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But I know what I'm going to do. I've known since the moment Fiona said Declan had been taken.

I'm going to find him. And I'm going to bring him home.

CHAPTER11

DECLAN

Pain radiates from my shoulder down to my fingertips. Blood soaks through the crude bandage, a constant reminder of my sister’s betrayal. The bullet tore clean through muscle but missed anything vital—my sister was never a good shot. Thank fucking God for small mercies, and her shaky hands.

I test the zip ties binding my wrists to the chair. They cut into my skin but don't give. The fishing cabin reeks of mold and dead fish, a place our grandfather took us when we were kids. Siobhan picked this location on purpose—a reminder of when we were all something resembling a family.

My phone and gun are gone. No way to warn Maeve. No way to call Cormac. I'm trapped here until my sister decides what to do with me or someone else finds me.

I scan the room for anything I can use. A table with whiskey bottles. A woodstove in the corner. Fishing gear hanging on hooks. Nothing within reach.

The door opens and Siobhan walks in, a cigarette dangling from her lips. She looks thinner than I remember, her face gaunt, eyes wild. The seven years since I left have carved lines into her face that match our father's.

"Awake already? You always were hard to keep down." She kicks the chair leg, making me wince as the movement jars my wound.

"What's the plan here, Siobhan? You can't keep me forever."

She blows smoke in my face. "I don't need forever. Just long enough to make Cormac give me what I want."

"And what's that?"

"My rightful place. Control of the south side operations. The power our father promised me before you fucked everything up."

I laugh, can't help it. "Dad was never going to give you anything. You know that."

She slaps me, hard. "You think you know everything. You ran away, Declan. You don't get to talk about what Dad wanted."

"I know he pitted us against each other for sport. Made us compete for scraps of his approval." I lean forward, ignoring the pain. "He's dead. Let it go."

"Let it go?" She puts out her cigarette on the table, inches from my bound hand. "While you played fight-club, I was stuck here. Watching Cormac take everything."

"So, this is about jealousy? Christ, Siobhan, grow up."

Her face contorts. "This is about what's mine. And I'll use whatever leverage I need to get it." She smiles, all teeth and malice. "Your little family makes excellent leverage."

"Leave them out of this."

"Too late. The boy looks just like you, doesn't he? Those Donovan green eyes."

I strain against the ties. "If you touch them?—"

"You'll what? You're not in a position to make threats." She circles behind me, her fingers brushing my injured shoulder. I grit my teeth against the pain. "Cormac will give me what I want, or I'll start sending pieces of you back to him. Maybe I'll start with your trigger finger."

"Cormac won't play games with you. You know that."

"Then I'll move on to the boy."

Rage builds inside me, hot and bright. "He's your nephew."

"He's a means to an end." She shrugs. "Nothing personal. I fucking hate kids, little germ factories."

She goes to the table, pours whiskey into a dirty glass. "I expected more from you, Declan. The mighty fighter. The one who got away." She drinks, grimacing at the burn. "But here you are, bleeding in a chair because you cared too much. Dad was right—caring makes you weak."

"Dad was a monster who destroyed everything he touched. Including you."