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The conversation is interrupted as Dr.Kearney steps into the room.

I straighten instinctively.“How is he?”

Dr.Kearney looks to Eamon who gives a slight nod, his permission to speak freely.

"Severely dehydrated.Malnourished.His vitals are stable for now, but his body’s been pushed past its limits," Dr.Kearney says, his voice clipped but controlled."He's showing early signs of pneumonia.He’ll need strict rest, a high-protein diet, and time.With proper care, I expect a full recovery, but it'll be a hard road."

He doesn’t come out and say it, but I recognize that as doctor speak, forhe’s lucky to be alive.

Behind him, Bridget appears in the doorway, her arms crossed tight against her chest.Her eyes find mine, but there’s no warmth, no welcome.Only a vacant stare that makes my stomach knot.

I search for something to offer, some small way to make it better."Would you like some tea?Or something to eat?—"

She cuts me off, her voice sharp, final."Ruairi’s asking for you."

I flinch, a breath catching in my chest.Whatever bridge once stood between us has already burned.

Before I can respond, Eamon brushes his hand gently against the small of my back and leans in to press a kiss to my temple.“Go.I’ll make sure Bridget has whatever she needs.”

With a final glance at my sister-in-law, I turn and walk down the hallway.My pulse thrumming harder with each step.The guestroom door is cracked, but I still knock.

“Come in,” Ruairi calls.

Easing the door open, I step inside slowly.Ruairi’s propped against a pile of pillows, an IV snakes from his left hand, the line a stark reminder of how close he came to breaking.Clean clothes hang loose on his too-thin frame.The shirt swamps his shoulders, the sleeves falling past his wrists, but he’s upright—barely.

He looks tired.Pale.Older.

I hover in the doorway, unsure.

“Come sit,” he says

Each step toward him drags, the weight of guilt pressing harder with every breath.I lower myself into the chair beside his bed, unable to look at him, my gaze fixed on my trembling hands instead.

“Evie,” he says quietly.

And that’s all it takes.Whatever was holding me together shatters, and the tears spill over before I can stop them.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice splintering under the weight of it."I'm so sorry for everything.For what I did to you.I—" I choke on the words."I thought I was doing what I had to.I thought I was protecting us.But it all got so...complicated."

"Stop."His hand moves toward mine, and without thinking, I let him take it.His grip is weak, but the effort behind it is all strength."Why did you do it?"he asks, his voice raw, barely above a whisper.

I swallow hard, my throat burning."Because you wouldn't listen," I say, the words trembling out of me."You wouldn’t let me in.I needed to prove I was smart enough—strong enough.I thought if I showed you, you'd finally believe in me.I didn’t mean for it to go this far."

Ruairi lets out a slow, shuddering breath, the sound cutting deeper than any accusation."You’re right," he says, his voice threaded with something dangerously close to regret."I kept pushing you away.I told myself it was to protect you.But truthfully?I didn’t want things to change.I didn’t want you to change them."

His eyes meet mine, and for once, there are no walls, no shields."That’s on me."

I stare at him, my heart breaking all over again.

"When we met at the restaurant," he says slowly, something bleak passing through his expression."I was ready to offer you a place in the Syndicate."He scrubs a hand over his face, frustrated, tired."But then we fought.And I let pride get in the way,” he admits.

He lets out a broken laugh."Turns out I'm just as stubborn as you are."

A breathless sound escapes me.Something between a laugh and a sob."We're twins," I manage, my throat tight."Comes with the territory."

For the first time, Ruairi’s mouth tugs into the ghost of a smile.But the moment shatters in the next breath.

"Did you tell Bridget?"I ask quietly.