Chapter 178: Of all the people in the world

Chapter 178: Of all the people in the world
Kieran didn't say a word. He put the car in gear, reversed out of the alley with surgical precision, and drove.

Twenty minutes later, the sleek black sedan idled at the end of a deserted pier in the Navy Yard. The city skyline was a jagged row of teeth against the night sky behind them, reflected in the oily, black water ahead.

Kieran killed the engine. The silence that filled the car was thick, heavy with the weight of a lifetime of coincidences that suddenly weren't coincidences at all.

He reached into his jacket, pulled out a silver case, and shook out two cigarettes. He put one between his lips and offered the other to Solomon.

Solomon took it. The flame of Kieran’s lighter flared, illuminating the sharp angles of their faces. Under the flickering light, the resemblance was there—not in the coloring, but in the bone structure. The brow. The set of the jaw.

They smoked in silence for a long moment, the gray plumes drifting out the cracked windows into the cold sea air.

"Ernest Vance," Kieran said finally, the name rolling off his tongue like a piece of grit.

"The man who spent every dime of my mother's money before I turned eighteen," Solomon corrected, his voice dripping with ice. "The man who drove her to a grave."

“Seriously, what the fuck?” Kieran took a drag, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the dashboard. "We were born in the same year."

"Four months," Solomon said, staring straight ahead at the water. "Rose was a waitress at one of Santoro’s clubs, right?"

"Yeah." Kieran let out a short, dark scoff. "She didn't like to talk about my father. I remember she told me that she told him she was pregnant and he just told her to get an abortion. But she never told me his name. She just said he was a coward who was married."

"He is a coward," Solomon agreed. "And a parasite."

"So," Kieran murmured, tapping ash out the window. "I’m the bastard product of one of the affairs that destroyed your childhood and drove your mother to suicide."

"Technically, yes."

Kieran turned his head, his dark eyes studying Solomon. There was no pity in his gaze, just a clinical assessment of the wreckage. "And yet, here we are..."

"Laura knew," Solomon said suddenly. "Or she guessed."

“Yeah, I remember,” Kieran stiffened at the name. "She said we could have been brothers in a past life."

"Turns out it was this one."

"She chose you, though," Kieran said, the old bitterness surfacing, though it lacked its usual sting. "Back then. She had both of us on a string, but she picked you over the boss."

"She picked the man she thought would get her out," Solomon replied. "You never wanted to leave, Kieran. You wanted the crown. Everyone knew… Laura knew."

"And look where that got her anyway," Kieran said brutally. "Dead. I didn’t pull the trigger but I put the target on her back."

"We both did," Solomon said. "I failed to keep her safe."

Kieran smoked in silence for a minute, the smoke curling around his fingers. "It explains a lot," Kieran muttered, looking back at the city lights. "Why I couldn't bring myself to kill you. I should have. And you decided to stick around even though I could snap and decide to end your shit for trying to steal my wife."

"I stayed because you needed me," Solomon said. "And because Catherine loves you. God knows why, but she does."

"And you?" Kieran asked, his eyes locking onto Solomon's. "Do you still have feelings her?"

Solomon hesitated. He could lie, but what was the point now?

"Yes," Solomon said. "I always will."

Kieran’s jaw tightened, the muscle feathering beneath the skin.

"But not like I loved Laura," Solomon continued steadily. "And not like she loves you. She’s my family, Kieran. Fuck, she’s my sister, as enraging as that sounds. And Chiara... Chiara is my niece... I have a niece."

Kieran watched him closely, looking for a crack in the armor, a sign of deceit. He found none. He just saw the same stoic resolve he saw in the mirror every morning.

"Ernest Vance," Kieran said, shaking his head with disbelief. "Of all the people in the world."

"Life has a sick sense of humor," Solomon agreed. "I spent my whole life trying to distance myself from him. And the one good thing he ever made... Turned out to be one of the few people I’d die for."

Kieran looked at him, surprised by the admission. He flicked his finished cigarette out the window, watching the sparks die in the darkness.

"If you ever call me 'bro'," Kieran finally said, his voice dry and devoid of emotion, "I will shoot you in the leg."

"Don't worry," Solomon replied, a faint smirk touching his lips. "I still plan on calling you 'Boss'. Until you fuck things up at least."

"Good." Kieran started the car, the engine purring to life. The emotional window was closing; the soldier was stepping back into the light. "We have work to do. We’re getting closer to Gabo Valente. This is almost over."

"I'm ready."

Kieran glanced at him as he pulled away from the pier, checking his blind spot. "By the way, you're paying for Chiara's college."

"Drive the car, Kieran."