Binding Rose: A Dark Mafia Romance(9)

“You know that if he could, he would never willingly give you up. You’re his favorite leanbh.”

“I know that, too. Did you come in here to remind me how much you all love me, is that it?”

“Do you need reminding?” I cock a brow.

“No, I don’t. So quit with the heavy talk, and help me close these damn fucking bags.”

I can’t help but laugh at her sass.

“You might want to temper that mouth of yours when you reach Vegas. I’m not sure how the Russians will feel about a woman who curses like a sailor.”

“Tough shit. I’m a Kelly, for fuck’s sake. It’s in my blood, so they better get used to it.”

“I’m positive that you’ll make sure that they do.”

With my apprehension subsided somewhat, I help her close her suitcases but leave the carry-on open.

“I have something for you.”

“More pearls of wisdom?” She rolls her eyes.

“No, nothing like that. A wedding gift. Since I won’t be able to be there on your big day, I thought I should give you my gift now.”

Without another word, I hand her the small package I had hidden away inside my jacket pocket. She doesn’t complain that it’s not gift-wrapped, or that it doesn’t have a pretty bow on it. That would be too girlish for Iris anyway. She’s never been one to like frilly things, especially since my baby sister has always been a tomboy at heart.

When she opens the box, her eyes shine in utter awe at the push dagger I had custom-made for her inside the blue velvet casing. I made sure to request that the blade be small enough for Iris to easily hide in her palm, but lethal enough that she can slice any throat with it. And the pièce de résistance, the Kelly family crest embossed on the handle. If there is ever an occasion that she feels the need to use it, I want her to remember the blood that runs through her veins to embolden her resolve.

Kellys never run from a fight.

We end them.

“It’s… it’s beautiful,” she whispers, true emotion coating each word.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I more than like it. I love it!” she exclaims with glee, wrapping her arms around my waist and placing her cheek against my chest.

I hold her tightly, inhaling her free-spirit essence and committing it to memory.

Who knows when will be the next time I even see her?

Or even be able to hold her in my arms like this?

When I hear a little sniffle, the fist that has had my heart squeezed into a pulp all morning gives another painful tug. Iris isn’t the type to cry or get emotional. She’s always made sure never to show such weakness, so to see her this vulnerable, she might as well have used the damn push dagger to cut into my heart and slice it into tiny pieces.

After a few seconds, she finally pulls away, her composure once again hardened steel. I lift her chin up so I can look her in the eyes once more.

“Do you remember everything I taught you?” I ask evenly.

She nods.

“Do you remember everything your teacher has taught you?”

Another nod.

“Good. Remember, Iris, you are strong. Stronger than any of those brutes that you’re about to encounter. But most importantly, you are clever. Lean into your gut. It will keep you safe.”

“You should be giving the Volkovs this advice. Not me.”

I grab her chin, more forcefully this time, to show her this isn’t a game.

“Don’t fuck around, Iris. Those assholes will eat you for breakfast if you let them.”

“You forget, big brother. I have a pretty big appetite, too,” she seethes, her razor sharp gaze never wavering from mine.

“Alexi and his brothers aren’t to be trifled with. They’re not like us. They are animals with no code of honor to speak of. If they want to break you, they will do everything in their power to do so. Don’t make it easy for them.”

She snaps her face away from my grip, her emerald eyes taking on a deeper shade, one that unsettles me.

“I’m a big girl, Tiernan.”

“That you are. Just don’t be a stupid girl.”

She snarls, her nostrils flaring in anger and resentment.

That’s another thing about Iris.

She’s too hot-tempered. Lord knows our parents tried their best to shake that trait out of her, but then again, she wouldn’t be a Kelly if she wasn’t easy to set off.

“Are you done with your little pep talk? I need to get ready for my flight.”

I swipe my hand over my face, hating that this is the last interaction I will have with her—the last memory she’ll have of me.

“Here, let me help,” I say instead of the apology she deserves to hear.

She might as well get used to men who don’t give a fuck about her feelings. If Iris is to survive in Vegas, she needs to start practicing the discipline of hiding her true emotions. Not that I’m worried she won’t be able to pull it off, since acting like we don’t give a fuck, when in reality our blood is boiling, is another family skill passed down through the generations. We can be hot one minute and cold the next. You never know what any of us Kellys are really thinking. We can be laughing and chugging Guinness with you one minute, only to slice you open the next. It keeps everyone on their toes. And frankly, I quite prefer it that way.