Chapter 4 - The Unspoken Confession
The humid underground air grew heavy with an electric tension that made it hard to breathe. Sloan stared at Cormack, her defenses wavering under the sheer intensity of his dark, predatory eyes. For fourteen months, that gaze had made her feel safer than she had ever felt in her life, despite knowing the violent world he commanded. Now, seeing the genuine shock and fury flickering behind his calm exterior, the dam inside her finally broke.
"She gave me a script, Cormack!" Sloan cried, her voice cracking as tears spilled over her cheeks. "She came to the hospital where Birdie was sleeping. She sat on my mother's bed, holding a folder full of every debt, every late payment, every detail of my life! She told me you were going to marry an heiress from Chicago to unite the ports. She said I was a pathetic, working-class stray dragging you down into ruin!"
Cormack took a slow step forward, his fists clenching so hard that his knuckles turned stark white inside his leather gloves. "And you believed her?"
"She proved she could shut off my mother's life support with a single phone call!" Sloan screamed, dropping the tuning hammer onto the floor with a dull thud. "She made me memorize the insults. She told me if I cried, if I hesitated, or if I let you see that I loved you, she would pull the funding that night! I stood in your house and died inside, Cormack! I told you I never loved you so that you would hate me enough to let me walk away without a fight!"
Cormack closed the distance between them in two long strides. Before Sloan could retreat, his hands reached out, cupping her cold, wet face with an astonishing tenderness that defied his terrifying reputation. His thumbs brushed the tears from her cheeks, his own breath ragged and uneven.
"You foolish, brave girl," Cormack murmured, his voice thick with a raw, dangerous emotion she had never heard from him before. "Do you truly think I cared about an alliance in Chicago? Do you think I gave a damn about high society? I tore up the Chicago contracts the day you said yes to dinner at the Kingsbury."
Sloan looked up into his eyes, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. "She has men watching the hospital, Cormack. If we make a move, she'll hurt Birdie."
"Nobody touches what belongs to me," Cormack whispered, his gaze turning as cold and sharp as black ice. "My mother forgot the most important rule my father taught me: the head of the family does not negotiate with traitors, even if they share his own blood."
He turned toward the basement stairs. "Dermit!"
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Quinnland appeared instantly at the top of the landing. "Yes, Boss?"
"Send six of our best men to Boston General immediately. Secure Birdie Ashby’s floor. Anyone not wearing hospital scrubs or carrying our direct authorization is to be put in the ground. Then notify the Beacon Hill house—the gates are opening tonight, and we are holding a family reunion."
