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"What happened?" Maeve asks once he's gone.

I hand her the threat. Her face pales as she sees the drawing.

"They came to the house?" Her voice trembles.

"Just to the door. They didn't get inside," Finn assures her.

"That's not fucking good enough," I snap.

Maeve presses her fingers to her temples. "He saw it, Declan. My son saw a picture of himself being killed."

"I'm sorry," I say. "I'll fix this."

"How? By 'chatting' to more Russians?"

I exchange a look with Finn, who clears his throat. "I should go."

When he's gone, I move to touch Maeve, but she steps back.

"Don't."

"Maeve—"

"I can't do this, Declan. I can't have my son living in a place where death threats arrive with the morning paper."

I run a hand through my hair. "What do you want me to do?"

"Leave."

The word hits me like a bullet. "What?"

"Go away. Go back to your fighting or whatever you were doing. You're the reason we're in danger, Declan.You."

"If I leave, they'll still come for you. They know about Conor now."

"Then we'll disappear. Change our names, move to another country."

"And live in fear forever?"

"We're living in fear now!"

I grab her arms, not rough but firm. "Look, we can't run from this. I need to find who's behind it and end them. That's the only way out."

"So, you just become the murderer your dad wanted you to be all along? Great, fucking perfect."

I flinch.

"I see it in your eyes, Declan. That darkness. The violence you know you can't escape. It is in you, no matter where you go or what you do."

"If that's all you see, then maybe it's true."

She pulls away. "I don't want your protection, the price is too high for you and your son to pay."

"You don't get a choice." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them.

Her eyes flash. "Fuck you. I always have a choice."

"Maeve—"