Chapter 26: Crown of Smoke: Chapter 26

I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince myself that staying away from Lucy is the right call. The memory of her face when she realized who I really am haunts me. That look of betrayal, of fear… It guts me.

Ash is right. Love is a liability we can’t afford right now. Look what happened with Megan. My brother hasn’t been the same since she died in our family home. I won’t—can’t—let that happen with Lucy. The Keans would use her against me in a heartbeat if they knew what she meant to me.

The truth is, I’ve already compromised everything by letting her get close. By wanting her. By needing her. Each time I close my eyes, she’s there—her blonde hair fanned across my pillow, those questioning blue eyes boring into mine, asking me who I really am.

Sleep doesn’t come easily these days. When it does, my dreams are filled with her—the way she gasped my name… well, Flynn, that night in her bathtub, how perfectly she fit against me in the fight club bathroom stall, the softness of her skin under my hands. But the dreams always end the same way, with that look of horror on her face when Marshall spoke my real name.

I roll over, punching my pillow. Ash dealt with his loss by shutting down completely. Maybe he had the right idea. These feelings, this weakness for Lucy, could get us all killed. The mission has to come first. The Keans need to pay for what they did to our family.

But even as I tell myself this, I know it’s bullshit. Lucy’s already under my skin, and no amount of distance is going to change that.

The sun’s barely up when I head to Phoenix’s place for our morning meeting. It’s time to regroup now that we know the Keans are clueless about Lucy.

I grab coffee and join my brothers.

Blaise slides a folder across the table. ‘I’ve been tracking Hampton Kean’s finances. It’s amazing how he just took over Dad’s accounts and didn’t move them.”

“I think he secretly wanted to be Dad,” Phoenix says.

“That makes it easy to find a way in to fuck with him.” Ash glances at the papers Blaise set out.

“But it exposes Dad… us if we take over,” I say.

This is what matters. Not Lucy. Not the way my chest hurts when I think about her. The mission. Taking down the Keans. Making them pay for what they did to our family.

I catch Ash and Phoenix exchanging a look—relief, maybe. They’ve been walking on eggshells since the Marshall incident. Hell, before that. They’ve all been worried I’d let my feelings for Lucy compromise everything we’ve worked for.

‘I’ve got another fight tonight,’ I add. ‘Some of them are pretty chatty.”

“I don’t know.” Phoenix’s blue eyes study me, and I try not to squirm. “Might be best if you lay low for a while.”

“Why? They’ve pinned Marshall’s death on a mugger or one of Kean’s men. There’s been no mention of me.” I never mentioned my run in with O’Brian and Connor the other night as I know for sure that would have Phoenix pulling me out. But I need to fight. I need something to rid myself of the anger and pain coursing through me. Something to give me peace from thoughts of Lucy.

“What if the journalist shows up?” Blaise purses his lips at me. “When she’s around, you can’t think of anything but her.”

Even when she’s not around, I think but don’t say.

“She won’t.” Of course, I have no idea whether she’ll show, but I doubt it. Her story won’t be found at the fights. The only reason for her to go is to see me, and I know she doesn’t want that. “Besides, I made it to the next round. It might be more suspicious if I don’t show up.”

Phoenix nods approvingly. This is what they want to see—their brother focused, strategic, not distracted by a woman who could bring everything crashing down.

“By the way, your old buddy O’Brian’s missing,’ Blaise announces.

My gaze jerks to him. “What?”

“Was it you?”

My jaw drops. “No.” I look at my brothers, wondering if they all suspect me. I lift my arms in surrender as I realize they do. “I swear to God, it wasn’t me. If I were going to kill him, I’d have done it that night in the alley when…” I don’t finish, not wanting to bring up Lucy’s name.

Blaise laughs. “Must be me, then.”

All eyes turn to him.

“Not that I killed him. But I did start the rumor that he killed Marshall.”

I lean back in my chair. ‘Good riddance.’ I think about O’Brian, probably lying in some ditch or at the bottom of the harbor. I should feel something—guilt, regret, something. But all I remember is how many lives he ruined, how many women he hurt. His hands on Lucy… The world’s better off without him.

“It appears that the Keans are cleaning house,” Blaise says.

‘They’re spooked,’ Phoenix agrees. ‘Which means they’ll be watching everyone closer now. Including you, Flint. Those fights you’ve been winning have put you in their spotlight.’

Fuck, is he going to try and pull me out again? ‘Let them watch. They see what they want to see, just another street fighter trying to make a few bucks.’

‘We do need to be more careful,’ Ash says, glancing at me. ‘No more improvising. No more unexpected deaths. We stick to the plan.’

I nod. “Don’t need to worry about me.”

‘The Keans being paranoid works in our favor.’ Phoenix scratches his chin. ‘It appears they’re suspecting their own people.’

‘We could use that.’ I lean forward. ‘Maybe Blaise can use his mad rumor starting skills to make them think someone inside is working against them.’

“You are on the inside working against them,” Ash says.

“Nah. I’m on the periphery. I mean like a soldier or associate. Someone in the family.”

“Not Ronan,” Blaise says. “He’s a mini-Hampton.”

“What about Kiera—” I start to offer.

“No.” Phoenix’s voice is sharp, making the rest of us flinch and look up at him in surprise.

“No women and children.”

“They didn’t show us that mercy.” Ash’s eyes blaze with fury, and I know he’s not just thinking of our mom, but of Megan as well.

“We’re not them.” Phoenix’s words are final. No discussion. And he’s right. I wonder what Lucy would think if she were here and seeing that we did have some values.

Blaise’s eyes light up with that dangerous gleam I recognize from childhood pranks. ‘I can forge some documents showing unauthorized withdrawals from their accounts. Make it look like someone’s skimming.’

