Thy Kingdom Come

“Houl yer whisht,” I reply softly, not wanting to set off alarm bells. “That fucker, Aidan, has a tattoo on his wrist.”

Cian’s eyes widen. He understands the importance of that comment.

“Wise up!” Rory frantically utters, always the level thinker of us three. “I thought ya said nice and quick? This is not either of those things. With yer temper, Punky, this will end badly.”

And he’s right.

I just never thought I’d find myself in a situation such as this. I didn’t know what I expected to find coming here, but I need to know why the Doyles’ pub address was locked away in my da’s drawer.

Just as I’m about to exit the pub, Erin grabs my arm. I refrain from recoiling, but only just.

“Where ya going with my brother?” she asks, eyes darting to the doorway where Liam has stopped to talk to some bird.

“Oh, Liam is your brother?” I ask, playing dumb.

“Aye, and he’s someone ya don’t want to be messin’ with. Please, just go home.”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks for the heads-up,” I reply, surprised that she seems genuine.

“Jaysus,” she mutters under her breath, reminding me why I’m here. “Mind yerself.”

Nodding, I don’t faff about and leave Erin behind as the boys and I follow Aidan and Liam around the corner. They walk casually, hinting nothing is wrong. We’re just a bunch of mates, out for a casual dander.

But whatever faces me, I know won’t be good.

When we turn down an alley, things become real. A big lad is waiting for us. Cian and Rory come to a sudden stop while I merely take a close look at him, wanting to know who he is.

“This is my brother, Hugh,” Liam reveals. The luck of the Irish seems to be true for me tonight because I’ve just met the three Doyle siblings.

I can see why Hugh has the reputation that he has. He’s built like a brick shithouse. The scar across his left cheek adds to his hard appearance. His eyes are dark. His head shaved.

“What’s up?” I casually say while Hugh snickers when he hears I’m “American.”

“Some neck on ya bringing this bleedin’ clown to me.”

This cunt has opted to use slang with the belief that I won’t understand him. But I understand him, all right.

Liam ignores Hugh and turns to me with a predatory smile. “Think ya can take him?”

I take a moment, pretending to size him up. I don’t want to appear too arrogant, but with confidence, I take off my glasses and unthread my tie, giving them to Cian for safekeeping. He looks at me, scared.

“That’s the way!” Liam exclaims, clapping wildly.

Hugh grins, before taking off his T-shirt. The dim lighting in the entryway allows me to see the many scars across his chest. This fucker is a hard nut.

“So, what’re the rules?” I ask, keeping my focus on Hugh who bounces on the spot, cracking his neck from side to side.

“Don’t die,” Liam replies with a laugh, before Hugh advances and throws the first punch.

Instantly, I dodge his attack and belt him in the ribs. A pained hiss leaves him, but he’s soon to recover and launches an onslaught of punches. He co

This is my dream come true—spilling Doyle blood.

We circle one another as Hugh suddenly realizes I can fight. His cocky attitude soon fades, and he focuses on wi

I don’t hesitate and pin him to the ground as I co

The back of Hugh’s head slams into the hard ground, and I know with a few more digs, he’ll go down for good. He desperately tries to fight me off, and when he grips my shirt in his fists, he soon gets the chance.

I don’t know why, but I take a juke at his wrist and what I see has me losing focus—a crucifix is tattooed on his left wrist.

How and why is this possible?

The moment of distraction allows Hugh to buck me off and switch positions so I’m the one now pi

Cian is swearing in French, which confirms this looks as bad as it feels.

“Had enough?” Hugh mocks, breaking my nose.

With blood gushing from my neb, I laugh manically. “Is that the best you got, motherfucker?”

Hugh roars, pi

It would be easier if I gave up as my head isn’t cut, and I know Hugh will kill me if I don’t submit. But suddenly, images of my mum, images of her being pressed into the carpet as some cunt rides her, slam into me, and I wheeze in air, desperate to breathe; just how she was.

I remember the way she extended her arm, her last desperate attempt to assure me everything would be all right.

I can’t let her down—not again.

I turn my cheek, seeing the tattoo on Hugh’s wrist as a clear fuck you, so with a new lease on life, I rear up and bite over it—hard. He presses the heel of his palm to my forehead, attempting to pry me off him, but I only bite down harder, tasting Doyle blood. It’s heaven on my tongue.

“Ye fucking cunt, get off me!” Hugh screams, the hand he used to lamp me, now frantically trying to free his wrist from my jaws.

I wrap my fingers around his wrist, holding him captive as I gnaw through skin and muscle. The bloodlust leaves me hungry for so much more. Only when I have a hunk of his flesh in my mouth do I release him, bringing up my knee to catch him with a nice ringsend uppercut.

His wheezes leave me lured, and I shove him off, coming to a quick stand. I spit out the lump of flesh in my bake. It lands at Liam’s Nikes with a wet plop.

Blood runs down my chin, and I slowly wipe it away with the back of my hand, never breaking eye contact with Liam. My chest is rising and falling quickly, my lungs desperately trying to catch up—I’ve never felt more alive.

Did I pass his wee test?

Hugh rolls around on the ground like a wee wain, and I curl my lip in disgust. His cries are music to my depraved soul. It takes all of my willpower not to kill this fucker, but not now. Things have only just begun.

Liam toes over the hunk of flesh before bursting into loud laughter. “Yer off yer nut!” he bellows, rushing over to me and slapping me on the back cheerfully.

“I just kicked the shit out of your brother, and you’re congratulating me?” I ask, bowed in half and clutching my side as I attempt to breathe.

“Aye, ya did what not many have done before. This is a cause for celebration.”

He offers me his hand, and as he does so, the cuff of his shirt rides up, allowing me to see that he, too, has the mark which suddenly doesn’t seem so rare.

A crucifix tattoo.

What? How is this possible?

It’s like one sprouted on Liam, seeing as I ripped into Hugh’s with my teeth.

My theory that Aidan took my ma’s life is now not so certain. It seems the Doyle men bear this mark, which means…any Doyle could be one of the three men I’m hunting. But first things first, I need to uncover the significance of this tattoo.

I thought it paid homage to their Catholic faith, but now, I believe it’s something else, and I will do anything to find out what that is.