The Final Hour (Dublin Nights Book 5)

by Brittney Sahin

  “What if Luca is taking a page from his old playbook?” She set her burner down and folded her arms. “Think about how he tore apart the Petrovs. Maxim Petrov’s daughter, Ivana, was denied a leadership position in the family business because she was a woman as well. Luca turned Ivana Petrov against her brother, Dimitri, and he ended up in a League prison. The same League prison Luca held Alessia captive all those years. Then, when the time was right, he gave Alessia no choice but to kill Dimitri.”

  Emilia reminded me just how much of a sick bastard we were dealing with. Luca had tried and almost succeeded in turning the most powerful Russian crime family on The League by disrupting the Petrovs from the inside. He’d seduced Ivana with ideas of power, made her feel wronged for not taking over instead of her brother because she was a woman. Then Ivana teamed up with her cousin, Adrian, to have Dimitri killed. Only Luca, being Luca, faked Dimitri’s death and hid him away in his League-controlled prison where Dimitri met Alessia.

  “And you think Luca is doing the same thing with Bridgette?” My jaw began to ache as if Ethan had actually punched me. How hard was I clenching my teeth? “But how does Atlas fit into all of this?”

  “What if we’ve had it wrong? What if it was Luca who persuaded Bridgette to start an affair with Atlas in hopes he’d turn on Peter? Atlas falls in love with Bridgette and then . . .”

  “Takes out her husband for her, freeing her from the marriage to Peter,” I finished for her in agreement. “But wouldn’t she wind up bound to yet another man? What would the play be there? Maybe Luca convinced her that she was being cheated out of her rightful position of power just as he did with Ivana? But they must know her father would never let her run Germany, even if Peter died.”

  Emilia’s eyes narrowed, a determined expression on her face to figure this all out. And I was certain she was seconds away. “Bridgette was forced to marry Peter. No choice in the matter. But what if Luca seduced her? Tricked her into falling in love with him? Promised her they’d rule Germany together, as equal partners, once Peter was out of the picture. No more runway shows. Ultimate power.”

  “And neither Atlas nor Peter has any clue they’re pawns in Luca’s game. She and Luca are the ones pulling the strings. And I’m assuming Sara gave Bridgette the heads-up I was coming to Scotland. Or Luca assumed it would happen because of the intel he handed to you. It’s also why she stopped using that purse.”

  “Luca had no choice but to provide us with credible intel so we wouldn’t end our deal with him. But what if the intel he gave us was to serve his own purposes somehow?” she asked. “And how does Sara fit into all of this? We’re still missing pieces to this puzzle, and it’s pissing me off.”

  “Hard to think like a psychopath,” I repeated what I’d said to my sister at the club Tuesday night.

  “Luca’s managed to not only worm his way into The Alliance once again, but he’s in their good graces. And all while he was under our protection.” Emilia shook her head, clearly having a hard time accepting the fact Luca was playing us. “We didn’t know he’d aligned himself with The Alliance in the past until we discovered his betrayal to Sebastian.”

  How could I forget that part? Luca had not only kidnapped Alessia and faked her death, but he’d targeted my family after learning Sebastian’s feelings for my sister.

  “I had my doubts he’d be able to get The Alliance to trust him again, but I should have suspected he was up to something more devious when he first told me he was working on getting close to the Laurents.”

  “What if Luca’s play is to have Peter killed somehow? Encourage Atlas to offer to step in to marry Bridgette. Unite their families, thereby joining all three countries.”

  Emilia set a hand to my forearm, eyes sweeping to mine. “At that point, someone will surely invoke The Final Hour ritual. I would assume Atlas will make his move within days after Peter dies out of fear Bridgette’s father will find a replacement for Peter, or even resume control of Germany himself until Bridgette remarries.”

  “So, that’s how Luca plans to do it,” I said, shocked by how purely evil but also kind of genius Luca truly was. “Once Atlas enters that fighting ring for that hour-long ritual to prove himself worthy to control all three countries, Luca will declare himself one of the challengers and join the ring. He’ll make his claim for Bridgette.”

