Catherine was in a peaceful state where she straddled the line between sleep and consciousness. Except, it was far from peaceful. Her head pounded, her eyes throbbed. Every muscle and joint ached. It was safe to conclude that she was still slightly drunk.

Tangled in the thin bedsheet with her face smashed into a pillow, Catherine groaned when the knocking at her motel room door wouldn't stop. She popped open one eye and cursed the heavens. The red neon numbers read 5:15 in the morning. It had been less than two hours since Happy dropped her off and she crawled into bed.

Rolling over, Catherine opened the nightstand drawer and withdrew the small pistol Luke had given her when she first arrived in California. This early in the morning, there was no reason for anyone to be knocking at her door unless they were looking for trouble.

After checking to make sure the magazine was loaded and a round was chambered, she flipped off the safety and dragged herself out of bed.

Holding the pistol behind her back, Catherine unbolted the lock but kept the chain secured. Fighting the overwhelming urge to hurl from the countless vodka tonics she had consumed with Happy at a dive-bar in Oakland, she opened the door.

"What in the fuckin' hell do you bellends want?" Her vision was fuzzy through squinted eyes, but no doubt she recognized the five men gathered around her door.

There was Luke, still dressed in the same suit he had worn to the meeting with Putlova. McKeavy was sporting sweatpants and a pullover sweatshirt, while the three other lads wore jeans, t-shirts, and flat-caps. Their stony-faced expressions changed Catherine's attitude mighty fast.

The adrenaline that surged through her body, sobered her up almost instantly. "What's goin' on?"

"We need to come in," answered McKeavy, solemnly.

As quickly as she could, Catherine closed the door so she could unlatch the chain. Her first thought was of her boys, wondering if something happened to them. The only thing keeping her calm was the assurance that Patrick or Jimmy would have reached out to her first if that were the case. They would never have the likes of Luke Moran or Michael McKeavy share that type of news with her.

Catherine kept her cool as she opened the door and let four of the IRA men into her room. She was their superior officer, she had to make them believe that she was collected, or else they would lose faith in her ability to handle her job.

The first thing Luke did was ease the pistol out of her hand, before turning the safety back on and tucking it into the waistband of his trousers. McKeavy flipped on the light on the nightstand, while two of the heavyset men she was only acquainted with, stood guard by the door. The other man stayed outside, smoking a cigarette as he presumably kept an eye out for anyone who wasn't supposed to be sniffing around.

"Okay, seriously," she said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "What the hell is goin' on? Please tell me Eamonn and Sean are okay."

Luke didn't hesitate, "They're fine. Just a little shaken up."

Catherine felt her heart skip beats. Instantly, the color drained from her face and she felt dizzy. The tingling numbness in her hands warned her of an approaching anxiety attack. If someone didn't start talking, she was sure she would lose her mind.

McKeavy shot Luke a look that said, "are you fucking stupid?" before jumping in to salvage the situation. He rested his lower back against the cheap dresser and crossed his arms over his chest. Catherine was the adjust general of the whole Northern Command. There was no need for him to coddle or sugar coat anything with her—she needed straight facts.

"About four in the morn' Belfast time, there was a massive raid. They hit Andytown, Ballymurphy, Ardoyne-"

Catherine knew where this was going. "I'm guessin' they hit the lower Falls and Short Strand, too. How many arrests?"

"Aye. Word from home is fifteen IRA. About a dozen UVF and a handful of UDA. They picked up your da; Liam too."

Dropping her head for a moment, Catherine ran her hands through her hair. She couldn't even begin to imagine how terrified the boys must have been watching Patrick being dragged away and having the house torn apart by PSNI, as they looked for contraband.

Since moving back to the Falls, Catherine had seen her fair share of raids, but thanks to Ian she had a heads up to make sure the boys were never home when it happened. She always tried the best she could to keep them far away from the consequences of the life she chose. Knowing they were right in the middle of Hell as she was busy drinking with SOA's Unholy One, made Catherine feel like the biggest failure of a mother.

All she could think about was getting home to Eamonn and Sean.

"I want two lads with years to sit with my Ma and the boys until I get back." Catherine pushed down her personal feelings about the situation and got right to work. "Tell Jimmy I'll set up a meetin' for Donny with my source at Musgrave so we can figure out what's goin' on…" She trailed off as McKeavy and Luke glanced at each other. There was a sinking feeling in her gut, telling her it was worse than she initially thought. "Why do I have the feelin' youse aren't tellin' me somethin'?"

