Page 53

My anger deflates, replaced by guilt. "I'm sorry. For all of this."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. I should have let Cormac handle Siobhan his way. I tried to be better than my father, and it almost got you both killed."

She's quiet for a long moment. "You are better than him, Declan. You always were."

I reach for her hand, needing her touch. "I can't lose you. Either of you."

"You won't." She squeezes my hand. "But we can't live like this. Looking over our shoulders, waiting for the next crazy person."

"I know."

"Conor saw Jack die today. He saw you kill a man." Her voice breaks. "No child should see that. We stole his innocence today, Declan."

I glance at our sleeping son in the backseat. Already touched by the violence I swore would never reach him.

"We'll figure it out," I promise her. "Somewhere new. Somewhere safe."

"Is there such a place for a Donovan?"

I have no idea if there is. I drive through the darkness, heading toward Cormac's compound outside Dublin. It's not a permanent solution, but it's secure enough for tonight.

Tomorrow, I'll deal with Petrov. I'll end this threat once and for all.

And then I'll find a way to give my family the life they deserve—even if it means walking away forever.

CHAPTER14

MAEVE

Two weeks of relative peace. That's all we get after the nightmare in Killarney.

Cormac moves us to a different safe house, a modern fortress on the outskirts of Dublin with bulletproof glass and a security team that works in shifts. Declan never leaves, his shoulder still healing from the gunshot wound. Conor has nightmares about the men who killed Jack, waking up screaming most nights. I hold him until he falls back asleep, watching the shadows under his eyes grow darker.

I try to create some normalcy. We play board games. I teach Conor simple math at the dining room table. Declan shows him how to throw a proper punch in the backyard, over my half-hearted objections. We're going through the motions of family life while living in a prison of someone else's making.

"We need groceries," I announce at breakfast, fourteen days after Killarney. "I can't make another meal with what's left in this kitchen."

"I'll send someone," Declan says, not looking up from his phone.

"No. I need to get out of this house. I need air that doesn't taste like fear."

He looks up then. "It's not safe."

"Nothing's happened in two weeks. Petrov's gone underground since you raided his club. Cormac's men are watching his contacts." I meet his eyes across the table. "If I don't get out of this house, I will be the one that goes crazy."

"I'll go with you."

"You look like you went ten rounds with a freight train. Your face will attract attention." I touch his hand. "One hour. The grocery store five minutes away. I'll take the guard if it makes you feel better."

Declan hesitates, then nods. "Fine. But only the one on O'Connell Street. Finn goes with you, and you keep your phone on."

"Can I go too?" Conor asks. He hasn't left the house either. "I'm bored."

I exchange a look with Declan. Another argument we've had behind closed doors—how much freedom to give our son versus keeping him safe.

"Sure," I say before Declan can object. "You can help me pick out cereal."