Page 124 of Thy Kingdom Come
“Ya save her fuckin’ ma,” I order Brody. “Whatever money she needs, ya give it to her. If she dies, I’ll tell the peelers everythin’.”
Brody nods. “And Belfast? Who rules now?”
Cian and Rory avert their gazes because even though they and their dads are involved, this business only succeeded because of the Kellys. Now that the Kellys are no more, they know it won’t be the same. Look what Brody was able to achieve with Connor and Uncle Sean alive.
With them dead, the strongest links in our chain, we don’t stand a chance.
“It’s yours.”
Brody tips his face toward the heavens, inhaling in victory because this is what he has always wanted—Belfast.
I’ll never find out who his partner was, but it doesn’t matter. The people I love are dead. This is the only thing I can do to ensure that the ones left standing don’t suffer because of me.
“Punky, we’ll find a way,” Cian says, rushing forward and hugging me. “I love ye, brother.”
I hug him back numbly. “Look after the twins for me.”
Look after the twins for me…
I now understand why Connor asked this of me—he called the peelers because he was going to take the fall. He knew he couldn’t win against Brody. He knew that his empire had crumbled because he let it. But his faith in me allows me to see that he believed I could repair the damage he had done.
And I would have.
He allowed the traitor to bring our kingdom down, brick by brick, and him going to prison was the punishment he would accept for his crimes. But he never anticipated that something he thought he wasn’t capable of would bring him down—his love for me.
His death, Uncle Sean’s death; they’re on me.
“My dad will get his lawyer—”
“No,” I argue, consciousness slipping away. “Ye leave it be. Too much blood has been shed and for what? You live yer life, the life ye deserve, away from this, away from me. Mind this for me.”
Digging into my pocket, I give him my ma’s brooch. I don’t need it anymore.
“I won’t let ye rot in prison!” Cian shakes his head stubbornly, as does Rory, but after today, I won’t see them ever again. They’ll fight me, but after a while, they’ll forget.
And I want them to.
Rory puts his arm around Babydoll, who sobs violently, offering the comfort I cannot.
“I’ll be seein’ ye then,” Brody says, snapping his fingers.
Everyone hustles to command.
Cian and Rory don’t fight as they know the war is over. The corpses around us confirm this. “Ye make sure they get a grand burial.”
Cian nods, a tear trickling down his cheek when he looks at my da and Uncle Sean.
The remaining men disappear into the bushlands while Liam forces Cian, Rory, and Babydoll into the van. If this were some romance film, she’d turn over her shoulder to look at me. But this isn’t, so she doesn’t.
This is real life. My life which I fucked up by my own hand.
Brody is the last to leave. “I promise ye, when the time is right, I’ll tell ya everythin’.”
“Fuck you,” I reply, not interested in anything he has to say. “Keep those I love safe. That’s all I want from ya.”
Brody smirks as he lights a cigar. “Ye really are a Doyle.”
“Naw.” I shake my head with a grin as I steal his cigar. “I’m not. Ye may be my dad, but I’ll always be a Kelly. Don’tcha ever mistake me for anythin’ but that.”