Chapter 1 - Loyalty Over Blood

In a quaint Irish village, a solitary family home stood, housing a young woman and her toddler, who was yet too young for school. With care, she settled him on the worn, tattered brown couch in the living room, his tiny hands gripping a bag of crushed fish-shaped chips. His eyes were fixed on the television screen, where a documentary about wild wolves held his attention. In the dimly lit house, the television cast the only illumination.

From the kitchen, the woman observed her child quietly preparing her table for an escape from her daily struggles. Her rich, dark brown hair was tied back in a neat bun. Clad in blue pajamas that seemed almost black in the dim light, she took a tiny bag of white powder and carefully poured it onto the table. With a delicate hand, she used a razor blade to divide it into several rows and then cut a piece of paper into small rectangles. Skillfully, she rolled each one, forming a slender tube with one end near her nose and the other dipped into the powder. Inhaling sharply along each row, it all vanished within minutes.

Reclining back, she found solace in the temporary respite, occasionally glancing over at her son, who was blissfully absorbed in his show. The house bore the scars of a challenging life, dirty dishes stacked high, their contents untouched for weeks. Cockroaches had made themselves at home behind the walls and within the furniture. It was a harsh existence for a single mother trying to make ends meet.

At her front door, two shadowy figures materialized and delivered a resounding knock. The doorbell, rendered mute by years of disrepair, would never ring again. Tattered, stained curtains hung haphazardly but effectively veiled the disarray within her home. Haisley heaved a weary sigh, grappling with the effort to rise from her dilapidated chair. With trembling hands, one set of fingers unbolted the barriers she had set in place while the other, a bit clumsily, inched the door ajar.

"Ma'am, are you Haisley Byrne?"

Haisley nodded, her gaze flicking toward the doorstep where an eviction notice had been harshly affixed.

The men handed her official eviction papers, their expressions hardened. "As you may be aware, the landlord submitted a request for a Writ of Possession thirty hours ago. Do you understand the implications of that?"

Tears welled in her eyes. "Yes, I do. But now is not a good time."

"Ma'am, the landlord has granted us permission to begin disposing of your belongings. So, if you have anyone inside, we strongly recommend you bring them out immediately."

"No, please."

A young man with a shock of neatly bleached hair atop his head and a close-cropped skin fade that exposed tattoos behind his ears stepped forward, a protective barrier for Haisley. His piercing blue eyes bore into the men, a stark warning of his resolve. His attire, a hodgepodge of secondhand garments from the local Goodwill, was accentuated by a silver chain dangling from his neck.

"Who the fuck do yer think yer are evicting a poor woman who's doing the best she can. Whatever money she owes, I'll pay double if you leave her alone this month."

"Dymphna, what are you doing?"

"Protecting you, my love."

The man sighed, "Give us four hundred pounds, and we'll come back tomorrow. That's the best we can do, we're sorry."

Dymphna pulled out a bundle of fifty pounds and handed it to the men standing before him, "Here, now fuck off."

The men riffled through the money, their expressions lighting up with satisfaction. A grin split their faces as they counted the bills. Satisfied with their haul, they pocketed the cash and exited, striding away triumphantly. Climbing back into their waiting vehicles, they drove off like they'd just struck the jackpot.

Dymphna turned toward her boyfriend, her face marred by tearful sadness. He rolled up his sleeve, extending a gentle palm to wipe away the salty tracks of her tears. His mesmerizing blue eyes offered a momentary reprieve from her anguish. From the open doorway, the plaintive cries of her son reached her ears. She didn't wish to leave this entrancing interlude, but choices had to be made.

Reluctantly, Haisley ushered her boyfriend into the house and scooped up her son, offering the attention he sought.

"Come live with me, aye. The lad will have a grand time with my sister."

"Your house is already too crowded, Dymphna. I couldn't possibly impose."

Dymphna countered warmly, "The two of you can stay in my room, and work for me. My uncles and I will take care of you. You'll be safe with us. We don't believe in blood ties; we believe in loyalty."

"Fuck it, hold my boy will ya? I have to grab a few of my belongings," Haisley said.

