Breakers: Chapter 22

Pen

“Thanks for dropping me back, Beast,” I say, leaning my head against the headrest as Beast drives me home to the Academy. My muscles are aching from the rehearsal, but in a good way. The girls were amazing, and we’ve got the routine down.

“Grim told me your boys are at Rocks tonight with that prick, Jeb.”

“Yep. He’s got them there on business,” I reply, finger quoting the air. “I fucking hate him so much.”

“Yeah, I bet. He’s always been a prick. The little cocksucker needs to be put down, but now ain’t the time apparently.”

I nod my head, glancing over at Beast who is gritting his jaw and looking a little less cocksure than normal. “Everything alright?” I ask him.

He glances over at me, giving me a wink that is as fake as his smile. “Yep, fine and fucking dandy.”

“You sure about that?”

“Actually, I could use a drink. Fancy a quick detour?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, the guys…”

“Pen, not being funny, but you’re your own person, right? I’m your friend. I’ve also made myself perfectly clear to your Breakers that I only have eyes for my missus. Frankly, she’s all I can manage.” He grins then, winking at me.

“Yeah, but how would Grim feel about you grabbing a drink with me? I really like and respect Grim. I do not want to piss her off.”

“I may act like an idiot sometimes, but I ain’t stupid. I already said I was gonna grab a drink with you. Grim’s cool with it.”

“She is?” Something in my voice must sound uncertain because Beast chuckles.

“Yep, she is. Grim is normally pretty fucking possessive, but the fact that she’s okay with us being friends says a lot about you. She trusts you, likes you. That doesn’t happen very often.”

“I like her too.”

“Besides, Grim has been best friends with a rich, good looking, millionaire for years now. She often goes out for drinks with Hud and I don’t bat an eye—”

“Woah, I’m not being used as some kind of pawn in your tit-for-tat game!” I exclaim, raising my eyebrows at him.

“Chill, Pen. I’m not a man who plays games. Truth is, I needed an excuse to visit this pub tonight…”

His voice trails off and I give him a quizzical look. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I hope. Just crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s.”

“Should I be worrying?”

“Nope. Got it all in hand.”

“Got what in hand?”

Beast glances at me and rolls his eyes like I’m making a big deal out of nothing, but I’m not an idiot, I can see how tightly he grasps the steering wheel. Something’s up.

“Beast?”

“There’s been some whispers about The Masks. I wanted to check in on some acquaintances, see what they’ve heard. They’re in town tonight.”

“Shit.”

“Don’t fret it, sweetheart,” Beast says, indicating left before he takes the turn. Two minutes later, he pulls up outside a small Irish pub just off Hackney’s main high street. I raise a brow at the dirty looking pub. “I know the owners. The O’Briens and I go way back.”

“It’s past one in the morning, aren’t pubs supposed to close at midnight?”

“Like I said, I know the owners, and I happen to know they’ve got a lock-in going on tonight.”

“Cool. I guess we get a drink then?”

We jump out of the car and head into a side entrance of the pub. Inside of The Noble Arms is just like the outside. Frankly, it could use a lick of paint and a thorough cleaning, but the half a dozen men who are still inside the pub don’t seem to mind as they sit at a round table playing a game of what looks like Blackjack.

“Beast, how are ye?” A heavily accented voice says from the table. The beautiful Irish accent belongs to a middle-aged man with thick black hair and deep blue eyes.

“Good. Are you doing well, Col?”

“As well as can be expected,” he replies, before returning to his game. None of the other men even bother to look up from their cards. I’m not sure if that’s an insult or a compliment. Around us the air hangs thick with cigarette smoke that only adds more of a yellow stain to the mustard-coloured walls. The stale smell of beer, with an undercurrent of dried blood, makes me want to choke. I cough into my hand and Beast looks down at me, pulling a face.

“We won’t be long, promise,” he says, guiding me over to the bar. Ever the gentleman, he pulls out a bar stool for me to sit on. Standing up from behind the bar an older man in his late forties, with salt and pepper hair and the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, surprises me.

“Shit!” I exclaim, almost having a heart attack as he gives me a quick once over before he flicks his gaze to Beast and clasps his outstretched hand, giving it a shake.

“Good to see you, Beast!” the man replies with a heavy Irish accent.

“And you, Tom. Is Arden here yet?”

“Downstairs. I’ll fetch him in a bit. What can I get you?”

“A drink for my friend. Whatever she wants,” Beast says.

“Coming right up. What would you like to drink, álainn?” Tom replies, giving me a once-over. I shift uncomfortably on my chair at his assessing gaze. “It means beautiful.”

Beast notices how uncomfortable I am and steps in. “This is Pen. She’s a friend of mine and Grim’s and she’s taken, so stop with the flattery.”

Tom grins. “You can’t help a man for trying.”

“Pen is working at Tales as our new dancer, you might’ve heard of her…?”

Tom turns his attention back to me, his assessing gaze turning into one of mirth. “Well, shit. You’re the girl that’s got everyone in a tizzy, huh?”

“A tizzy?” I reply, holding in a nervous laugh.

