Page 31 of Malevolent Hearts

Suddenly, a throat clears, breaking the eye contact Beibhinn and I are lost in, and we both pull our gazes towards Beibhinn’s father. “If you read through your contracts, you’ll see this arrangement is purely transactional. After you’re married, Beibhinn is expected to deliver a male heir. Hate each other all you want, retreat to your own sides of the manor for all I care. Your one and only condition is to carry on the Connelly name.”

“Furthermore,” my father interrupts before Beibhinn or I can respond, “keep feelings out of it. Emotions blur lines. You may hate each other now, but the more time you spend together the easier it will be to grow accustomed to each other’s company. Love is a weakness, and my kingdom doesn’t allow for that. Until you’re married this remains platonic. And after, it’s to be kept professional. There shall be no intimacy of any kind before your wedding day or you will be at risk of breaching your contract resulting in the termination of your engagement. Understood?”

I should protest. Staying away from Beibhinn for the next two years is not an option. Not after we’ve spent the last few weeks getting to know one another. Unbeknownst to our fathers, there are feelings already involved. From the corner of my eye, I steal a glance at the girl next to me. She’s sitting poised, shoulders back with a determined glare. Her grip on my hand tightens before she tips her chin and squares her shoulders, showcasing the fire that burns within her soul. “We’ll follow your rules.”

My father bites down on his molars, clenching the muscles of his jaw before gritting out. “Don’t become a problem, Ms Devereux, and I won’t need to apply a solution. As long as you remember this is still my kingdom, I will protect my son’s future wife. But there are conditions… I make the rules, and you’ll follow them blindly.”

Beibhinn’s smirk reaches her devious eyes. “You’re right. This kingdom is yours, and I’ll respect your leadership as long as you reign.”

I hear what my father doesn’t. Beibhinn will play ball as long as she needs to, but once we take over, the rules will change.

My father nods. “Good. My son deserves a loyal, obedient wife. Your only job is to cater to his needs. Stay in your lane, and we won’t have any problems.”

Beibhinn gives my hand a quick reassuring squeeze before she drops her hold and pushes from the chair. “You may think I am a means to an end—a pretty wife to stand next to your son while he rules his kingdom. But make no assumptions… I’m the shepherd, not one of the sheep. I wasn’t raised to follow; I was born to lead. I’ll do my duties as requested, but you have another thing coming if you think you can mould this queen into a coward.”

With those words, she rounds her chair and exits the room with her head held high. Once the door seals behind her, my father averts his attention back to me. “Fail to keep her in line, and you won’t like what happens next. Break her, or I will.”

Eighteen

Beibhinn

The Present

The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fibre of my frame.

—Edgar Allan Poe

As I stare down at the captured memory clutched in my hand, my heart rate picks up pace, hammering wildly against my ribcage. There’s a war raging inside me, and suddenly, I’m overcome with this eerie sense of calm. Then, as if someone flicks a switch, every emotion I’ve felt over the last few days turns off. My grief fades into the background as fiendish malevolence takes the wheel.

I draw in a slow steady breath, and my body succumbs to the new arrival. I welcome it, allowing the hate to seep into my veins. Adrenaline pumps through every organ, building with every passing second, until all I can taste on my tongue is the bittersweet notes of revenge.

I drop the Polaroid of Liam and me onto the countertop, reaching boiling point. Vengeance washes through me with the force of a tsunami, reminding me who the fuck I am.

I am Beibhinn Devereux. I take no shit, give zero fucks, and I’m about to wreak havoc.

Someone—most likely my father—put a hit out on my brother, and I intend to find out why. There’s a lesson to be taught, and fortunately, I’m qualified to teach it. Oliver Devereux has spent years refusing to see what’s been in front of him all along. I’m not his doting daughter. I’m his penance. The queen he refused to see. I may have half his DNA flowing through my veins, but I am undoubtedly my mother’s daughter. It’s said that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and I’m ready to unleash the monster his betrayal created. Love runs deep, but my fury is an untamed beast with a weapon carved from the sharpened edges of my wrath.

