Vera could understand that.

  “Lachlan ... you’ve met him, no?”

  Vera tried to keep a straight face even as she nodded. “I did.”

  And what she knew about him made her worry about what Alfie had planned for him.

  Vera was usually better at concealing her emotions and thinking of a positive outcome even when she wasn’t sure how she would get there.

  But it was proving harder than she expected when it was Alfie, even as she knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself. Especially seeing the way his entire demeanor changed from being back in London.

  “You don’t need to worry about him,” Yana said as she patted the back of Vera’s hand, moving past her farther into the kitchen to pull a teapot from the cabinet. “Alfie’s always been good at taking care of himself. They both were. Lachlan just … he lost his way.”

  She tried to imagine a younger Alfie and a version of Lachlan who wasn’t the man she had grown to know over the past few weeks.

  “What happened to him?” Vera asked. “To Lachlan, I mean. What changed?”

  Yana blew out a breath, her expression changing as she filled the pot with water before setting it on the stove. “Lachlan has always been a troubled boy. He didn’t have anyone until Alfie joined the gym.

  “That was where they met. I’m sure Alfie has told you. Lachlan’s father was a real bastard of a man,” she continued with a shake of her head, her expression reflecting the distaste she felt for him.

  Vera could only imagine what the sire to someone like Lachlan had to be like if he was considered lost. And his father was a bastard.

  A part of her also wondered that if she knew more about him, would that explain his behavior? Would she see what Alfie did?

  Because with the sort of problem Lachlan had brought, she knew what her family would have done.

  Kaz would have put him in the ground and considered the problem fixed, but Alfie would not kill Lachlan.

  They wouldn’t be here if he was.

  “He was never right after the man died. As much as he’d hated him … he also wanted his love. A terrible conundrum.”

  That, Vera understood very well.

  “What happens now, do you think?” she asked, voicing her thoughts.

  “I think … I think there’s a lot they all need to figure out, but above all else, there’s more that needs to be addressed between Lachlan and Feather.”

  “Mum!”

  Speak of the devil …

  Feather came in in a rush, tossing her bag aside as she immediately ran to her mother. “Alfie—”

  “I know, dear. I know.”

  Feather came to Vera next, wrapping her in a hug so tight it was hard for her to take a breath, but she embraced her still, knowing it was what she needed.

  She didn’t know how this night would end, but she trusted that Alfie had a plan.

  Even if it was one they wouldn’t all like.

  Lachlan was a great many things to Alfie over the past two decades.

  Friend, at the top of that list. Confidant, another. He had also been a business partner, and the reason the Shelby Firm was what it was today.

  He wasn’t upset that his name wasn’t well known by many—he preferred it that way. He liked to live in the shadows like a ghost, where he could ensure he was able to inflict as much pain and suffering on his enemies without them ever seeing him coming.

  Even in those final days before Alfie had found it imperative to escape London and the life he’d led there, he still hadn’t hated Lachlan, even as he hadn’t agreed with just how far off the ledge he’d jumped.

  But now … now Alfie didn’t know what to feel.

  This, he thought, was the closest he had ever come to unabridged fury. To hate.

  He wanted to take his fucking head off without thinking twice about it. He wanted to act as rash and bloodthirsty as he accused Lachlan of being all his fucking life.

  But when the urge came over him, he saw Feather’s face in his mind. The fear she’d felt when he had his gun pointed at Lachlan’s face. She couldn’t have seen the way he smiled with bloodstained teeth as he stared at his impending death.

  Or maybe she had, and she didn’t care. Maybe she saw something else in that fucking psychopath that he would never understand.

  It was because of her that Lachlan hadn’t died that day, but just because he couldn’t kill him didn’t mean this was done.

  Alfie might have made it a point to bend some rules and outright break others, but there was a code among brothers. One that was ironclad and forged in fucking steel.

  Lachlan broke that, and before Alfie finished with him, he would answer for that.

  The only remaining question was just how he would make him answer for that.

  He’d made his sister a promise, and until he had no other choice, he intended to keep it.

  Alfie knew before he had ever stepped onto the plane—and if he was honest with himself, it had been from the moment Lachlan appeared in New York—that this was how this would end.

  Back when he was younger and more foolish, he could get away with acting like a little shit. Doing what he wanted and not giving a fuck about consequences and the hurt he caused others.

  Now, he had too much to lose.

  And after spending the past five years rebuilding his business in another city, another country, he couldn't afford to fuck that up again.

  Missy tended the bar, a nervous expression on her weathered face as she cleaned glasses. Her furtive gaze drifted to the door every few seconds as if she knew what danger was coming, and she wasn't prepared for it.

  It didn't matter that he had promised to cover any damage her pub might, and probably would, sustain.

  Repairs were the last thing she was worried about, considering the man Alfie had invited here had a tendency to shoot first without asking questions. There wouldn't be anything to fix if she was dead.

  But Alfie had ensured, as best he could, that it wouldn't come to that—at least for the faces he was familiar with.

  The officers of Scotland Yard, on the other hand ... he'd advised they all wear a vest.