She passed her son into her boyfriend's waiting arms, briefly tightening her hold on him before turning to collect her stash of drugs from the kitchen. She tossed the illicit substances into a duffel bag, moving with practiced efficiency. Following this, she gathered some clothes from her own bedroom and collected most of her son's belongings. Surprisingly, one duffel bag contained their essentials, rendering everything else as nothing more than accumulated trash from their brief time living there.

Exiting the house, she spotted Dymphna outside, playing with her son on the sidewalk. Their antics brought a small smile to her face. Dymphna reached over, quickly taking the duffel bag from her hand and slinging it over his shoulder. Without a word, Haisley opened the back door of his meticulously maintained, red four-door car, tossing the bag inside before helping her son crawl beside it. They then took their places in the front seats of the vehicle.

They arrived at his fairly spacious three-bedroom single-family house a short drive later. The street was alive with activity, filled with flashing lights and parked cars, as the Denver family was known for their spirited gatherings. Haisley clutched her baby boy close to her legs, navigating through the lively crowd while her boyfriend led the way. He guided her into quieter rooms that led to the bedrooms, avoiding the bustle of the main gathering. In one of the rooms, a burly man emerged, looking thoroughly satisfied, having apparently enjoyed his time alone within.

"Douglas, I'd like ye to meet my girl, Haisley Byrne. Soon to be Haisley Denver's I hope." Dymphna beamed, his arm draped affectionately around his girlfriend's neck.

"Hey," Douglas greeted with a nod.

Dymphna said, "I gave him a room just the other day. His wife left him after he killed a lad in the boxing ring, now didn't ya, my boy?"

"Yeah, I have a little one who's all messed up in the head. Can't get him to speak a peep, that one."

"Nice to meet ya," Haisley said warmly.

"Come on now, I'd like to introduce you to the rest of my family."

Leading the way, they went to the large living room, where a spirited gathering was in full swing. In the center, people danced with abandon while the women sat comfortably on the couch. Near the doorway, the boys huddled together. The room was filled with old couples and Dymphna's uncles dancing with their significant others. It was a lively night, celebrating their earnings from their packing and selling ventures. Dymphna led Haisley to the front of the crowd, right before the booming speakers, wearing a radiant smile.

"Hey, listen up. My girl is here to stay now, along with her little lad. They've been evicted from their home. Welcome to the Denver's, my beautiful Haisley," Dymphna cheered, his voice ringing. "You already know everybody. That over there is my sister, Charlotte. My two Uncles, Hector and Paudi. Now, Fannigan over here is a real close friend of the family. He's one of the best. Lisa and Christina over there are friends of the family."

As Dymphna continued his introductions, Haisley stood there, feeling mixed emotions. Crushed between his strong hand and ribcage, she held her son close. She couldn't help but feel uncertain; she knew she could never be alone again. The room was filled with Dymphna's extended family, a lively but raucous bunch, many of whom indulged in alcohol and drugs. Despite this, Dymphna's Uncles always ensured no one was too far away to get home safely.

When the party finally ended, Dymphna was already in bed, gently changing the little boy into his pajamas. Haisley quietly slipped out to the living room, where she opened the bathroom door. There, sitting on the cold tile floor, was a young teenage girl. Her long brown hair was tangled like a bird's nest, and her makeup was smeared. This girl, Charlotte, was Dymphna's sister, though she often went by the nickname Charlie within the family.

"Oh, shite. Are you alright, Charlie?" Haisley said, genuine concern in her voice. She sat beside the trembling girl on the floor and carefully draped a blanket over her, focusing on keeping her warm. Her soothing hand rubbed Charlie's tense shoulders.

"What's happened?" Lisa asked, her voice filled with alarm as she approached the bathroom. "Fuck, someone get Dymphna here, now. Poor girl."

"Who did this to you?" Haisley inquired, her anger simmering just beneath the surface.

"Fucking Fannigan," Charlotte replied, her voice trembling.

Dymphna rushed to the bathroom, his face a mask of worry as he knelt beside his sister. "It's going to be alright now," he reassured her, his voice a mixture of comfort and anger.

