“The Murtaghs don’t forget a grudge.”
“Yeah, it’s what keeps them young,” Cillian laughs bitterly.
“How can you joke about this?”
“Because if I don’t joke, I may as well bend over and let the world fuck me,” he fires back without hesitation. “And that is not my style.”
I shake my head at him. Even in the face of betrayal and tragedy, he doesn’t change.
He is who he is. True to himself.
The same soul he was when he was a teenager on a rooftop somewhere in Dublin, kissing me and making me promises he swore he would keep.
“Your parents are prisoners of the Kinahan mafia,” I point out. “It’s kind of a serious issue.”
“Not for long,” Cillian says with the kind of conviction that I wish I had. “I’m getting them back. I was actually in the process of doing just that when I stumbled across you in that holding cell.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I kind of derailed your plans, huh?”
He shrugs. “It was worth it.”
“You made things a whole lot more complicated for yourself by breaking me out of there, Cillian.”
“Oh, I’m aware.”
“Still worth it?”
“A hundred percent.”
“Why?”
He hesitates a moment. His eyes find mine and I can tell he’s measuring the weight of his response.
Then he says what he’s thinking.
Like he always has.
“It was the right thing to do,” he explains simply. “I’d do it all over again.”