News in the estate travels fast and by mid-morning, people are speculating and drawing all sorts of conclusions regarding Eva's miscarriage. For the most part, people are worried. Torin has locked himself away in his office and doesn't show his face for the duration of our training session. Thankfully, Bite and Ryan are more than capable and collectively deliver an informative class on basic self defence. I try my best to follow along, but my mind is elsewhere. For the life of me, I can't concentrate, and I end up excusing myself ten minutes before the end to find Torin.

"Hey."

I enter his office, finding him slumped over his desk, expression strained.

"Maeve and I are going for a walk. Wanna come?"

He rubs at his tired face and nods. Seconds later, Maeve comes barrelling towards him, launching herself into his arms. Her surprise attack seems to cheer him up, but I can still detect the stress in his gaze.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

He kisses Maeve on the cheek and encourages her to grab her gloves.

"Not really," he admits.

Together, we exit his office, finding Finn and Eva arriving through the front entrance.

"O'Brien!"

Eva follows behind her father but keeps her distance.

"You get my daughter pregnant, and you don't tell me!"

Finn's voice is obnoxiously loud, and it takes all the strength I have not to punch him in the face.

"I should've been informed!"

Torin narrows his gaze, unprepared to be spoken to like this in his own home. He goes to speak back. To retaliate. But—suddenly—to our left, Reaper appears.

"Why wasn't I informed?" asks Finn, clearly angry.

"Because it's none of your fucking business," responds Reaper.

Torin steps in. "Brother."

It's a warning to shut the fuck up.

"I'm not your brother," he spits, swaying on the last step.

Finn slowly turns his attention towards Reaper, gaze murderous. He's not an idiot. I suspect he discovered the true nature of Reaper and Eva's relationship the day Reaper attacked him for hitting her. Not that this development changes his opinion on the Under Boss in any way. Punishment for speaking down to another boss is death and right now, Finn is positively murderous.

"Reaper—Son—do yourself a favour and keep your mouth shut."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll put a bullet through your head."

Eva steps forward, keen to ease the tension. "Let's not do this here."

Finn ignores her.

"Please?"

Reaper cautiously eyes the women he loves, moments away from relenting when Finn pulls out a gun and aims it towards his chest. Torin sighs, having had enough theatrics for one day.

"Put down your fucking weapon, Gallagher."

"I will once I've killed your Under Boss."

Eva steps in front of Reaper, prepared to end her life for him. "Stop it!"

"Get out of my way, Eva!"

"NO!"

"Princess, I mean it..."

"ENOUGH!" I yell, unbale to supress my rage any longer.

All eyes turn to me.

"Do you have any idea what a miscarriage does to a woman's body?" I ask, aiming my enquiry towards Finn. "Eva needs compassion. Support. Not this!"

"Imogen—"

"No, it's fucking pathetic!" I continue, pointing my finger towards Reaper now. "All you mafia men do is threaten each other and you wonder why you're on the brink of another war."

Silence.

"Sort your shit out and direct your anger towards Shane fucking Murphy. Not each other!"

I slowly approach Eva and lightly pull on her hand, encouraging her away. She doesn't need this added worry and I trust Torin enough to prevent Reaper from getting himself shot.

"Oh my God," states Eva once we enter the living room. "No one has ever silenced my father like that."

I force her into a chair and sit myself beside her. "Don't be fooled. My arse cheeks are shaking."

She laughs, the sound bubbling up from her chest.

"I'm serious! You father fucking terrifies me!"

She suddenly hangs her head and releases a loud sigh. "Me too."

"I'm sorry," I offer, truly hurting for her.

Patrick Murphy was a tyrant, but I never feared him. I respected him and oftentimes feared what he was capable of. But I was never actually scared of him.

"You deserve better, Eva."

"We all do," she insists, grabbing my hand.

We remain in this position until Torin emerges thirty minutes later with news. Reaper—despite his best efforts—is still alive and has been given orders to shower off his hangover. Finn has made his feelings on appearances perfectly clear and has demanded Torin make an announcement about the unfortunate news. He's to pretend the baby was his and that the wedding in a few weeks is to go ahead as planned. I feel sick listening to him talk, but don't dare voice any concerns. Eva—although under extreme stress right now—nods her head, happy to go along with her father's wishes.

"There's a sit down tomorrow."

"Regarding?"

"Shane."

Oh.

"I'll keep you both updated."

"My father won't like that," offers Eva.

"Respectfully—your father can get fucked," replies Torin, smiling.

Before any more can be said, Maeve comes running in, expressing her utmost displeasure at being held captive by Fiona who—according to Maeve—needed help with chores. I send a silent thank you to my friend for keeping Maeve away from the politics and open my arm for my daughter.

"Can we go for a walk with daddy now?"

I look to Torin, expecting him to let her down with new developments meaning he'll need to work but surprisingly, he doesn't. Instead, he offers her a blinding smile and nods his head.

"Fuck—yeah!"

"What's a fuck?" she asks.

I quickly spring from the chair and hold out my hand, helping Eva do the same.

"Well—while I'm getting my coat on—you can explain your way out of that one," I say, gently patting Torin on the arm.