  “And per the rules, if Luca defeats Atlas, he has a shot at taking everything from him. He’ll kill Atlas and marry Bridgette himself.”

  “He’s been planning this since last year. We have to assume every step he’s made since Simon and Milo’s plane went down was for this moment.”

  Emilia’s grip on my arm tightened. “Or before then . . . I wouldn’t put it past Luca to be the reason that plane went down.” Her skin blanched, and I knew deep down that she was right.

  Luca, the master manipulator, always thinking three moves ahead. I blinked a few times, trying to wrap my head around this new theory. It was right in front of us the whole time, but somehow, we’d missed it. “Luca needs us taken down, so we’re not a threat to him. That will also help prove his worth to The Alliance if anyone challenges him after The Final Hour ritual.” My body tensed, anger tightening my muscles. “He’ll be unstoppable.”

  My brows lifted in surprise when a beautiful but wicked smirk cut across Emilia’s lips. “Well, fortunately, I have just the idea of how to stop him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Emilia

  “It doesn’t feel right. We can’t eat Christmas Eve dinner without Ethan here.” I watched with sympathy as Sean’s mother, Cara, paced in front of the large brick fireplace in the living room, the soothing crackle of the roaring fire obscured by the distressing sound of her heels hitting the hardwood floor with each step. Despite her anguish, she looked like an angel, dressed in a cream-colored cashmere dress. She wore her dark hair down this evening, which made her look younger, less like the mother of four adult children. But the worry on her face and her nervous pacing were decidedly that of a concerned mother.

  “Maybe he’ll show up in time for Mass,” I offered.

  Cara turned out to be different than I expected based on what I knew about her. We’d spent limited time together before the holidays, and my opinion of her hadn’t been great considering I knew what she and Ronan had done to Adam when he was younger. They’d lied to him. Told him he’d paralyzed a guy in a fight to try and scare him into never fighting again, which had devastated Adam for years.

  The two loving and concerned parents I saw surely would never purposely hurt their son like that. But I supposed they’d only been trying to protect Adam and worried fighting might get him killed. Everyone had their reasons for doing things, and sometimes the only sense it made was to themselves.

  Like my lying to Sean, telling him the German thug he’d fought in Sara’s store was in a League prison rather than dead from internal injuries sustained during that fight.

  After realizing Luca’s true intentions regarding Bridgette that morning, I should have told Sean the truth of what had happened. But whenever I opened my mouth to do so, the words just got stuck. I was terrified of how he’d look at me.

  And then we’d spent the rest of today with Sebastian and the others to fill them in on what Roman had told us, which then led to devising a new plan to destroy Luca and The Alliance.

  And on top of all that, I finally took the awkward step and admitted my connection to Chanel. It shocked them all, well, except for Sean and Sebastian. I could see sympathy as well as curiosity on their faces, but they’d kept their questions to a minimum.

  As for Ethan, he’d been MIA since he left my suite this morning. Sean hadn’t been able to track him down or locate Sara. Ethan had texted his parents to let them know he was busy and that he may or may not show up tonight. We didn’t believe he was in actual danger, though. Luca’s big plan wouldn’t include kidnapping Ethan. Well, I hoped not, and I certainly didn’t want to utter that possibility to Sean, or he’d lose his mind.
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  It was so hard to sit there and go through the motions of the holiday festivities, knowing what we did, though. But Sean and his siblings didn’t want to set off any red flags to whoever may be watching us, including Sara. They also didn’t want to ruin the children’s Christmas. Or Cara and Ronan’s holiday. So, for the time being, we were putting on a show of being a normal and happy family. The plan we’d devised didn’t go into motion until New Year’s Eve anyway.

  I glimpsed at Sean, where he sat on the brown leather couch with Siobhan on his lap, and I couldn’t help but let out a quiet sigh.

  Now that was a sight to see. Sean had been distracting himself about Ethan by focusing on his niece and nephew since we arrived at his parents’ estate an hour ago.

  Siobhan had cute little red ribbons in her dark hair. A bright red matching dress with white stockings and the cutest little doll-like shoes on her feet. Sean bounced her on his strong thigh with her arms stretched out as he held her hands. He had a loving smile on his face whenever she laughed, but I knew he was hiding his mood—for her, for his parents.