  Headlights briefly illuminated the interior of the pub, so bright it momentarily rendered everyone inside speechless.

  Unease sat heavily in the air, and Alfie could only imagine most remained seated because he was there. Because he was the one who could usually wrangle Lachlan and keep him from doing anything stupid. It was only ever when Lachlan was alone that people needed to worry.

  But his time was up.

  A few minutes later, the doors to the pub burst open as Lachlan walked through, the heavy thump of his boots sounding with each step he took.

  "Tequila," he called to Missy. "The bottle'll do."

  He didn't wait for a response before walking over to Alfie's table.

  "Where's the missus?" Lachlan asked as he pulled up a chair. "Figured you wouldn't want her out of your sight."

  Alfie tapped his cigarette against the ashtray sitting in the center of the table. "Why's that, Lachlan?"

  "Just saying," he returned with his hands raised. "Wouldn't want anything to happen to her? Bad times we're living in, mate. Bad times."

  Alfie checked the impulse to reach into his pocket for his mobile to send off a text just to ensure Vera was where he'd left her, and nothing was out of the ordinary, but Big Al was with her, and the man was loyal to a fault. Should anyone come around, familiar face or not, his mobile would be ringing.

  "That's the thing, though, isn't it?" he said, finally meeting Lachlan's gaze as he reached for his pint of Guinness. “Times aren't bad anymore. I made sure of that."

  "No, I guess not," Lachlan returned with a sharp smile, his eyes flat. "Not for you anyway. While I was away, you built something nice for yourself. The business, the lass. You have it all. Looks like you forgot about me, Alfie. That hurts, mate. Really does."

  "I told you to leave the Clearys be, didn't I?" he asked, forgetting about the script he'd set for himself for the night, but nothing ever went according to plan when he was dealing with Lachlan.

  He had the unique talent of bringing out the worst in someone, and they never realized what was happening until it was too late.

  Lachlan scoffed, waving those words away as if they were nonsense. "Let someone disrespect you once, it's fucking open season. You taught me that, remember? That was the fucking code."

  "Yeah? And what the fuck did his seventeen-year-old daughter do to disrespect you, Lachlan? For fuck's sake, mate. I warned you."

  Anyone else might have shown a hint of remorse about past actions. And considering he had spent five years in prison for manslaughter, one would think he would have learned something by now, but that was too rational.

  Too right thinking.

  Lachlan had never been that.

  "I went over there for that fucking git of a father of hers. I told her to fuck on off somewhere. The men were talking." Lachlan seemed to space as he talked as if he was back during that cold November night when everything had changed.

  When their reign here in London had come to an end.

  "She fucking shot me," he went on a moment later, absently rubbing his shoulder where Alfie remembered the bullet had gone through. "It was reflex."

  Right.

  Reflex.

  A girl foolishly trying to protect her family, and as a result, Lachlan had slaughtered them all.

  Alfie still remembered the day the Scotland Yard had picked him up and brought him in. It hadn't mattered that he hadn't been around for the murders. He was guilty by association, and they'd used the Cleary family's death to take down the Firm, and it had worked perfectly.

  "And Feather?" Alfie asked, grinding out his cigarette. "Was that just your way of fucking with me?"

  He expected Lachlan's smile to grow. To see a hint of the savage man he had always been.

  But he only saw a hint of ... remorse. "That was ... she isn’t ... it wasn't planned. Had nothing to do with you, mate."

  Alfie wanted to believe that. That Lachlan wasn't so much of a bastard that he would drag Feather into his bullshit, but he couldn't be sure.

  "Is that what this whole bit is about?" he asked, mood doing a complete one-eighty. "You've brought me here to keep me away from Feather?"

  "Part of it, yeah," Alfie responded honestly.

  He doubted he would ever be okay with any man who Feather brought home. She was his little sister, after all. One of the three women in the entire world who he would move heaven and earth for.

  The last person he wanted for Feather was a bastard like Lachlan.

  "She's been through enough, hasn't she?" Alfie asked, not needing to elaborate for him to know what he meant.

  Growing up here, it had been no secret who they had for a father and how he had happily, and quite easily, ignored their existence for years because it made it easier for his wife. It didn't matter that they were innocents and hadn't deserved the man's scorn.

  Alfie had only let it bother him for a short while before he got over it. Feather never had.

  "D'you think you're the only one who can change, Alfie?"

  "Doesn't matter what I think. It's what I fucking see, innit? You fucking decapitated a man, Lachlan. More shit I have to clean up."

  "I merely did what you were thinking."

  Which was why this couldn't go on any longer. "The last of your sentence is on appeal, isn't it?"

  Lachlan's mouth had fallen open as if he'd been ready to speak before Alfie's question shut him up. And while he could be accused of many things, stupid wasn't one of them.

  "What of it?"

  "I can't put you in the ground, Lachlan," he said with a brief shake of his head, "but until I decide how to handle you, I need you to stay put."

  "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

  His gaze was drawn to the doors of the pub as they came open once more, the bell sounding. The two uniforms standing there already looked weary, and they hadn't come alone. Smart, considering the man they had come here for.

