they better get used to it.”
“I’m positive that you’ll make sure that they do.”
With my apprehension subsided somewhat, I help her close her suitcases but leave the carry-on open.
“I have something for you.”
“More pearls of wisdom?” She rolls her eyes.
“No, nothing like that. A wedding gift. Since I won’t be able to be there on your big day, I thought I should give you my gift now.”
Without another word, I hand her the small package I had hidden away inside my jacket pocket. She doesn’t complain that it’s not gift-wrapped, or that it doesn’t have a pretty bow on it. That would be too girlish for Iris anyway. She’s never been one to like frilly things, especially since my baby sister has always been a tomboy at heart.
When she opens the box, her eyes shine in utter awe at the push dagger I had custom-made for her inside the blue velvet casing. I made sure to request that the blade be small enough for Iris to easily hide in her palm, but lethal enough that she can slice any throat with it. And the pièce de résistance , the Kelly family crest embossed on the handle. If there is ever an occasion that she feels the need to use it, I want her to remember the blood that runs through her veins to embolden her resolve.
Kellys never run from a fight.
We end them.
“It’s… it’s beautiful,” she whispers, true emotion coating each word.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I more than like it. I love it!” she exclaims with glee, wrapping her arms around my waist and placing her cheek against my chest.
I hold her tightly, inhaling her free-spirit essence and committing it to memory.
Who knows when will be the next time I even see her?
Or even be able to hold her in my arms like this?
When I hear a little sniffle, the fist that has had my heart squeezed into a pulp all morning gives another painful tug. Iris isn’t the type to cry or get emotional. She’s always made sure never to show such weakness, so to see her this vulnerable, she might as well have used the damn push dagger to cut into my heart and slice it into tiny pieces.
After a few seconds, she finally pulls away, her composure once again hardened steel. I lift her chin up so I can look her in the eyes once more.
“Do you remember everything I taught you?” I ask evenly.
She nods.
“Do you remember everything your teacher has taught you?”
Another nod.
“Good. Remember, Iris, you are strong. Stronger than any of those brutes that you’re about to encounter. But most importantly, you are clever. Lean into your gut. It will keep you safe.”
“You should be giving the Volkovs this advice. Not me.”
I grab her chin, more forcefully this time, to show her this isn’t a game.
“Don’t fuck around, Iris. Those assholes will eat you for breakfast if you let them.”
“You forget, big brother. I have a pretty big appetite, too,” she seethes, her razor sharp gaze never wavering from mine.
“Alexi and his brothers aren’t to be trifled with. They’re not like us. They are animals with no code of honor to speak of. If they want to break you, they will do everything in their power to do so. Don’t make it easy for them.”
She snaps her face away from my grip, her emerald eyes taking on a deeper shade, one that unsettles me.
“I’m a big girl, Tiernan.”
“That you are. Just don’t be a stupid girl.”
She snarls, her nostrils flaring in anger and resentment.
That’s another thing about Iris.
She’s too hot-tempered. Lord knows our parents tried their best to shake that trait out of her, but then again, she wouldn’t be a Kelly if she wasn’t easy to set off.
“Are you done with your little pep talk? I need to get ready for my flight.”
I swipe my hand over my face, hating that this is the last interaction I will have with her—the last memory she’ll have of me.
“Here, let me help,” I say instead of the apology she deserves to hear.
She might as well get used to men who don’t give a fuck about her feelings. If Iris is to survive in Vegas, she needs to start practicing the discipline of hiding her true emotions. Not that I’m worried she won’t be able to pull it off, since acting like we don’t give a fuck, when in reality our blood is boiling, is another family skill passed down through the generations. We can be hot one minute and cold the next. You never know what any of us Kellys are really thinking. We can be laughing and chugging Guinness with you one minute, only to slice you open the next. It keeps everyone on their toes. And frankly, I quite prefer it that way.
‘Always keep them guessing ,’ Athair is fond of saying.
And that is something each one of his children have been able to do.
All but one, that is.
I shrug that thought away and pick up my baby sister’s luggage.
“I’ll take this downstairs so I can give you a moment alone.”
“I don’t need one. I’m all set.”
My forehead wrinkles in disappointment that she doesn’t want to say goodbye to all the memories her room holds. But it wouldn’t be Iris if she didn’t pull the band-aid off in one quick yank.
