Chapter 3 - Whispers in the Walls
The stone tunnels beneath the estate were centuries old,
built during a time when Dublin was a city of rebels and redcoats.
The air was freezing,
our breath rising in pale plumes in the darkness.
We walked in silence,
our footsteps muffled by the damp dirt floor.
Killian kept his weapon raised,
his eyes scanning every shadow.
“You are remarkably calm for a maid,”
he remarked,
his voice low and gravelly.
“In my line of work,”
I whispered,
“panic is a luxury I cannot afford.”
“And what exactly is your line of work,
Norah?”
he asked,
a hint of amusement in his tone.
“Surviving,”
I replied simply.
He did not push further,
but I could feel his curiosity burning.
For years,
I had been a ghost in his house,
watching him build his empire on a foundation of blood and fear.
I had seen the men who came to his office,
their faces pale with terror,
begging for mercy.
I had seen the cold calculation in his eyes as he signed their fates.
Yet,
here he was,
holding my hand in the dark,
relying on me to lead him to safety.
We reached a heavy iron grate,
the exit to the old carriage house.
Through the metal bars,
I could see the gray morning light filtering down.
The carriage house was empty,
used only for storing old garden tools and forgotten furniture.
“Wait,”
I said,
stopping him before he could push the grate open.
“Kieran knows about the carriage house.”
“He does,”
Killian agreed,
his jaw tight.
“But he does not know about the third tunnel.”
He reached past me,
pressing his hand against a loose brick in the wall.
With a low grinding sound,
a section of the stone wall slid backward,
revealing a narrow passage.
This was his personal escape route,
known only to him and his most loyal men.
“After you,”
he said,
motioning for me to enter first.
The passage was tight,
the stone walls scraping against my shoulders as I moved.
It was a claustrophobic space,
filled with the scent of damp earth and old iron.
As we walked,
I could hear the distant sound of sirens echoing from the streets above.
The police were coming,
but they would be too late to save anyone in that house.
“Aoife,”
Killian said suddenly,
his voice flat.
“She was the one who authorized this.”
“She was holding a burner phone,”
I confirmed.
“She said ‘Do it now’ right before the red dot appeared.”
Killian let out a low,
bitter laugh.
“Her father promised me an alliance,”
he muttered.
“It seems the Callahans preferred my head on a platter.”
“They wanted your empire,”
I said,
“and Kieran was the key to the castle.”
“Kieran was like a brother to me,”
Killian said,
and for the first time,
I heard a flicker of pain in his voice.
It was a rare moment of vulnerability from a man who was supposed to be a monster.
“Brothers are often the ones who know where to strike,”
I noted softly.
He stopped walking,
turning to face me in the narrow passage.
Our bodies were close,
almost touching in the tight space.
His dark eyes searched my face,
trying to read the secrets I had kept hidden for so long.
“And you,
Norah?”
he asked,
his voice a whisper.
“Why did you warn me?”
“Because,”
I said,
looking directly into his eyes,
“I do not like seeing a man killed by cowards.”
He stared at me for a long moment,
the corner of his mouth twitching into a grim smile.
“An honest answer,”
May you like
he murmured.
“Let us hope we live long enough for me to reward you.”
