I Kidnapped the Mafia Heir, and He Never Tried to Escape novel · Chapter 21 of 24

Chapter 21: On His Knees

Mal's POV

The road under the bridge was wet, and the cold of it came straight through my trousers.

I did not feel it.

I knelt on the asphalt in the headlights of forty cars, with the state police coming over the ramp and my father in his chair behind me.

I looked up at a woman five foot four with a braid and a chipped tooth.

She had a knife taped to her forearm.

She was looking down at me with her mouth open.

"Mal," she said. "Get up."

"No."

"There are cops," she said.

"I know."

I had been taught, since I could walk, that a Murtagh does not kneel.

My father had never knelt to the Archbishop.

I'd been in rooms with men who would have shot me for this, and I found that my voice, when it came, was steady.

"My uncle killed your father with the Murtagh name on the car," I said. "I knew for three weeks, and I kept it from you. That was mine to carry, and I carried it badly."

Around us, nobody breathed.

"The Murtagh name has been used on this city for sixty years to take things from people. Tonight I give some of it back. Any door in Boston that opens to a Murtagh opens to Roisin Culhane. Any man who raises a hand to a Culhane answers to every crew in the Hall, and to me, first."

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