Turning towards the back door that leads out onto the pathway to the main house, my gaze snags on Liam’s metal baseball bat resting inside the umbrella stand. It’s the same bat he had the night I found him towering over a battered Rohan—the night Gabriel dumped our cousin on our doorstep, barely breathing.

Before I can process my next move, my feet carry me towards it. My fingers curl around the handle of the bat, and I pull it out and raise it to my shoulder before reaching for the door-knob. When my reflection catches in the window, a hellacious smile twists my lips.

The first thing I notice is the white tank top and black boy shorts Cadden made me change into before he tucked me into bed after I broke into his arms. Then my eyes fall to the bat perched on my shoulder, swiftly followed by a wild head of untamed white-blonde hair. Taking a closer look, my gaze sweeps over the makeup I never took off after Liam’s funeral. Black mascara stains my cheeks and what’s left of my smudged signature red lip, making me look certifiable, but honestly, I don’t care. Madness never bothered me, weakness did.

Forgoing my shoes I swing the door open and allow the fiery rage within me to lead the way. Every step I take is fuelled by the heavy weight of my brother’s loss while the burning need for justice propels me forward with single-minded determination. With one destination in sight, I eat up the space between me and the main house, ignoring the haunting darkness that cloaks Devereux Manor. Once inside, I flick on the lights with the tip of the bat, then continue up the stairs until I’m standing outside my father’s home office.

I’m terrified of what I might find, but I’m desperate for answers. On a heavy exhale, I enter my father’s sanctuary. As soon as I push through the door and turn on the light, I’m overcome by the room that holds far too many—what I once thought of as precious—childhood memories. Only now, they’re replaced by the tainted betrayal of blood-stained grief.

Liam and I had spent many days over the course of our childhood in here, admiring a man who didn’t deserve an ounce of the worship we gave him. For so long, we put him on a pedestal, viewing him as a god amongst men. For years, I dedicated so much energy to proving I was just as worthy as my brother was. I’d spent hours, days, fucking months, learning everything there was to know about becoming a fearless leader, only to be sold off for the price of marriage. I should have known Oliver Devereux never loved his children. We were pawns in his game, a guarantee for a better position within the syndicate rankings. He wore a mask, and he wore it well, fooling everyone around him, including his wife.

Striding into the room, I grip the baseball bat tightly. “Hey, Alexa!” I activate the surround sound and wait for the blue light to show she’s listening. “Play ‘Cry Me A River’ by Tommee Profitt and Nicole Serrano. Full volume.” The piano keys ring through the overhead speakers as I survey the space and step further into the room. I take in every detail, noting every valuable ornament.

Finally, the booming bass kicks in, mirroring the pounding in my chest as I round my father’s desk. Bat still slung over my shoulder, I rifle through his belongings, searching through every drawer for anything I can find that puts him in the line of fire. When I come up empty, my anger boils over, and the next thing I know, I’m swinging blind. With each strike, I unleash a fury of pent-up emotions. The sound of destruction fills the room, a symphony of shattered glass and splintering wood that echoes my inner turmoil. Nothing is safe as I clear off each shelf with every swing of the bat—the desktop, the books, the crystal glasses, and the trophies from my childhood. I destroy it all, and with each blow, a small fragment of relief washes over me, a brief respite from the weight of my crippling loss.

Next, I move to the artwork on the far wall. Pulling back, I slam the barrel of the bat through the canvas. Tears mingle with sweat as I wield the bat with a ferocity that matches the storm raging inside me. I don’t let up until I tear a hole in the priceless collector’s piece.

The carnage around me mirrors the chaos in my soul, providing a temporary outlet for the overwhelming pain I’m carrying. Once my father’s possessions are thoroughly smashed to pieces, I sink to my knees and drop my chin to my chest. The baseball bat slips from my grasp, tumbling to the ground with a ping. Exhaustion coils my limbs, but I feel strangely liberated as I survey the wreckage before me with a mix of emotions churning in my chest. This path of vengeance will not bring Liam back, but at least it offers a semblance of justice in a world that had been cruel to us both.

My chest heaves with rapid breaths as I lift my gaze. The built-in floor-to-ceiling shelf unit captures my attention—or more importantly, the light reflecting through a sliver of an opening I would’ve never known was there.