‘Focus on the newer recruits,’ Ash adds. ‘The ones Hampton doesn’t know well enough to trust completely.’

We quickly get back into a familiar rhythm of plotting, and it’s nice. I feel normal for the first time in a while.

‘Remember when we used to plan elaborate schemes to steal Mrs. Cramer’s cookies?’ Blaise grins, and for a moment, I see the kid he used to be.

‘And she always knew it was us.’ I chuckle. ‘But she’d leave extras out, anyway.’

Phoenix’s stern expression softens slightly. ‘The Keans won’t be as forgiving as Mrs. Cramer.’

‘That’s the point.’ Ash taps the table. ‘They’ll tear themselves apart looking for traitors. And while they’re distracted…’

‘We’ll be the least of their concerns,’ I finish.

Later that evening, I head to the fight feeling rejuvenated and ready to kick some serious ass. As I warm up, I listen for gossip from others in the area. Phoenix is right about their being spooked. Word on the street is Hampton’s calling in favors, tightening security. Marshall’s death hit them harder than I’d have expected. Good. Let them scramble.

My phone buzzes. A text from Blaise.

Ronan’s there tonight. Watch your back. Could be he’s suspicious.

I delete the message immediately. Having Ronan there complicates things. He’s unpredictable, violent, and he might remember what I looked like before the fire. We spent time together as kids when our parents were on friendlier terms.

But I’m not too worried about why he’s there. The fights are his baby. He’s as thirsty as me. The difference is he’s not willing to mess up his million-dollar manicure.

His presence also means others in the inner circle will show up. Perfect opportunity to listen in and gain more intel.

I refocus on my warmup, knowing that I need to do well to prove to my brothers that my head is back in the game. I roll my shoulders, letting the familiar pre-fight tension build. Tonight isn’t about winning the match. It’s about proving to my brothers—and myself—that I haven’t lost sight of what matters.

“Hey, didn’t you kick O’Brian’s ass?” Murphey, the fighter I’d spoken to before, asks.

“Maybe.”

“He’s missing. You have something to do with it?”

I shake my head. “No. Probably an angry husband pissed that O’Brian couldn’t keep his hands to himself.”

“Yeah, well, some people think maybe it was you.”

It occurs to me that when I beat up O’Brian and his friends, I didn’t just save Lucy. I made a mockery of him and Kean’s crew. Something that wouldn’t sit well with them. I’m sure they’ve tried to keep it quiet because it makes them look like pussies. O’Brian’s disappearance could be complicating things for me.

Maybe I should have joined them when asked because now they’re watching me closer. The Keans don’t trust outsiders who won’t fully commit to their organization. And they definitely don’t trust fighters who humiliate their crew.

“I do all my fighting in the ring as long as people keep their hands off what’s mine.”

‘Ready to get your ass kicked, Tine?’ someone calls out.

I smile at Murphey. “That’s my cue.” I trot to the ring and climb through the ropes, taking in the roar of the crowd.

My opponent, a stocky bruiser they call Tank, paces at the other end of the ring. He’s shorter than me but built like a brick wall. Nothing I can’t handle. I’ve taken down bigger guys.

The ref—if you can call him that in this illegal fighting ring—signals us forward. Tank’s eyes gleam with something that sets off warning bells, but before I can process why, the bell rings.

I dodge his first swing, catching a whiff on an acrid smell of chemicals. Before I can make my move, pain explodes in my eyes as his knuckles graze my cheek. What the fuck? He’s barely touched me, but my eyes burn like a motherfucker.

Then it comes to me. Mace. The bastard coated his wraps with pepper spray.

My vision blurs instantly, tears streaming down my face. I try to blink through it, but the burning is overwhelming. Tank’s fist connects with my jaw, sending me staggering back.

‘Not so tough now, are you?’ Tank sneers, landing another hit to my ribs.

I raise my guard, trying to rely on sound and instinct, but it’s useless. Every time I manage to block a punch, two more slip through. The crowd’s roaring drowns out any chance of tracking his movement by sound.

Another hit catches me in the jaw. I taste blood. Through the haze of pain and chemicals, one thought crystallizes. This isn’t just a fight—it’s a message. But who is it for? Flynn Tine and payback for O’Brian? Or Flint Ifrinn? Do they know who I really am?

Tank’s fist crashes into my gut, driving the air from my lungs. I stumble back and try to work out how I can survive this because I’m sure the Keans don’t plan on my leaving this warehouse alive tonight.

The ropes hit my back. I’ve run out of room to retreat. Another blow rocks my head back. Blood fills my mouth. Through my chemical-burned eyes, the warehouse lights blur into a nauseating swirl. I can barely make out Tank’s shape as he closes in.

I throw a wild punch, but he easily slips it. His answering shot to my ribs sends white-hot pain through my chest. Definitely cracked something.

‘I don’t know what all the talk was about. You’re a fucking pussy,” Tank sneers, delivering another blow.

My knees buckle. The crowd’s roaring turns distant, like I’m underwater. I try to raise my hands, the instinct to protect myself, but my arms feel like lead weights.

Tank grabs my throat, pinning me against the floor. ‘The Keans don’t like outsiders who don’t know their place.’

Okay, so I don’t think they know that I’m Flint Ifrinn, but I guess it won’t matter because I’m still going to die. Fuck. I wish I’d told Lucy I loved her. Not that she’d care, but I think it would have been nice to say it to her. I never felt love before. And now I won’t have the chance to express it.

My vision darkens at the edges as his grip tightens. Through the haze of pain, the last thing I see is Tank pulling back his fist for what promises to be a death blow. Then there’s nothing.