She trails behind me as I walk down the stairs with her luggage in hand. I drop the bags in the foyer and head to the kitchen at the back of the house, knowing that our parents are undoubtedly drinking their morning tea there, just waiting to say their goodbyes to my sister before she leaves. Iris continues to keep to her mute form as she follows me down the long corridor. Knowing she’s pissed at me is eating me alive, but I also know it’s the only way she will heed the warning I gave her upstairs.
Yet, her silent treatment doesn’t sit well with me.
I know it’s normal for siblings to fight. I’ve had the occasional fistfight with Shay to prove it. But Iris has always been different. Maybe it’s the fact she’s the only girl in a house full of unruly men, or maybe it’s because she’s the baby of the family. Whatever the reason, I’ve never liked to see her upset. And I fucking hate that I’m the reason she feels that way now.
“There’s my a stór, ” our father exclaims the minute we enter the kitchen, getting up from his seat so he can hug his only daughter.
Iris’s foul mood instantly vanishes as she snuggles into our father’s embrace.
She would kill me if I ever said these words aloud, but Iris has always been a daddy’s girl. When she was younger, we could always find her glued to his hip, and in turn, Athair doted on her at every opportunity.
That all changed, of course, when the treaty was put in place.
Suddenly, we all became too busy to give her our undivided attention. Especially Athair and I. We were too caught up in trying to make sure all the families’ demands were set in place so that when the clock ran out ten years later, none of them would have reason to fall back on their promise.
And then when Patrick …
Well …
Things just grew worse for all of us after that.
I know it must have hurt Iris a great deal to be cast aside in such a fashion, to suddenly become a footnote in our grief, but she never once complained. Even right from the beginning when Athair sat her down and explained that her future would be sacrificed for the greater good, she didn’t bat an eye and accepted her fate willingly.
Like I said.
My sister is made of the purest steel.
If she had been born a man, then maybe Athair would have named her his true heir to our family empire.
And I would have followed her lead with the most loyal of hearts.
Still, I made sure that through the years, I prepared Iris for her true destiny. I taught her how to defend herself whenever I could, and when the time came that she wanted to be educated by a professional, I made sure to step back and let her control her own life. It’s the least I could have done, since I’m not sure if she’ll ever have free will again to make her own decisions once she’s made a Bratva bride.
“Is tú mo stóirín. Tá mo chroí istigh ionat, ” he whispers to her, our father’s blue eyes starting to glisten with unshed tears as he proclaims his love for his dearest and only daughter.
Athair reluctantly releases her from his hug, placing a tender kiss on her temple.
“I love you too, Athair ,” she croaks, her gaze falling to the floor to hide the desolation embedded in her eyes.
“That will be enough out of you two. I will not have tears in my kitchen. Shed what you will in a confessional to a priest like normal folk, and not where I cook,” our Máthair reprimands, drying her hands on a kitchen towel as she stares them both down.
“Aye, Saoirse is right. Apologies, dear daughter, for being such an emotional old fool. I just miss ye already, child. This house will not be the same without ye.”
“It sure will be quieter. My ears will finally have some peace from that racket you call music,” our mother adds with a teasing tone.
Iris steps away from our father, bridging the gap between her and our mother, with her hands on her hips.
“Aye, but you won’t have anyone helping you in this kitchen either. You’ll miss my racket then, won’t ye?”
“Maybe I will,” our mother retorts, her gaze—the same bright green color as Iris’—taking a softening glow. “Not that I’ll ever admit it to your face, girl. Who knows? Maybe I’ll ask Tiernan’s lass to help me out and take your place in the kitchen.”
Iris cackles at that statement.
“Thanks for the laugh, Máthair . I needed it.”
“I didn’t realize I made a joke,” our mother retorts with mirth in her tone.
“Oh dear, Saint Brigid.” Iris continues to chuckle. “No way will any Hernandez spend their time peeling potatoes for you, Ma . I heard they have servants for everything. Even to wipe their arses when they go to the toilet. Fat chance Tiernan’s fiancé even knows what a pot looks like.”
“Geez, girl. Must ye be so vulgar? I’m sure the lass can be of use. Even if it’s only to put some bloody plates on a table,” our mother retorts playfully.