  Beneath the black trousers and the white button-down shirt was a taut, distressed body. We had a plan, but that didn’t change the fact he was agitated and irritable.

  “And the youngest is supposed to light the candle.” Cara’s pacing stopped when her husband blocked her path near the huge and beautifully decorated Christmas tree in front of two windows overlooking the back. “Braden and Siobhan can’t do it yet. Ethan always lights the candle.”

  Apparently, a candle was to be lit on Christmas Eve and put in the window as a symbolic welcome to Mary and Joseph on their travels. The milk and bread, not cookies, were set out by the fireplace for St. Nick already. The sacks, not stockings, were laid out for Santa to fill tomorrow for Braden and Siobhan. Dozens and dozens of gifts wrapped in shiny paper circled the bottom of the tree.

  The McGregor tradition dictated that we have dinner, open one gift each, and then make our way to St. Patrick’s Cathedral for Midnight Mass. Instead, we were anxiously awaiting the arrival of the last McGregor, no idea if he’d show up.

  “Cara, my love, he’ll come. He won’t miss tonight. Ethan texted, remember? There’s been no accident. He’s fine.” Ronan massaged the sides of her arms, trying to help her calm down.

  Sean peered my way, a dark gleam in his eyes.

  The rest of the McGregor family had scattered about the house. I wasn’t sure what they were doing, but Holly had passed Siobhan over to Sean before disappearing from the room ten minutes ago.

  I crossed the space, which should have been full of animated conversation and laughter rather than tension, and headed for the fireplace, my gaze settling on the flickering flames that danced around the real logs.

  “Ma, drink this.”

  I pivoted to see Holly entering the room, a small tray of drinks in hand, and Sebastian trailing behind her. She looked lovely in a similar cream-colored cashmere dress as her mother’s, her dark hair in a chignon at the nape of her neck. My wardrobe was a bit bolder by comparison—a green wrap dress with black stockings and black knee-length boots.

  “Hot toddy?” Holly asked me after handing a drink to her mother. “Hot whiskey,” she added when I looked at her in confusion.

  “Thanks,” I said as Sebastian sat alongside Sean and took Siobhan from him to hold on his lap.

  “Adam and Anna are finishing Braden’s bath, and they’ll be down soon,” she added.

  We were all supposed to spend the night so that we’d already be together for Christmas morning. Instead of staying in Sean’s old bedroom, his mother gave us one of the guest rooms with a larger bed. I guess she assumed we were together, but I doubted any of us would be getting any sleep if Ethan didn’t make an appearance tonight.

  Maybe it would have been better if Roman had called on December 26th with the news of the surveillance footage, but then again, Sara already messed up the holiday by kissing Sean and lying to Ethan about it.

  I was still bitter about that. The idea that she set her mouth on my man, and damn it, he was mine—to hell with my issues.

  Sara was lucky I didn’t hit women. Well, not unless they tried to kill me. That was a deal breaker.

  Sean stood, a plea in his eyes, and walked toward his mother. “Maybe we ought to go ahead with the evening.”

  His mother lowered the glass of hot whiskey from her lips, appearing to be mortified at the notion.

  “We could read The Dead,” Holly said, a smile crossing her face.

  “The what?” I asked in surprise.

  Cara’s facial expression changed quickly, her eyes lighting up, and when she began to describe the short story by James Joyce, which was the Irish version of A Christmas Carol, I realized her love of literature had momentarily eclipsed her worries.

  Good call, I thought while tipping my head at Holly.

  “It’s a tale about the magic of life. Of death.” Cara moved to one of the red velvet armchairs near the fireplace. She set her glass on her thigh, her eyes darting around the room as she told the story in her own words.

  Every so often, I saw Sean peering my way. Becoming a bit less intense with every line his mother shared. The flames danced off his blue eyes as he stood next to the fireplace, one hand on the mantel, the other holding his drink. He’d rolled his sleeves to the elbows, showcasing his strong forearms and the titanium Tag Heuer watch he usually wore.