Neither of them wanted to be the bearer of bad news, but it had to get out sooner than later. Having known her since she was a little girl, McKeavy decided he'd be the one to gently break the news. "Catherine, I need you to listen very closely to what I'm about to say." Giving her a minute to focus her attention on him, McKeavy then forced the words out of his mouth. "Jimmy and Donny were picked up durin' the raids and transported to Maghaberry a couple'a hours ago."

The way she remained so stoic was worrisome to McKeavy and Luke. They knew this wave calmness was never good, as it meant the gates of Hell were about to come swinging open. Catherine heard what was told to her, but she was having a hard time comprehending what that meant.

All she could think about was how lucky she was to have chosen this week to leave Northern Ireland. If she postponed the trip like she wanted to, she would undoubtedly be sitting in Hydebank at this very moment.

Standing up, she carefully walked over to the armchair where her purse was sitting. Rummaging through it, she grabbed her pack of cigarettes and lit up. As she took a long drag, her next thoughts were of Jimmy.

While the population of incarcerated paramilitaries was far lower since she last visited Maghaberry, Catherine knew well enough that it was still a rough place to be. The tension in Roe House between the IRA men and prison staff was still high and violent. She feared Jimmy would end up in solitary confinement because the guards were afraid the True IRA's chief of staff would encourage even more mutiny.

"Have they been charged?"

McKeavy shook his head. "Not yet. From what Fiona said, Jimmy bein' there may be a ploy to get people talkin'. If he's locked away, they'll feel more comfortable to open their mouths. But Catherine, with Jimmy and Donny at Maghaberry, ya do realize what that means, yeah?"

As she brought the cigarette to her mouth for another drag, every man in that room could see her hand visibly shaking. Catherine understood what it meant. She simply chose to ignore the elephant in the room because she wasn't sure she was ready to step into that role.

But like motherhood, she was forced to take it on whether or not she was prepared for it.

"Aye," she nodded.

Eleven years ago, she was a rank and file volunteer. Now, she was provisional chief of staff for the True Irish Republican Army's Northern Command.

Catherine could feel the weight of the responsibilities building on her shoulders. She was doubting her abilities and they all could sense that.

"This is exactly what Jimmy's prepared ya for," Luke assured. "I trust ya. We all do."

McKeavy cleared his throat. "The Kings made it very clear they want ya back in Belfast, so start packin' because your flight leaves in five hours. These fellas'll see to it that ya make it to the airport safely, and Seamus Doherty'll pick ya up from Shannon. I'm still waitin' to hear back on more info. Hopefully, they call before I leave for Oregon with Chibs."

Chibs.

Mother fuck, Catherine thought. He would be asking questions about her sudden departure. Happy, too.

Crushing the cigarette in the green plastic ashtray, she made her first diplomatic decision as chief of staff. "Chibs, or anyone else for that matter, is to not know about what's happened. As far as they're concerned, Jimmy's still runnin' the show."

Unsure of how long Jimmy would be locked up for, Catherine wanted to keep it quiet for as long as possible. Him being in prison may be taken as a sign of implosion by their associates and that was far from the truth. Plus, she wasn't exactly sure how any of them would react to the command change.

They all nodded, fully understanding her concern.

Realizing how much she had to do in such little time, Catherine placed her hands on her hips. "Now, if you gents will please make your way out, I'd like to take a shower."

The men in the flat-caps were the first to leave, followed by Luke. McKeavy stuck around in hopes to calm her nerves by offering some sort of pep-talk. She looked like she needed a confidence booster.

"You okay?" he asked.

Catherine took a seat on the armrest of the chair. She was still in shock and focused more on her boys to even begin to digest the role she had been thrust into. The only thing she could do was shrug her shoulders.

"Honestly? I just wanna see Eamonn and Sean. Right now, they're the only two I'm concerned about. Once I know they're okay, I'll be okay."

He gave her shoulder a firm squeeze. "You'll do a brilliant job. Forget what Luke said; Jimmy taught ya shite. Everythin' ya know came from watchin' Darragh and I'll bet ya twenty-quid that boy is lookin' down with a fat fuckin' smile right now. Ya did it, kid—you're right where he wanted to be. All you need to worry about right now is gettin' your arse back to Belfast because you've got an army to lead."