  Lachlan wouldn't go without a fight unless he was outnumbered.

  And even then ... it was up in the air how he would respond.

  "Part of that stipulation was that you don't leave the country. I'n't that right?"

  "You fucking didn't." His rage overtook him slowly, from the tightening of his fists to the flames sparking in his eyes. "Tell me you fucking didn't."

  "Time you go away for a bit, mate."

  Lachlan exploded out of his chair, sending others scrambling in the opposite direction, but Alfie remained seated, staring at him with impassive eyes.

  The officers caught him, swarming him before he could reach Alfie.

  Maybe he would regret this later.

  Maybe.

  But for now, it was all he could do.

  Chapter 20

  It was disconcerting to sit on this side of the table for once, but Alfie couldn't say he minded. If there was one thing about his former life here in London, he definitely didn't miss prison.

  He ignored the glances in his direction from guards he hadn't seen in over five years. It was clear they still remembered him, though, in his recent years, he had turned over a new leaf and was a new man.

  Mostly.

  Reclining back as much as he could in the uncomfortable folding chair, he waited, his gaze trained on the door, waiting for the moment when the familiar face walked through. It had only been a couple of weeks since he had seen the man last, but with the sheer amount of anarchy he could cause in such a short period, two weeks felt like a lifetime.

  A few minutes passed before a guard Alfie didn't recognize appeared in the doorway of the room moments before Lachlan appeared in his jumpsuit, his hands shackled in front of him, the chain looping his wrists and ankles.

  For a man staring down a five-year prison sentence, he looked pretty fucking pleased as he started toward Alfie's table, his smile growing with every step he took.

  "And to think I thought you wouldn't have the stones to show your face in here," Lachlan said as he pulled out the chair opposite Alfie, the legs scraping across the floor before he dropped himself into it.

  He didn't rise to the bait. "On my way out. Thought I'd drop by and pay you one last visit."

  "Can't say it'll be the last, can we? We're family," he said, and for a moment, that careless smile on his face slipped, his expression becoming more serious.

  Alfie didn't need the reminder.

  And had it been anyone else, he might not have cared as much about a child growing up without a father. He still wasn't sure, even now, just what kind of father Lachlan would make.

  But promises were promises, and he was bound by the one he'd made ... for now.

  Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the table, remembering that his being there was only temporary, and he didn't need to do anything that would get him a permanent stay.

  Lachlan wasn’t worth that.

  “I promised my sister for the sake of her baby that I wouldn’t take your head.” Alfie tapped his knuckles against the table. “That doesn’t make us family.”

  And it never would.

  He’d betrayed his trust, gone behind his back, and stirred up trouble Alfie didn’t need, and above all else, he’d destroyed any hint of fraternal bond between them when he slept with his sister.

  Some things were unforgivable.

  Lachlan’s entire expression changed at the mention of Feather. His face wiped clean.

  Alfie knew she had come to visit him, and even knew that despite Lachlan’s general unpleasantness, she had still left the prison in good spirits with a smile on her face.

  What she possibly saw in him, Alfie would never fucking understand.

  “We’ll always be family, mate,” he said, and it was almost as if someone else completely was talking to him with the way Lachlan’s entire demeanor shifted.

  Alfie had never thought much of it when they were just a couple of bastards trying to make a way for themselves, but now he saw it for what it was.

  Lachlan wasn’t … rational. He didn’t process things the way an average person would. He saw the worst in people and exploited it for everything it was worth. He thrived on chaos and fear and anarchy.

  “Then understand me, Lachlan,” Alfie said, leaning toward him. “Get your fucking shit together because the second you become another problem to me, Feather won’t be able to save you from me. You get me?”

  For just a moment, Lachlan looked as if he was seconds from lurching across the table and reacting violently. As if he was already picturing the moment he would try to put Alfie’s head through the table, but as quickly as that streak of violence lit up his gaze, he settled once more.

  “Be seeing you, Alfie, yeah?”

  Without another word, Alfie stood and turned his back, walking out the way he’d come in. This wasn’t over between him and Lachlan, not even a little, but for the time being, he had another two years before he had to worry about it again.

  “He still has friends in high places,” Feather said, worrying over her bowl of porridge. “If he wanted, he could have something done to Lock without ever lifting a finger.”

  Vera bit her lip, wishing she had the right words to say to her, but she was unable to think of anything, so she remained silent.

  In part because she did know that Alfie could be a little intense when it came to the people he loved, and also because she had no idea what he would do especially because it was Lachlan they were talking about.

  And while she might not have gotten off on the right foot with the man, she knew this was a complicated situation all around.

  She still remembered quite vividly how Alfie had taken his cane to Camden’s friend’s face after the incident at the restaurant.

  She also remembered how Lachlan had responded when he thought that Camden was disrespecting Alfie.

  They were the same, though she hadn’t thought as much until the two got together.

  “Alfie always keeps his promises,” she settled on saying, the only words of encouragement she could offer. “If he said he would not hurt him, he won’t.”

  “You should listen to Vera,” Yana said as she joined them in the kitchen. “Alfie’s a good boy.”