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Because I wasn’t an O’Shea Or a Murray, for that matter Our syndicate, the Sons of Munster, revolved around those two families Way back in the day, two men had started a farmer’s militia where ere from in the southwest of Ireland One Murray, one O’Shea My ancestors had joined theht the British there Then we’d helped the Republican Army in the Civil War But as intertwined as our fa kids to a prestigious boarding school in England wasn’t a Ford thing Besides, Shan was right I hadn’t wanted to leave Luna behind

Our parents had never wanted anything to do with the Sons My pop had e He’d been livid without with Finn and Patrick, which I could crack a smile at today Oh man, he’d been furious to the point where he’d just spluttered and turned red A rage he’d later directed at his own father, ’cause it was Grandpa Tadgh who’d encouragedafter

On the other hand, maybe he would’ve shunned me too, once I came out to my closest

I shookof my drink “Your attempt to take me down memory lane won’t work, Shan”

He smirked a little “I’ve barely started Give me a minute”

I snorted and sat back so up Grace won’t do anything either Even her legacy is lost She doesn’t exist anymore”

Shan stiffened in his seat “What makes you say that?”

“Because since we rose froers, Shan,” I replied tiredly “Maybe we’ll look back on today in fifty years and call this just another turf war or vicious vendetta, but I don’t see it The Avellinos wiped out dozens of our low-ement, and I’m balls deep in the recruitment process where I meet kids who’ve barely heard of Grace”

What did a victory mean e’d lost the mates to celebrate it with?

Yeah, sure, we’d killed off the entire Avellino organization—not counting the last sons’a bitches ere chasing in the afterest clients and their caches of s We’d taken everything in a blinding fit of rage after they’d started the war We’d won

It just didn’t feel like it, because they’d taken a piece of our history with them