“Believe me, Tom, this one gets every man with half a cock in a tizzy. She’s like one of those Aos Si you fuckers are always going on about.”

“Aos Si?” I ask, bewildered.

“Fairies,” Tom explains, pointing to a brass fairy sitting above the row of bottles behind him. “They may be small, but they sure are mighty and not to be fucked with…”

“Exactly,” Beast replies, dropping his hand on my shoulder and squeezing. “Pen ain’t no wilting flower, that’s for sure. She’s got a lot of people looking out for her too. Catch my drift?

Tom nods, getting the message loud and clear. “So, what can I get you to drink, Pen?” he asks me.

“Just a lemonade, please.”

“And I’ll have a pint of Guinness,” Beast adds.

“Coming up. It’s good to see you, Beast. Connall’s missed you.”

“The fucker is back? He didn’t fucking mention that,” Beast says, a little prickly.

“Yep, yesterday. I reckon he’s balls deep in Siobhan right about now, so you can cut him some slack,” Tom replies with a chuckle.

Beast laughs. “Yeah, okay. Point taken.”

I look between the two, bewildered by their conversation. I’ve no idea who these people are. Then again, I don’t need to know. These are Beast’s friends, not mine. I take a sip of my lemonade and sit patiently whilst they chat for the next few minutes like a couple of housewives with nothing better to do. My phone buzzes and I take it out, clicking on the message.

A moment later my phone rings. “Shit, Xeno’s calling,” I say, pulling a face.

Beast and Tom glance over at me. Tom pushes back from the counter, knocks back a finger of whiskey then heads towards the end of the bar. “Let me go fetch Arden for you. He’s downstairs with Carrick and Lorcan. I’m guessing you need to make this quick?”

“Grand,” Beast replies, slipping into an Irish accent that makes me almost choke on my lemonade before turning to me and snatching my phone from my hands. “I’ll deal with this.”

“Beast, I’m not sure…”

Too late. I pull a face as Beast scolds Xeno.

“Calm your tits, Xeno. Pen is safe. Arden and the O’Briens are friends. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’ll have her safely home in half an hour max.”

“Beast, give me the phone back,” I hiss, trying to snatch it from him, but he just winks at me and moves out of my reach.

“I’ll fill you in on what I find out. Just deal with your shit, and I’ll deal with mine. Alright? Here’s your girl,” he says, then hands me back the phone.

“Pen. Call me the second you’re out of the pub. Got it?!” Xeno snaps out in a rush.

“Got it. Jeez stop being dramatic,” I whisper-shout into the mouthpiece.

“I’m not. Arden isn’t someone you fuck with—”

“I wasn’t planning on fucking with anyone,” I retort, with probably a little too much sass given the delight in Beast’s eyes and the growl coming from Xeno.

“Just call me. I gotta go!”

“Fine. Bye.”

“I love you,” Xeno snaps out in a rush, then the line goes dead.

“He loves you, eh?” Beast says, raising an eyebrow.

“You heard that?” I ask, tucking the phone away.

“Hard not too when he practically roared it down the phone. Did no one teach him how to woo a woman the right way?”

“You’re such a plum,” I say, and he nudges me playfully with his rather large elbow, then focuses his attention on the guys playing Blackjack by studying them in the mirror behind the bar. The laughter dies in his eyes and he seems to tense up just a little.

“Ever heard of the O’Briens?” Beast asks me, his voice low.

“No? Should I have?”

“Tom’s family owns this pub. He’s an O’Brien and the eldest of five brothers. His other four brothers have pubs dotted around London. The guys behind us are Tom’s men.”

“His men?”

“Yeah, they work for him. Keep Tom and his young family safe.”

“Safe, from who?”

“Their rivals. The O’Farrell’s. They’ve a long history of bloodshed. Ain’t pretty.”

“Do the O’Farrell’s own pubs in London too?”

Beast shakes his head. “Nope. They’re back in Ireland. Kilkenny. The O’Brien’s moved here when the O’Farrell’s took their land and their business in a bitter war over a hundred years ago. They’ve been enemies ever since.”

“Shit, that’s a long time.”

“Yep. Every now and then things blow up between the families. Last time was twenty years ago. Tom’s younger sister, Aoife, fell in love with Niall, who happens to be the oldest brother, and leader of the O’Farrell’s. He got her knocked up, then married her and hid her away on his estate in Ireland. Four years later the families clashed in an epic fight.”

“What happened?”

“Aoife was killed in the crossfire, leaving their daughter motherless. Both sides have been wanting revenge ever since, blaming each other for Aoife’s death. Fucked up if you ask me,” he mutters.

“Poor kid.”

“Not a kid anymore. She’s gotta be around twenty-three now. According to the whispers she’s a rare beauty but damaged. She witnessed the bloodshed. Is mute. That’s about as much as I know.”

“Fuck! So how do you know so much about their story?” I ask, sipping on my lemonade.

“Connall, Tom’s younger brother, is my best mate. Though I ain’t seen him for a few months. He’s been dealing with business abroad.”