After taking a hot shower, Catherine sat on the bed with a towel wrapped around her body, and wet hair clinging to her neck and shoulders. Her ankles were crossed, her hands resting on her lap; fingers laced.

Though the television was on with the morning news humming lowly in the background, Catherine managed to block the outside world from any one of her thoughts.

She had spent the last seven minutes mumbling Hail Mary's, desperately pleading for the courage and strength required to take command of the IRA. Never in a million years did Catherine think she'd end up here. The fact of the matter was it all happened by chance. In her mind, she hadn't truly earned it and she grappled with what she should do.

On one hand, she wanted to take the coward's way out and suggest to the Kings someone more qualified takeover. On the other, she wanted to tackle it all head-on, and with a smile, nonetheless. Not simply because she sought to have the same power Jimmy did, but rather because she knew McKeavy was right.

Her eyes welling with tears of horrible uncertainty, she rubbed her thumbs together. The tight knot in her throat made it painful to speak.

"C'mon, Darragh. Please…please just give me any little sign on what I should do. You've never led me in the wrong direction before, please don't leave me hangin' when I need you more than ever."

Nothing.

Defeated, Catherine hung her head. She slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound of her sniveling cries.

Quickly pulling herself together, she wiped the tears from her cheeks and stood up. Grabbing a cigarette from the pack on the dresser, she realized her lighter was dead. Tossing it into the trash, she kept the cigarette tucked into the corner of her mouth as she began digging through her purse for another one.

"Son-of-a-bitch," she groaned.

Growing beyond frustrated that she couldn't find one, Catherine let her emotions get the best of her. When that bubble of irritation finally exploded, she let impulsivity take over and dumped the contents of her purse into a pile on the bed.

Throwing the Coach bag over her shoulder, Catherine spread everything out, eventually finding the cheap green Bic lighter.

Taking that first drag, she started to relax once the nicotine buzz hit. She snatched her bag off the floor to start putting everything back. Her checkbook, wallet, fraudulent American and Irish passports. When she picked up her keys, that's when Catherine's entire world came to a screeching halt.

She untangled the necklace that was dangling from the key ring. It was a necklace she thought she lost over a month ago.

It was the sign she asked for.

Lying in bed with Catherine tucked against his side, Darragh blew smoke rings into the air. He melted under her touch, soaking in the warmth of her lips as she kissed his bare chest. With his free hand, he raked his fingers through her silky copper waves. The beauty she possessed never ceased to amaze him.

"I know we said no gifts this year, but I saw this and couldn't help me'self." Stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand, Darragh nudged Catherine out of the way so he could roll over and dig through his duffle bag.

She tried to protest, saying Valentine's Day weekend in Donegal without Eamonn was more than enough. But, he quickly shut her up when he rolled back over, popping open a black velvet box.

It was a simple emerald heart pendant and silver chain necklace.

"Jesus," she said, breathlessly.

Darragh removed the necklace from the box, asking nervously, "Ya like it?"

"Like it? I bloody love it. It's gorgeous."

He gestured for her to turn around so he could secure it around her neck. When he was done, he kissed her shoulder. "It's not as gorgeous as you, my love. Now, it's not a real stone or anything. I'll be able to get ya a real nice one when I become a senior OC."

Rubbing the emerald heart between her index finger and thumb, Catherine turned around and pounced. Tackling Darragh onto the mattress, she straddled his hips, capturing his mouth for a deeply heated kiss.

"I don't care of you're bloody chief of staff and can afford to buy me a million real emeralds. All I want is you and about a dozen of your babies."

Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Darragh couldn't help himself from stealing another kiss from her. He knew those words were genuine. A big, happy family with her was all he wanted, too. Nevertheless, since she left the Ra, Darragh knew Catherine was apprehensive about him climbing any higher on the officer ladder.

"If I became chief of staff," he paused, almost embarrassed to be asking this question, "Would you be proud of me? I could never do it without ya by me side."

It utterly broke Catherine's heart to see the sheen of desperation glossing Darragh's eyes. She wondered if her decision to step back had him questioning his future. Cupping his face in her hands, Catherine ran her thumb along his red, swollen lips. "Of course I'd be proud of ya. If that's what you want, I'll be right there with ya every step of the way."

Holding the necklace tightly in her hand, Catherine kissed the emerald pendant. She moved her damp hair over one shoulder and locked the chain around her neck.

"I'll make you proud, Darragh," she whispered. "I promise."