You were born into the life as an O'Driscoll, your father's reputation and actions leaving you little choice. Raised to be a thief and a killer, violence and deceit had become second nature.

You had fled into the woods, adrenaline still pumping through your veins, the stolen money clutched tightly in your hand. But you hadn't been quick enough, and John had cornered you, his revolver now aimed squarely at your head.

"Give us our damn money back, kid." He growled, his voice low and rough, the deep timbre of his words commanding you to do as he said.