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"And they'll get me." He looks at Cormac. "I'm going to the docks."

"It's a trap," Cormac says. "You know that."

"I don't care."

"You walk in there alone, they'll kill you both."

"Then what do you suggest?" Declan's voice rises. "I let them murder my son?"

"We need a plan," Cormac says. "One that doesn't end with both of you dead."

I pace the room, forcing myself to think past the panic. "You said someone inside your organization tipped off Petrov. How do we know they're not listening to this conversation right now?"

Cormac's eyes narrow. "My office is swept for bugs daily."

"But the mole could be anyone. One of your guards. That doctor. How do we make a plan when we can't trust anyone?"

"We trust each other," Declan says. "Just the three of us."

Cormac walks to a cabinet and pulls out a bottle of whiskey. He pours three glasses, handing one to me. "Drink. Then we strategize."

I accept the glass but don't drink. My head pounds from where they hit me, and I need to stay clear. "Three hours and forty-five minutes left."

Declan paces the room, his injured arm forgotten. Cormac pulls up blueprints of the shipyard on his laptop. I stare at the clock, counting every fucking minute my son spends with those monsters.

"You'll approach from the east entrance," Cormac points at the screen. "My men will cover the perimeter."

"Too obvious," Declan argues. "They'll expect that."

Their voices blur into background noise as I imagine what Conor must be feeling. Is he crying? Is he hurt? Is he calling for me?

Three hours and thirty minutes left.

"I need a moment alone with Declan," I tell Cormac after we've gone over every detail twice.

He nods and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

Declan pulls me into his arms again, and this time I let him hold me. "I'll bring him home," he promises.

"I know." I rest my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "But I need you to come home too."

"I will."

I lift my head to look at him. "No matter what happens, I need you to know something."

"What's that?"

"I never stopped loving you either." The words burn my throat. "Not even when I hated you."

He kisses me, fierce and desperate. I cling to him, memorizing the feel of his body against mine, the taste of his lips.

When we break apart, I press my forehead to his. "You'll need a gun."

"Cormac's taking care of that."

"And a vest. Promise me you'll wear a vest."

"I promise."