“Ah! So your best mate, Tom’s brother, is the one currently balls deep in Siobhan?” I ask, smirking a little.

“I don’t blame him. If I was away from Grim for that long I’d be doing the same.”

“Okay, so who’s Arden? Is he another friend of yours? Xeno wasn’t too happy that I’m here under the same roof as him. Should I be worried? Is he the one who might have heard something about The Masks?”

Beast regards me. “Full of questions tonight, ain’t ya?”

“Just making sure I know what’s going on. You can hardly blame me. I’m already deep into my own shit, I don’t really need any more.”

“Arden Dálaigh is a member of the Dálaigh family. They’re Irish travellers. Tough, fierce and not to be fucked with. The O’Briens and the Dálaigh family are tight. Arden is well known in the underground fight scene and his best mates, Carrik O’Shea and Lorcan Sheehan, fight alongside him. They come as a trio. Travel together all over Europe. They know things. Have seen the darkest parts of this world and survived them. Even for my standards those kids are legends.”

“Kids? How old are we talking exactly?”

“No more than twenty-four. Though I swear to fuck, you look them in the eye and those fuckers are older than time itself. Everyone respects them. Everyone. The O’Farrells included.”

“And you it would seem?” I say, surprised by the flicker of fear in his eyes.

“I might mouth off, Pen, but I know when I’ve met my match.”

“Fuucckkkk!” I exclaim. These guys must be fierce if Beast thinks they’re his betters.

“They’re known as The Deana-dhe.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s an Irish term for butterfly,” a velvety smooth, Irish accent responds.

Butterfly? I almost laugh, then swallow it down when my gaze settles on the man with eyes so piercing, they rival York’s. Except where York has fire within his icy-blue depths, there’s nothing but ice in this man’s amber orbs. His gaze flicks to me then Beast as he brushes his thick black hair back off his forehead.

“Arden. Good to see you again,” Beast replies, twisting in his seat and holding his hand out for him to shake. Standing either side of Arden are two men, both of whom are extremely attractive in a lethal kind of way. Lethal like a panther before it pounces, or a shark before it bites. All three have a large butterfly tattooed on the front of their necks, the colourful wings wrapping up and around their Adam’s apples but that’s where their similarity ends.

Arden takes Beast’s hand and shakes it. “These are my brothers, Carrick and Lorcan,” Arden says, presumably more for my benefit than Beasts, given he already knows who they are.

“I’m Pen,” I reply, looking between them.

“The girl who dances for Grim?” the man to Arden’s left responds, Carrick. He’s taller than Arden by an inch, broader and his eyes are darker than Zayn’s. So black they look almost demonic. He cocks his head to the side, his light-brown hair reaching his shoulders. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“That’s right,” Beast confirms, and I can’t help but notice how he angles his body slightly in front of me.

“You killed The Collector for this one…?” Lorcan asks, he looks at me unimpressed, his strange grey eyes flicking over me briefly. The colour of his eyes matches his silver hair. I can’t work out if it’s dyed or natural, either way I don’t fucking like him. Any of them actually. They’ve got a weird vibe.

“Yes.”

“And you want to know what we’ve heard?”

“Tom told me you were in town. I figured if anyone knew about what they’re up to, you would.”

Arden nods, accepting a drink from Tom who’s returned to his spot behind the bar.

“The Masks haven’t left the castle, that I do know,” Arden confirms.

Beast’s shoulders relax. “Good.”

Carrick snorts knocking back a three-fingered shot of something dark brown, rum maybe? “The Masks never leave their castle. Doesn’t mean to say you’re safe. Far from it. I suggest you keep your head to the ground and eyes sharp. Watch your backs. The Masks are their father’s sons, after all.”

“Got it,” Beast replies, his jaw clenching.

Lorcan settles his stormy grey eyes on me before flicking his gaze to Beast. “Don’t underestimate The Masks, they’ll steal from you what you hold dear the most.” A prickle runs down my spine at his words, at the look he gives us both.

Silence stretches out between us, until finally Tom speaks. “Well, it’s probably time you got Pen home, yes?” he says pointedly.

Beast nods, reaching for me. He places a hand firmly on my lower back. “Yeah. Thank you for your time. I appreciate it.”

We leave the pub and get into Beast’s car. I turn to look at him, my mouth popping open. “I have so many questions.”

“None of which I can answer, but I can tell you this. The Deana-dhe are legends in the Irish community. Some would even say they’re gods.”

I snort. “Gods? I’m pretty sure they’re humans like the rest of us. Made of flesh and bone.”

“That’s not something I’d like to test out,” he mutters.

“They seem to know a lot about The Masks…”

“They know a lot about everyone. Grim and I included.”

“Do you believe what they said?”

“Every word,” Beast replies before putting the car into drive and pressing the accelerator.

“Should I be worried?”

“No. You shouldn’t. It’s me and Grim who need to keep our eyes open and our ears to the ground. I shot Malik after all.”

“Beast—”

“Pen. We got this. It’s gonna be cool, okay?”

“Okay,” I mumble, not convinced in the slightest as I pick up my mobile phone and call Xeno as promised.