  His piercing eyes met mine and managed to soothe me. His gaze had softened, less broody now. He wasn’t undressing me with his eyes, but it was as if he were envisioning a future between us now. A big family. Christmas stories by our fire. Laughter and love.

  Or maybe it was me imagining all of those things with him.

  I could see my life in Dublin.

  I set the whiskey on the mantel and drew a palm down the column of my neck as those beautiful ideas worked through my mind, and Cara wrapped up the story.

  “Your gift. The one you get to open tonight,” Sean announced when his mother finished, and Adam, Anna, and Braden, as well as Cole and Alessia, had now joined us in the living room. “I’d like to give it to you now.”

  “Maybe we should wait for Ethan?” Cole spoke up, standing by his wife where she sat in another one of the red armchairs opposite Cara.

  “You know how Ethan is,” Sean said, sounding angrier with Ethan than at the situation that possibly endangered him. “And he doesn’t need to be here while I give Emilia a gift.” He reached into his pocket, and I heard a startled gasp from Cara.

  When did he have time to sneak out and shop for me? We’d been together almost every minute this week.

  I followed the line of muscle along his forearm toward his hand, which held a small blue box.

  There was no way in the world Sean would propose to me. I knew that, and yet, I couldn’t wrap my head around what could be inside that box. I was certain it was Cara’s engagement ring assumption that had propelled me three steps back, nearly bumping into Alessia where she sat.

  I couldn’t let him give me a gift when there was a lie between us. A big, big lie. He deserved more from me.

  Sean met my eyes, then focused on the box in his hand before returning his gaze on me, a painful expression crossing his face, the same one I’d witnessed when he overheard me tell Sebastian earlier in the week I could never love him.

  He was breathing slowly, evenly. Eyes tight, brows slanted. Disappointment in my response flashing across his face, and it had my stomach turning. “Emilia, I—”

  My hand lifted as if to part the seas, to stop this handsome man from saying more. “I lied,” I whispered, and this was a moment I knew I’d never forget. Never forgive myself for, either. Because the uncomfortable truth I kept putting off telling him, the truth I never wanted to share with him, spilled from my lips like a dying confession, “The German. He’s not in prison. He died.”

  I felt Cole’s eyes on me. Sebastian’s, too. Their heated looks burned through me.

  Bu
t it was Sean’s gaze that turned dark as his hand dropped to his side that gutted me. That look would be forever etched into my mind. This moment would go down as one of the worst in my life.

  I turned and hurried out of the living room, uttering my apologies to everyone on the way out.

  “What on earth is going on?” I heard Cara say.

  “Adam and Ethan aren’t the sons you need to pray so hard for, Ma.” I stopped in my tracks just outside the room at Sean’s murmured statement.

  I shook off the hurt in his voice and the painful meaning in his words, then started moving again. We weren’t in a fairy tale, after all, were we? I was ignorant to believe it could be different. That I could be different.

  Within a few seconds, Sean grabbed hold of my arm and urged me into the closest room. He spun me around before slamming the door shut behind him.

  The angry mood he’d been in earlier had nothing on this moment.

  He held the box between us, biting down on his teeth. “Not a ring,” he hissed. “Do you think I’m an idiot to propose to you when I don’t even know what you want for us?”

  My back went to the wall inside the office as if somehow a wall could not only hold me up but also stop the feelings pushing through me with such intensity.

  Sean angrily shoved the box back into his pocket. “I knew something was up. I knew it, damn it. You were lying to me. And I’m guessing Cole, too. And no way does Sebastian not know this.” He lowered his head, his palm meeting his forehead as he walked the length of the room, cursing under his breath. “When were you planning on telling me? The third Tuesday from never?” He stopped walking and whirled around to face me with fire in his eyes.

  “I didn’t want to ruin your Christmas. I asked Cole and Sebastian to lie. Don’t be mad at them.”

  He dragged his gaze along the length of my body as if he wanted to punish me. Hurt me for what I did to him. I knew he’d never do that, but he could easily bruise my heart. I’d never known it was possible to feel so emotionally banged up but seeing this man I cared about angry with me . . . well, it was possible. Painfully possible.