Page 38 of Malevolent Hearts

“According to Bevy, it’s footage of Oliver incriminating himself… and Gabriel in the process.” Rohan kicks his feet up onto the coffee table. “Should we wait for Lorcan and Saoirse to get back?”

My mother snatches the USB from my hand. Her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as she crosses the room before coming to a halt in front of the TV mounted to the wall above the fireplace.

“Wait!” The sight of the USB drive in her hands feels like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode with the damning evidence it contains. My gaze snaps to Éanna, and her eyes lock on mine as I continue, “There is delicate information discussed on the recording.”

From the side, my mother asks, “Delicate how?”

Ignoring her, my wide eyes flick from Rohan to Saoirse’s mam, hoping she can read my mind. Recognition flicks across her features, and the room falls so silent I can hear her heart drop as she rises to her feet. Judging by the devastated look on her face, the past she ran from has finally caught up to her, and she knows it.

Feeling the tension in the air, Rohan pushes from the armchair and pulls his cigarette case from his pocket as he heads towards the door. “I’ll be outside if anyone needs me.”

I barely acknowledge his exit or the click of the door as he shuts it behind him, keeping my gaze locked on Éanna. “You never told her, did you?” I question without giving too much away.

Éanna shakes her head before hanging it low and tucking her chin to her chest.

“I already know. I’ve known for eighteen years.”

Éanna lifts her head, surprised by my mother’s words. They share a look, one I recognise from my friendship with Saoirse. A wordless conversation that only comes with the rarest of connections. “Why didn’t you say something?” Her eyes glisten with unshed tears as her features twist into a mixture of guilt and anguish.

“What was I supposed to say? ‘I’m sorry the man I am marrying violated you in the worst possible way’?” The raw vulnerability in my mother’s words lays bare the depths of her pain, a mirror image of the turmoil twisting on Éanna’s face as she desperately tries to finish a puzzle she doesn’t have all the pieces to. “Besides, I figured you’d tell me when you were ready, only that day never came.”

“I tried to tell you. I swear I did,” Éanna confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. “But you were heavily pregnant with the twins,” she continues, “and I couldn’t risk putting that much stress on you so close to your due date. Then after Liam and Bev were born, I went into hiding and told Darragh to look out for you. He promised me he would take care of you and the twins. But then…”

My mother’s jaw tightens, and I can see the hurt brimming in her eyes. “Oliver killed him.”

I don’t know much about Darragh Ryan’s death, but from the stories I heard over the years, her version of events coincides with the rumours.

My mam’s eyes flick between Éanna and me, then her shoulders sag with the weight of her exhale. “That was the story Oliver spun to keep his arse out of the fire. Truth is, Darragh came to me after what happened to you, and he told me everything.” My mam lowers herself into the armchair and lifts her gaze to Éanna’s. “Once I learned the truth, I could barely stand the sight of Oliver, and I knew as soon as my babies were born, I’d leave him. Only the stress of everything sent me spiralling, and I ended up going into labour earlier than expected.”

Crossing the room, Éanna drops to her hunkers in front of my mam before taking hold of her hands and offering her comfort. A part of me wants to back away and let them have their moment, but when my mother’s eyes connect with mine over her best friend’s shoulder, I know she’d prefer me to stay.

“The twins were kept in ICU for several weeks, making my escape impossible, at least at the time. Every day, Darragh would drive me to the hospital to see them, and before long, feelings developed between us. When the twins were released from the hospital, Darragh and I had a plan. Once he turned eighteen, he’d be able to claim the Ryan seat. Then, I could leave Oliver before our summer wedding was set to take place, taking the kids with me. Darragh would be on the road to becoming the next Leinster king, and we’d be safe. Or so we thought.”

Éanna’s hand flies toward her mouth at my mam’s revelation. “You. The morning before he died, he told me he found his queen. He wouldn’t tell me much, just that he’d fallen in love and that he could guarantee I would love his future wife.”

My mam nods her head. “I was there when he called you. We were planning on telling you together when you came home. But unfortunately, we never got the chance. Then after he was gone, it was too hard to talk about him and what should have been.”

Confusion narrows my brow as a flurry of questions race through my mind. How did I spend my entire life believing my mam and dad were in love? How did she stay with him knowing every bad thing he’d done? How did she sleep knowing her kids were under the same roof as a monster? How did she look at my dad knowing he killed the love of her life?

Before I can stop myself, the words tumble past my lips. “If Dad raped your best friend, then killed the man you loved, why the fuck did you stay with him all these years?”

My mother’s gaze holds mine. “Because I couldn’t risk him taking another person I loved away from me. The night he found out about my relationship with Darragh, he lost it. I’ll never forget the look on his face as he issued his threat. ‘Nobody takes what’s mine and lives to keep it.’ The next morning, I found Darragh hanging from a tree with a suicide note shoved in his pocket.”

“At the time, I was so scared,” she continues. “You and Liam were still so tiny and helpless. I couldn’t risk him hurting either of you, so I stayed, committing myself to a lifetime with Oliver Devereux. Once we were married, there was no other choice. Syndicate marriages are for life.”

“You should have told me.” A sob dampens Éanna’s words. “You could have come with us. Lorcan would have kept you and the kids safe.”

My mother looks between me and her best friend, and for the first time since the night my brother died, I see the fire in her eyes, the same one that burns inside me. “I’m not like you.” She squeezes Éanna’s hand. “Running from my life was never an option. Instead, I did what I had to do. I fought back. Every spare second I had I spent in my gym, training in every form of self-defence I could. I learned how to use any object within reach as a weapon. Then, when my daughter”—her attention flicks towards me—“turned ten, and I saw my husband leering at her across the dinner table, I handed her a gun and taught her how to use it.”

Memories of all the training my mother had given me comes rushing to the forefront of my mind. She taught me everything I know. If we weren’t in the gym, we were at the gun range. At the time, I thought she was preparing me for syndicate life, but now it all makes sense. She was making sure I could fight back if I needed to.

Suddenly, Éanna rises from her hunkers and wraps her arms around her centre. “I never should have run. The second I left, the dominos started to fall. If I’d have stayed, none of this would have happened.”

My mam stands, placing her hand on Éanna’s shoulder. “You don’t know that. If you’d stayed, more people might have gotten hurt. You did what you had to do.”

Suddenly, the front door opens with a bang and Saoirse comes rushing in and straight up the stairs. Rohan is hot on her heels, shouting after her. “Please talk to me, mo bhanríon.”

Defeated, he stops at the base of the stairs when Saoirse’s bedroom door slams shut, closing him out.