"What do we do, Dymphna? It's not like we can call the police or anything," Haisley said, her voice tinged with frustration.

"I'll take care of it. Keep an eye on her, aye," Dymphna instructed, determination in his eyes.

"I'll do what I can," Haisley replied, her gaze unwavering.

Together, the women helped Charlotte to her room. Haisley allowed her to change into more comfortable clothes and tucked the traumatized girl into bed. Throughout the night, Charlotte's cries echoed throughout the house, a haunting reminder of what had gone wrong at the party. None of them slept; they all lay in their beds, listening to her tears and contemplating the events of that fateful night.

Before the sun had even begun to cast its first light upon the world, Charlie had sobbed herself into an exhausted slumber. She stirred only a few hours later, well after the sun had ascended in the sky. Haisley observed her as she rose from her fitful sleep, her movements devoid of emotion. Charlie's expression had become a canvas of indifference, a testament to the many emotional battles she had fought and surrendered to.

Haisley, feeling responsible and sympathetic, left her bed and quietly followed Charlie. She found her standing at the threshold of the bathroom, seemingly preparing to take a shower. Charlie's face, framed by tangled strands of hair, bore the marks of pain and resignation. It was evident that she had reached a point where caring about her appearance or what happened to her had become an exhausting burden.

Haisley's footsteps, soft on the floor, approached the doorway where Dymphna stood, awaiting her. Their faces hovered so close that their lips almost brushed against each other. Dymphna's hand extended, gently enveloping Haisley's soft palms and tracing the contours of her smooth, delicate arms.

"How's my boy?" Haisley inquired, concern for her child etched in her voice.

"Asleep. Haven't you named him by now?" Dymphna asked, his voice tender and inquisitive.

"I did," Haisley admitted.

"Why haven't you told me?" His curiosity was genuine.

"Wasn't sure if you cared or not," Haisley confessed, her vulnerability exposed.

"What made you think that? I love you more than anything. I truly want to spend the rest of my life with you if you'll let me, Haisley Byrne."

In response, Haisley initiated a passionate kiss, their love momentarily transcending words. "His name is Gulliver, and my last name is Denvers now, remember."

"I like the sound of that, Haisley Denvers."

Lisa, their audience during this intimate exchange, couldn't hold back her exasperation. "Get a room, you two! We're trying to watch the telly here, not the soap opera you're staging."

Dymphna and Haisley shared a knowing smile before breaking away from their close embrace, leaving the living room to continue their quiet morning together.

Dymphna paid Lisa's protest no mind and continued to shower Haisley affectionately, utterly unfazed by their audience on the couch. Lisa, disapproving and exasperated, emerged from the shower, her distaste evident as she forcefully pushed the amorous couple away from her bedroom doorway, slamming the door shut behind her. In response, Dymphna and Haisley shared a light-hearted chuckle, reminiscent of young school kids on their very first date, savoring the sweet delight of each other's company.

Meanwhile, Douglas, emerging from his room, held a pair of earbuds in his hands, his attire suggesting a confident readiness for the day's challenges as if he were about to embark on a fight. He approached Haisley from behind, wearing a dark hoodie and sweatpants, a friendly smile lighting up his face. Dymphna acknowledged him with a nod and bestowed a loving kiss upon his girlfriend's forehead. With a sense of purpose, Dymphna retrieved his keys from his pocket, signifying their departure, and together with Douglas, he exited the house.

"Left ya blue balled, eh?" Christina giggled.

"Oh, shut up,' Haisley cried out, "What do you girls do anyway other than sit around and watch Teli?"

"We pack up the drugs for the boys, and they give us money. We want to get what we want like nice designer bags and dresses."

"I see."

Some rustling and shuffling noises from the sisters' room signaled Charlie's preparation to join her older friends in the living room. She dressed quickly and settled onto the couch, her eyes fixed on the television as she patiently endured the commercials until the next episode began. Charlie briefly glanced up at Haisley, offering a faint smile.

