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"Did my father authorize lethal force?" I ask, voice deliberately faint.

Sean exchanges glances with the driver. "Necessary force only. But Donovan's men fired first."

A lie. They'd shot through the windows without warning. But why lie to me?

"How did you find me?" I press. "Cormac moved me from the penthouse after the cathedral incident."

Another glance between them. "We've had sources tracking Donovan's movements."

Sources. Plural. The mental image of Murphy's bloodied body in Christ Church Cathedral flashes through my mind. Someone had replaced him already.

"My brother must be relieved." I test the waters. "He and father have been working together to find me?"

Hesitation, just a microsecond. "Of course."

Liar.

As the SUV merges onto a main highway, pieces click into place. Murphy had confessed before dying—Liam initiated the partnership with Finn three years ago. My brother plays both sides, orchestrating conflict while positioning himself for power.

These men might wear my father's colors, but they only answer to my brother.

Which means I'm not being rescued. I'm being recruited—or eliminated if I refuse to join Liam's coup against our father.

"Where exactly are we going?" I ask, checking the SUV's route.

"North Dock warehouses," Sean answers. "Your father's waiting."

Another lie. Patrick Gallagher would never conduct sensitive family business at the docks—too exposed, too many potential witnesses. The docks are Liam's territory, where he handles the shadier aspects of our operation outside my father's direct supervision.

I need time. Need to stall until I can assess options, create an opportunity.

The password.

In Cormac's study, among the documents about Murphy, I'd discovered my father's emergency verification protocols. A password system for situations where identity and authority needed confirmation.

"Sean," I say, voice stronger now. "Verify Parnell Street."

Sean stiffens. The password request represents my right as a Gallagher to confirm the mission's legitimacy.

"What?"

"Verify Parnell Street," I repeat. "Father would have given you the countersign."

Silence fills the vehicle. Sean shifts uncomfortably.

"We don't have time for this, Aoife."

"Verification or I fight you every step." I straighten, dropping the wounded princess act. "You know how my father operates. Security protocols exist for a reason."

Sean sighs. "Fine. Parnell responds with... Easter lilies."

Wrong. The correct response is ‘Easter Rising.’ The confirmation I needed—these men operate under false orders.

"Thank you." I settle back, mind racing through options. "How much longer to the docks?"

"Twenty minutes in this traffic."

Twenty minutes to plan. Twenty minutes to prepare for whatever awaits me—likely my brother Liam, ready to use me as leverage against both Cormac and our father.