“The only use she has is to bear Tiernan sons. Aside from that, I would rather not lay my eyes on her if I can help it.”
With that cold statement from our father, the temperature in the room declines to arctic levels, stealing any good disposition my mother and sister were trying to find under such trying circumstances. Iris’ brows pinch together at the center of her forehead, obviously bothered by his callous remark.
“She is not at fault for what happened to our family. Let it go, Athair . Otherwise, you are just going to make things more complicated for the rest of us that are trying their best to move on.”
I don’t agree with Iris, but I get where she’s coming from.
If each family puts blame on the women who are coming into our lives for the wrongdoings of the past, then we might as well not go through with the peace treaty since it’s bound to be a disaster anyway. Unfortunately, the forgiving sentiment is easier said than done. Old grudges are hard to overcome—especially in our world. I just pray that Alexi is of the same mindset as Iris and that he doesn’t hold what I’ve done to him in the past against my sister.
Athair doesn’t respond, going back to sit in his seat at the kitchen table and refreshing his cup of tea. He stares at his mug, spinning his teaspoon round and round, trapped in his perturbed thoughts and refusing to acquiesce to my sister’s way of thinking.
Not that I blame him.
These past years have not been kind to our father.
He’s suffered too many losses to count, and today he’s reminded that his losing streak can only truly come to an end by sacrificing yet another child. Only this time, the sacrificial lamb is his very favorite leanbh .
Iris anxiously looks up at me, silently urging me to be there for our father when she cannot. I offer her a clipped nod, her stiff shoulders instantly relaxing with the unvocalized promise.
“I hate to do this, but Iris really has to go. Her flight leaves in two hours,” I announce.
“Plenty of time for you and your sister to have a cup of tea with us and wait for Shay and Colin to come back from wherever they went off to so early this morning,” our mother interjects, walking over to her husband and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I swear those two boys refuse to sleep one night in their beds, and on the night they actually do, they are up at the crack of dawn to go see God knows who. I mean, how many single lasses can Boston have to keep them so entertained?”
Iris looks puzzled at me and then turns her attention to our parents once more.
“Máthair , we already said our goodbyes last night at the pub. Didn’t Tiernan tell you? Shay and Colin went to meet Alejandro Hernandez and his sister this morning.”
My mother’s eyes widen in shock. This time it’s my father who covers her hand with his to keep her docile—as much as Saoirse Kelly can be when she’s in a mood, anyway.
“I thought you said the Hernandez lass was only coming tomorrow, being it’s her wedding day and all?”
“You forget that Alejandro will also tie the knot this week. He wanted to make sure he was here to watch his sister walk down the aisle. And seeing as we still have to work out some pending issues, he thought it best that we have time to talk shop before the festivities.”
“Is that so? Hmm. Say what ye will about the Hernandez family, but at least Alejandro had the brotherly affection to make sure his sister was well taken care of.”
More like he wanted to make sure I say I do or he’d kill me on the spot.
I clear my throat instead of giving her a reply, since deep down I agree with mother. I should be the one to take Iris to Vegas and be there for her wedding day. Nothing would have given me more pleasure than to stare Alexi and his brothers in the eye and tell them if they fuck with Iris in any way, it would be the last thing they ever do—treaty or no treaty.
Unfortunately, a few months back, Iris came to me to ask that I not escort her to Vegas, since she wanted to do this on her own and was adamant that I stay back in Boston. To my bitter chagrin, I couldn’t find it in me to deny her this last request. This peace treaty has taken so much from her already, I’d give her whatever she asked of me, even if it goes against everything I stand for.
“No matter. I guess we will all have to live with the decisions you two make from here on out. I just have to hope that your father and I have given you both the skills and know-how to make good choices—even if we don’t agree with them. Now, sit down and have some tea with us. Let me enjoy my daughter and son one more time under this roof. Only St. Brigid knows when we’ll have this opportunity again.”
Both Iris and I do as we’re told, sending each other a knowing smirk as we take our respective seats. When Saoirse Kelly gets something in her head, there’s no point in arguing with her. But as the seconds pass, it dawns on me how true her words are. All we have now are these fleeting moments of a life that once was. After today, our reality will never be the same.
My sister will have to face her Bratva fate on her own.
And as the boss of the Irish mafia with a cartel princess as his wife, so will I.