Eva and I exit the living room, laughing at Torin's attempts to explain what a fuck is to his soon-to-be five-year-old daughter. In the end, she's happy with whatever spiel he feeds her and comes skipping over, keen to escape the confines of the house. Eva excuses herself to—I assume—talk things out with Reaper. I'm worried about them, but I'm sure they'll work it out.

"We need to talk," states Torin once we're walking down the path towards the small forest.

I've never truly taken the time to appreciate our surroundings, but Torin's home really is beautiful. It's exactly like the kind of place we always envisioned for our future, and I silently speculate whether that was intentional or not.

"Are you breaking up with me?" I tease, nudging his shoulder.

He laughs, eyes focused on Maeve a few feet ahead. She's scouring for treasure and insists on doing so without us.

"We have a rat in our midst," he informs, hands deep in his pockets. "Someone who is feeding Shane information."

"Do you know who?"

He shakes his head. "No."

I wrack my brains, consciously evaluating everyone it could be.

"They'll think it's you," he says, slightly reserved.

I stop walking. "Do you think it's me?"

"No!"

I struggle to believe him.

"Imogen—angel—I know it's not you."

I can tell he wants to touch me. To physically communicate his true feelings on the matter, but we're out in the open and doing so is too risky.

"I want you to be prepared for the accusations."

I huff my frustrations and nod, carrying on with our walk.

"They'll come at you. Hard and Fast."

By they, he means his soldiers.

"Do not retaliate," he advises. "By all means, defend yourself but do not rise to their goading."

"You make it sound like I have anger issues."

"Imogen—sweetheart—you do."

"Fuck off!" I laugh.

Maeve looks up and grins, hands full of various stones. "You just made a unicorn laugh!"

"Did I?" I ask, a little confused.

"Yes! A fuck if when a unicorn laughs."

She accidently drops a stone and turns her attention towards the ground, quick to rectify the issue.

I quickly look to Torin and playfully shove on his chest, "You told her a fuck was a unicorn's laugh?"

"I panicked!" he defends, grinning.

I mirror his smile and before long, we're both laughing.

"She'll start school soon," I inform, ignoring the pull in my chest just thinking about it. "We'll need to figure all that stuff out."

Torin nods.

"And scheduling."

He looks skywards and groans.

"T, don't do that!"

"Do what?" he asks, returning his steel gaze to mine.

I swear his eyes have the power to do almost anything.

"Avoid the situation."

"I'm not avoiding it. I just don't like thinking about it."

"That's the same as avoiding it," I state, smiling. "Frank will expect me to move in when I marry Aidan—"

"You're not marrying Aidan," he interrupts.

I ignore him and continue with my point.

"We'll have to figure out co-parenting when you marry Eva."

"Hmm..."

"T, I know it's shit but we have to put our parenting hats on here. For Maeve's sake."

He takes hold of my hand and brings my knuckles up to his lips.

"We will," he promises, kissing each one. "Just not right now."

"When?" I ask.

"When I'm ready to leave this little bubble we've formed."

I pull on his jacket, face serious. "We'll never be ready, T."

"Good," he replies, winking. "Then we'll never leave."

I'm moments away from protesting when Maeve's enthusiasm breaks my train of thought.

"Mummy, Daddy, look! Real treasure!"

She comes rushing over to us, holding up what looks to be someone's lost pound coin.

"Wow! That is real treasure," I tell her. "What're you going to buy?"

"Umm—I think I'll trade it for a wish," she replies, firm in her decision.

Torin and I share a look.

"What will you wish for?" he asks, scooping her up and kissing her forehead.

She delights in the attention he's giving her.

"For the curse to be broken."

"What curse?" I ask.

"You know, the one that stops you from marrying Daddy."

Oh—that curse.

"That's sweet of you," expresses Torin. "Do you think it'll work?"

Maeve silently speculates, suddenly worrying her bottom lip. "I'm not sure. What if a pound isn't enough money?"

"Hmm?" Torin shares her concern. "You might be right. You better give her this too."

He digs out a note from his coat pocket and hands it over like it means nothing to him.

"TORIN!"

"I'M RICH!" yells Maeve, wiggling out of Torin's hold to—once again—run ahead.

"You did not just give our four-year-old daughter a fifty-pound note!"

He laughs in the face of my outrage.

"T!"

"It's just money."

"It's more than that," I scold. "You've just given her hope that we'll one day be married."

"So?"

"So, it's false hope."

He narrows his gaze, playfully scrutinising me.

"Don't look at me like that," I warn.

"Like what?"

"Like you're about to do something stupid."

He laughs, the sound travelling straight to the area between my legs.

"You're being cocky, Torin!"

"So?"

"So, cocky people get themselves killed."

He pulls me to his front and wraps his arms around my waist from behind, rest assured that the trees are covering our position to anyone who just so happens to be looking out the window.

"I'm not going to get myself killed."

"I can't lose you again, T," I admit, suddenly serious.

He kisses my neck, reassuring me with his touch. "You won't lose me. I promise."

I lean further into his embrace and—for once—decide not to question his warped optimism. I'm so sick of my pessimistic attitude lately. I understand that my thoughts are only trying to protect me, but there comes a point when I just don't want to do it anymore. Living in this constant state of worry is exhausting. It's overwhelming. I deserve to lose myself in Torin's soft kisses and touches of affection.

Even temporarily.