Chapter 3 The Heir’s Burden
The cemetery was silent except for the wind.
It slipped between the headstones and bare trees, cold and restless, like it didn’t belong to the living. Liam stood in front of the grave with his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, shoulders tight, breath fogging the air with every slow exhale.
The headstone was simple. Clean. No unnecessary words. Exactly what Declan Jr. would have wanted.
DECLAN PATRICK O’SULLIVAN
1988 – 2017
Beloved Son, Brother, Protector
Protector.
The word sat heavy in his chest.
Liam crouched, ignoring the ache in his knees, and brushed his fingers over the marble. It was cold enough to sting. Frost clung to the edges, thin and fragile.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
The sound barely carried.
He swallowed, his jaw tightening. “I know you’d tell me to stop blaming myself. That it wasn’t my fault. That I should let it go.”
His fingers curled slightly against the stone.
“But you’re not here to say it, are you?”
The wind picked up, rattling the branches above him.
“They want me to marry a Scarpetti,” he continued. “Alessia. Salvatore’s daughter.” His mouth twisted. “The Council says it’s the only way. That it ends the war.”
A short, bitter laugh escaped him.
“You’d probably punch me for even thinking about it.
Tell me to fight back.” His voice roughened. “But you’re not the one who has to look Siobhan in the eye and wonder if she’ll be alive next year if I say no.”
His hand pressed harder into the stone.
“I have to do this, Dec. I don’t see another choice. I have to marry her. Live with her.” His voice dropped.
“Pretend.”
He closed his eyes.
“And I don’t even know if I hate her… or if I just hate what she represents.”
Alessia Scarpetti’s face surfaced uninvited. Sharp hazel eyes. Stillness like armor. She’d stood in that warehouse like nothing could touch her.
Dangerous.
And soon, she’d be his wife.
“I wish you were here,” he said, the words breaking. “I don’t know how to do this without you.”
The silence stayed.
“Liam?”
He straightened instantly. Whatever was on his face vanished as he turned.
Siobhan stood a few feet away, red curls whipped loose by the wind, hands buried in her coat pockets. She looked too small out here. Too young.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“You didn’t come home.” She stepped closer. “I was scared.”
“I’m fine.”
She glanced at the grave. “You never are when you come here.”
He said nothing.
“I heard about the marriage,” she said quietly. “The Council.”
Of course she had.
“It’s handled.”
“Handled?” Her voice cracked. “They’re forcing you to marry a Scarpetti. The family that killed him.”
“Because the alternative is worse.” He turned to her fully. “If I don’t do this, they burn everything. Everyone. You included.”
Her eyes filled fast. “I don’t want you to disappear for me.”
“I’m not disappearing,” he said. “I’m standing in front of it.”
She grabbed his arm. “We can leave. Tonight. Just us.”
For one heartbeat, the idea almost hurt.
“I can’t.”
“Why is it never enough?” she cried.
He looked away. “Because it doesn’t get to be.”
Tears slid down her face. “I don’t want to lose you too.”
He pulled her into his arms, holding on tighter than he meant to.
“You won’t,” he murmured.
“You can’t promise that.”
“I just did.”
She pulled back, searching his face. “What if she’s just like her father?”
Liam didn’t answer.
“I’ll figure it out,” he said finally. “Just trust me.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “I trust you. I just don’t trust them.”
They turned toward the car.
“Well, well.”
Liam froze.
Cormac O’Sullivan crossed the lot, coat snapping in the wind, smile thin and sharp.
“I heard about the wedding,” Cormac said. “A surrender dressed up as peace.”
“Get in the car,” Liam said to Siobhan.
Cormac’s eyes gleamed. “Declan would be ashamed.”
Liam moved before thought caught up.
Cormac slammed into metal, breath knocked out of him.
“Say his name again,” Liam growled.
Cormac didn’t fight back.
“This will destroy us,” he hissed.
“Then don’t cross me.”
Liam released him.
Cormac straightened his coat. “You’re making a mistake.”
“Then I’ll live with it.”
Cormac walked away.
“Liam?” Siobhan whispered.
“Get in the car.”
He slid into the driver’s seat, hands shaking on the wheel.
“I’m fine,” he said.
The lie sat heavy.
And he knew it wouldn’t last.