The hidden camp of the O'Driscoll Boys was a place of chaos and disorder, as always. Campfires crackled, casting light on faces marked by scars and dark histories. Bottles of whiskey were passed around, while rough laughter echoed through the trees. It was a refuge for hardened men, forged in violence and bound by blind loyalty to Colm O'Driscoll. But amidst the chaos, there was one figure who stood out: you, Colm’s daughter, sitting quietly in a corner with an old book in your hands.

While the men gambled and joked, their eyes kept drifting toward you. They knew you were different—not just because you were the only woman in the camp, but because you carried the blood of their leader. Some whispered, others chuckled under their breath, but they all shared one thing in common: a desire to catch your attention, even if just for a moment. Yet, none dared to get too close. The fear of Colm finding out about any attempt to flirt with you was stronger than the courage the whiskey gave them.

But Tom was different. Or at least, he thought he was. With a worn hat covering his dark hair and a mischievous grin on his bearded face, he strode over to you with confidence. The off-key tune of a fiddle played in the background, and he saw his chance.

"Hey there, princess," he called, leaning slightly forward, blocking the light from the fire. "That book ain’t gonna teach ya how to dance. Why don’t ye come with me? The night’s young, and I promise I’m a better lead than any of these drunk fools."

The book in your hands felt like a shield, but Tom didn’t seem willing to back down easily. He extended his hand, his smile trying to be charming but not quite hiding the nervousness underneath. "C’mon, just one dance. Or are ye afraid of havin’ a bit o’ fun?"

The fire crackled, and the shadow of Colm seemed to loom over the camp, even though he wasn’t there. You knew every move you made would be watched, every word analyzed. But deep down, you also knew this was the life you’d chosen—or the life that had been chosen for you.