Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“We grow up hearing that life isn’t fair, which is certainly true,” he continued. “But we do our best by being part of a society that pushes for fair laws for all. We decided that murder is wrong, no matter what. Still, several states have the death penalty. We support our troops, many of whom come home after ending lives on a battlefield. We look back on history and watch interviews with Nazi soldiers who were simply following orders.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face.
He cleared his throat. “The short answer is, I gave up. I stopped pretending I could be what even a modern society’s structure couldn’t. Society isn’t fair at all. I’m not convinced it’s actually possible. There will always be hypocrisy and injustice. Because we keep trying to make things black-and-white when humanity is anything but.”
And there it was. The damn black-and-white.
“In other words, you’ve created your own society with the Sons,” I deduced quietly.
He inclined his head. “That’s a good way of putting it.”
“And you’ve given up justifying reasoning as much as acts. Hypothetically speaking.”
He let out a chuckle. “We didn’t give up. We reevaluated. The giving up part is personal. We have our own laws, and they revolve around protecting our interests, including our community, our families, and our values. This is nothing you haven’t heard before.”
He was right about that.
“In the unlikely event that God is real, I’ll let him judge me,” he said. “In the meantime, I will hurt those who’ve harmed my loved ones. I will do anything to protect my family, and I don’t feel guilty about that.”
Something loosened in my chest.
I will do anything to protect my family, and I don’t feel guilty about that.
In the end, it wasn’t a matter of justifying anything, then. It was a matter of accepting that I no longer believed in black-and-white.
I swallowed and turned around to get the food from the microwave.
The second plate went in next, and I pushed the first one across the island to Shan.
“What about ramifications, doc?” I asked, grabbing utensils. “How to be able to live with oneself after taking a life?”
He broke off a piece of bread. “You drive me to drink, West.”
I let out a laugh. “By all means. I’ll go get the whiskey.”
“No, it’s all right,” he chuckled. “I take it you’re concerned about Alfie.”
“Well, yes. He’s chosen this life and will be exposed to situations where he’s more free to decide someone’s punishment. Out here in the world that pretends to be black-and-white, we hand things over to the police and a courtroom.”
“Mm.” He nodded and chewed, and he dragged the bread through the marinara.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” I pointed.
“My God, yes. Who made this?”
“Giulia. She cooks for Alfie whenever I’m out of town.” It’d been that way during our marriage too.
“She should open a restaurant.” He reached for the napkin holder by the knives. “I understand your fears, mate. I do. But in Alfie’s case, I don’t think you need to worry. He actually needs to confer with Kellan before taking any action. Alfie isn’t part of a street crew. The inner circle turns to Finn, Kellan, and Colm for counsel and orders.”
That was only reassuring when the people deserving punishment hadn’t viciously assaulted his mother.
“You do realize he’s John Murray’s son biologically,” I said. “Is your criminal bunch of malcontents known for holding back when a crime has been committed against you or people you love?”
He furrowed his brow at me and set down his fork.
“It’s his mother, Shan,” I reminded him. “What did Finn do when his mother was murdered?”
I wasn’t going to bring up Patrick. Grace O’Shea was enough of a personal blow.
It wasn’t a coincidence that practically an entire mafia organization in Italy had been wiped off the face of the earth following the deaths of Grace and Patrick.
“You know, I thought I was coming over here to show you the listings from Killarney,” he said. “I had my Realtor in Dublin get up at the crack of dawn and everything.”
My mouth twitched. We’d get to that. I’d buy a nice little cottage or something, and I’d propose there.
“How about I buy you a nice driver?” I suggested.
“Is that what’s causing me to slice the balls? Because I’ve tried—”
“No, not at all. That’s all on you. But a nice driver is a nice driver.”
He scoffed under his breath and stabbed a meatball with his fork. “Alfie will be fine, West. He told Kellan to physically hold him back… Excuse me.” He pulled out his phone and frowned at the display. It just said Eric. “Yes, Eric?”
It reminded me to check my own phone, to see if Phil had responded.
Shan cursed and turned away slightly.
I hoped nothing was wrong.
Phil’s message flashed on the screen, and he’d responded less than a minute after I’d sent my text.