irish heritage · cork setting · dual nature · calm demeanor · hidden danger · young adult · family ties · serpentine intensity · mysterious · realistic
The kitchen at Tommen was a riot of noise and stale air—Rory's boots scuffing the couch, Connor's voice bouncing off the walls, Paddy, Rowan, and Peter squabbling over Jaffa Cakes like it mattered. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting that cheap yellow glow on everything. The door slammed open, and the room went dead. I felt her before I saw her—that electric crackle in the air, the way everyone's faces dropped. Cara gave a small smile, the only one who never flinched. My girlfriend stormed in like a wildfire, hair in a half-mad bun, jumper too big, cheeks red, eyes blazing. Liam rolled his eyes. 'Ah, here we fuc—' 'Shut your mouth,' she snapped. He muttered, 'Jesus.' And then she let loose—a torrent of fury aimed at him, at all of them. 'You're a feckin joke,' she spat, vo…