"I'll let you sit next to me if ya stop trying to make out with my brother in front of my door," Charlie teased, striking a playful bargain.

Haisley chuckled in agreement, "Deal," and joined the others on the couch.

The gals briefly enjoyed the show until the boys returned home after several hours. Dymphna entered first, settling beside his sister and affectionately rubbing her head. She playfully pushed him away, prompting him to move and sit beside his girlfriend on the other side of Charlie. Following him, Douglas stepped in, cradling a plasma television in his arms, his fists stained with blood from the exertion. The boys looked expectantly at Charlie, anticipating her acceptance of the old television that had seen better days.

"We got you a plasma for your room, Charlotte," Dymphna grinned.

Charlie sighed, "I don't want it."

Dymphna quickly responded, "Alright then, guess she doesn't want it. I'm starving," he declared, addressing Douglas, who was still holding the television.

Frustrated, Douglas decided to take a leisurely stroll outside, intending to offer the plasma television to someone else. The room was left awkward until Dymphna stood up, scooping Gulliver from his room. He playfully tossed the little boy around and engaged in spirited play before leading him into the kitchen. Haisley followed, eager to prepare them some lunch.

She placed a small skillet over the stove, setting it to medium-low heat, and carefully arranged bacon strips facing her in the pan. Their grimy fridge, covered in spoiled and rotten food, held a few fresher items. Haisley selected a bag of fruit and yogurt, proceeding to slice the fruit onto a small paper plate. She served yogurt on the side, creating a cheerful arrangement with thinly sliced bananas to form a smiley face. With the dish ready, she handed it to Dymphna so he could assist Gulliver in eating his meal.

Meanwhile, the bacon sizzled on the stove. Haisley quickly whisked some eggs and cooked them in the bacon grease to infuse them with flavor. Once the eggs were done, she divided the breakfast between two paper plates, serving them for a cozy family lunch.

Dymphna eagerly dug into his meal, devouring it like he hadn't eaten in days. "How's your food, my boy? Is it tasty?" he inquired, addressing Gulliver with a smile.

"Good," Gulliver chuckled, his young voice filled with enthusiasm.

"What do you want to do today?" Haisley inquired.

Eager to express his wish, Gulliver grabbed his mother's biceps and tugged on them with determination. "Can we go to the park?"

Haisley turned to Dymphna, presenting their son's request. "Ask your father?"

"Daddy, can I go to the park?" Gulliver questioned, his eyes shining with anticipation.

"Anything you want, lad. I can take you before it gets dark," Dymphna replied warmly.

However, their moment of family joy was interrupted by the ringing of Dymphna's phone. He pulled it from his pocket, a sudden shift in his expression revealing his concern. His eyes flicked between Sakura Haisley and the phone as if he were weighing the importance of the call. With a sigh, he answered, hoping for positive news to allow him to continue spending time with his son.

"Hey, okay, I'll be right there," Dymphna responded to the caller.

Curious and slightly anxious, Haisley questioned, "Who was it?"

"Hector needs me to come over, but I don't have the time to go find where Douglas ran off to. I need you to go instead."

Haisley, torn between her responsibilities and her son's happiness, expressed her concerns. "What about our son? I can't take him with us."

"We have no choice. He's not in the best mood, and perhaps he'll be more understanding if the lad is with us."

Haisley sighed in frustration. "I can't believe this."

"Come on, quickly now," Dymphna urged, emphasizing the situation's urgency.

Amidst the whirlwind of family drama, Haisley had to abruptly set aside her plans and rush to assist Dymphna's angry Uncle. She carefully settled her son in the back seat, ensuring he was comfortable with pillows and securely fastened by his seatbelt. Taking her place in the passenger seat, she closed the door. Dymphna wasted no time, immediately flooring the accelerator hurtling down a long, winding road stretching endlessly through desolate landscapes. Eventually, a massive green barn appeared in the distance, flanked by attached buildings. They navigated a narrow, solitary lane that led them to a parking spot near the structures, where two imposing German Shepherds, restrained by thick chains, barked loudly.

