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"Before I was born?"

"Yes."

“was he your best friend?” He chews. "His green eyes are like mine."

My breath catches. Even at six, Conor notices the similarities. Of course, he does—he inherited Declan's sharp mind along with his green eyes and stubbornness.

"A lot of people have green eyes," I say lamely.

Conor shrugs, losing interest. "Can I watch TV?"

"For a little while."

He scampers off to the living room. The annoying sounds of Bluey blare and I resist the urge to go press mute, because my thoughts are loud enough without the extra noise. A click at the door has me lunging for a knife on the counter.

Conor is absorbed in cartoons, oblivious to my fear.

The door opens, and Declan walks in. Blood stains his white shirt. A bruise darkens his right cheek. His knuckles are raw.

He locks the door behind him and turns to find me holding the knife.

"Planning to use that?" he asks, voice rough. “It’s a fish knife, not very sharp.”

I lower the blade. "What happened to you?"

"I found one of the Russians. We had a chat."

The casual way he says it sends a chill through me. I know what kind of "chat" leaves a man looking like that.

"Where's Conor?" he asks.

I nod toward the TV. Declan's eyes soften when he spots our son. His son.

"Did you learn any Russian in your chat?" I ask, pulling him into the kitchen, away from Conor's ears and eyes, he's a fucking mess.

"They're after me, not you." He grabs a bottled water from the fridge, downing half of it in one go. "The Russians think taking me out will scare Cormac into doing them some favors."

"And I'm collateral damage?"

"You and Conor are leverage." He meets my eyes. "They know he's my son."

Fear slices through me. "How?"

"Look at him, how does anyone not know Maeve?"

I grip the counter to steady myself. "We need to leave Dublin. I have a cousin in Cork?—"

"No." Declan steps closer. "Running won't help. They'll find you."

"So, what, we hide here forever? Wait until they get us? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Until I deal with the threat."

I look at the blood on his shirt. "By killing them all?"

"If I have to."

His voice reminds me of what I tried to forget—Declan is a Donovan through and through.