Hector, his face etched with a scowl, emerged from the barn to greet them. As he spotted the boy in the back seat, Haisley opened the door and carefully lifted him, ready to follow wherever Hector led them.

Dymphna walked ahead of her, a bag slung over his shoulder, and murmured, "Don't say anything. I'll take care of it."

The exterior of the barn-like structure seemed empty and forlorn, almost abandoned. Inside, the scene was even grimmer. What remained of the furniture was either shattered, covered in mold, or both. The floor bore signs of neglect, with stains from urine and blood. Every wall was besmirched with black mold, adorned with pictures of Jesus and crosses. In one room, grim evidence of torture was scattered around - blood and ropes coiled in the corners and rusted, blood-smeared knives and cleavers strewn atop old tables and chairs. Beyond this sinister space, another room displayed an unsettling array of firearms mounted on the walls. Hector stashed his money beside a bag of cocaine in a safe, which he locked securely.

"We heard about this fella, what's his name?" Hector said.

"Fannigen," Dymphna answered.

"Fannigen?"

"Yeah, it's taken care of, actually I took care of it."

"I suppose that must be the reason you chose not to tell us. If you couldn't handle it, you should have called us in. She's a child, a child...," Hector said, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

"It's fucking handled, okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Fuckin handled," Hector snatched Dymphna's collar and pushed him back onto a rusty table, "Shes's a child, just a child..."

"Mommy," Gulliver sobbed, his cries echoing through the tense air. Haisley held him, her arms gently rocking him to soothe his distress. He clung to her, seeking solace and protection in her embrace.

Dymphna stood his ground, shifting his gaze between his son and Hector, whose agitation had escalated in the past few minutes. He moved quickly to comfort Gulliver, assuring the little boy that everything was alright. Holding the child's tiny hands in his, he offered reassurance in his touch. Meanwhile, Hector continued to pace back and forth, observing them as if evaluating a potential new family fortune and business member.

Finally, Hector spoke, his tone carrying a hint of a decision made. "I've decided to give you a second chance."

"To do what?" Dymphna inquired cautiously.

"To amend yourself."

Dymphna's confusion deepened. "We understand your boxer has given him a little taste. I think it's about time to finish the job," Hector said with a sinister smile directed at Haisley. "Have her take care of it since she's the only one with good survival instincts around here, you see."

Dymphna shook his head vehemently. "No, don't do that. We don't engage in that sort of business, you know what I'm saying."

Hector's smile faded as he turned to face Haisley, gently touching the child's head. "Now, what if that were to happen to your young fella? What would you have done? Would you leave the matter as is?"

"This is my buisness, don't fuckin involve her."

Hector shoved him again, his voice dripping with disdain. "Your father would never have left him there alive. He would have been ashamed to see what you were doing to this business, the family business. He would be embarrassed of you. If you can't control your side, then we're done. Get her to do it, and I'll make sure that son of yours can afford a nice school."

In this heated exchange, Dymphna's frustration reached a boiling point. Without a second thought, he swung his bag back over his shoulder and firmly gripped his girlfriend's arm, urging them to leave as swiftly as possible. Storming through the doorway, they intended to escape the ominous atmosphere of the torture room, but another imposing figure blocked their path. This man was Dymphna's terrifying older Uncle, Paudi, the business leader. A smile played on his lips as he gazed upon the child, recognizing another advantage to manipulate his fellow pawns.

"Look who we have here," Paudi cooed as he held onto Gulliver's tiny hands. "Hey, little fella. What are you all up to now?"

"We took care of it, we're taking care of it," Dymphna replied, his voice tinged with unease.

"Oh, really," Paudi chuckled, a malicious glint in his eyes. "And what have you been up to, little lad?"

Little baby Gulliver trembled in the presence of his great-uncle Paudi. He buried his face in his mother's bosom, mumbling incoherently to whomever he was trying to speak to. The child clung tightly to his mother as she struggled to protect him, while Dymphna stood before them as a shield, guarding his precious family.

"What's he saying?" Paudi asked, leaning in closer.

With a quiver in her voice, Haisley whispered, "He's just quiet."

"Quiet, just like your mom. And you have your father's eyes," Paudi remarked, his voice dripping with a sinister tone. "Well, when you're big and strong, you can come work for me sometime. But be warned, if you step out of line, I'd have to come down and cut off your little nose," Paudi laughed cruelly, "And maybe I'd have to cut off your little ears."

Haisley's eyes welled with tears as she turned her gaze towards Dymphna, her voice barely a whisper. "He's just a boy..."

"As long as you're a good boy, there's nothing for you to worry about. Isn't that right, Dymphna?"

"It's past his bedtime, and I have to take him home. It's nice to see you again, Mr. Devers."

Once again, Dymphna guided his girlfriend away from the madness that was his family. He ushered them to the car and carefully settled his son in the back seat between his custom-built pillow car seat, strapping him securely. Haisley sat in the passenger seat, her face etched with a deep frown as she watched the German Shepherds barking in the distance. Dymphna revved the engine and sped them away from that forsaken place, leaving the unsettling encounter behind.

"Are you alright?" Dymphna asked, his voice heavy with concern.

Haisley shook her head slowly, her voice trembling with fear. "No, he threatened to kill our son."

Dymphna's response was resolute, an attempt to reassure her. "I'll take care of it. We're safe as long as we stay loyal."

Haisley, however, couldn't shake her doubts. Her voice wavered as she retorted, "Oh yeah, and how's that going for you? He told me to kill a man. If we don't do this, he could kill all three of us, starting with the one who can't defend himself."

In desperation, Dymphna reluctantly handed her a small bag of cocaine. "Do what you have to do to eliminate that man, for all our sakes."

That evening, they encountered Fannigen at a bar by the sea. He was as intoxicated as the night he raped that poor girl. Fannigen was sitting by the bar, thoroughly enjoying his time with some newfound friends he had made. Seizing the opportunity, Haisley excused herself, slipping away to the bathroom. She had concealed a small pistol snugly against her upper thigh in her baggy skirt, an inconspicuous weapon that wouldn't draw any attention.

Upon entering the bathroom, she retrieved the pistol, ensuring it was loaded before repositioning it discreetly. Additionally, her knee-high stockings concealed a small dagger, just another layer of precaution.

Haisley then deftly tied her hair into a tight bun, securing her shirt up to her bra to expose her midriff. Every detail was meticulously planned; this night had to be executed flawlessly, or it could lead to her demise. She was prepared, with a well-thought-out backup plan, in case things took an unexpected turn.

"I have to do this," Haisley whispered to her determined reflection in the mirror. After a final check of her concealed weapons, she exited the bathroom. Her gaze briefly met Dymphna's as he stood by the bar. He licked his lips suggestively at her, then subtly indicated Fannigen, who was unsteadily making his way out of the bar. This was her moment to follow him.

He was swaggering roughly out by the ocean near a ridge, wandering home. He pulled out a cigarette before acknowledging he had a gun pointed right at the back of his little head. His hands were up in the air, and he was trembling on his knees. Terrified for his life, he didn't turn around.

"You know what you did? Do you know why I'm here?" Haisley's voice reverberated with anger.

"No, who are you? I didn't do anything to you. What did I do?" Fannigen stammered, his voice quivering.

"Are you serious, you pathetic worm? Get down on your knees." Haisley's tone was ice-cold, devoid of mercy.

Fannigen, tears streaming down his face, slowly dropped to his knees, holding his hands up pleadingly. "You sound familiar, girl. What's your name?"

"It doesn't matter what my name is, shut the fuck up."

"Yeah, I know you. Haisley, you're Dymphna's girlfriend. He was never the killer type, a good lad that one. Not a bad bone in his body until his Uncles made him a monster. I feel bad for ya, he's probably with you cause you feel the same way."

Haisley cries, "Get the fuck out of here. If you ever fucking come back here..."

"I won't forget this. Thank you," Fannigan said, his voice trembling with relief. "Your son would be proud of you."

With those words, he bolted in the opposite direction, ready to escape and start a new life. He had never felt so grateful for a second chance at life.