Page 57

I step back, steeling myself for what I need to say next. "If something goes wrong... if you can't get Conor out..."

"Maeve—"

"If you have to choose between saving him or yourself, you choose him." My voice doesn't waver. "No matter what. Promise me."

His eyes darken. "I promise."

Satisfied, I nod and move toward the door. "I need to use the bathroom. Give me a minute."

Instead of heading to the bathroom, I find my way to the kitchen. The house is massive, but I follow the sounds of activity until I reach a large, gleaming space where staff prepare dinner.

"Excuse me," I say to a young woman chopping vegetables. "Where does Mr. Donovan keep his car keys?"

She looks up, startled. "Ma'am?"

"Mr. Cormac asked me to move his car. For the security team." I force a smile. "He said the keys would be in the kitchen."

She hesitates, then points to a row of hooks on the wall. "The spares are there. But I don't know which?—"

"Thank you." I grab a random key fob and walk out before she can question me further.

In the garage, I press the unlock button, following the beep to a sleek black Audi. I slide into the driver's seat and start the engine.

The guard at the gate stops me, but I roll down the window with a confident smile. "Mr. Cormac asked me to pick up some medications for his brother. At the pharmacy in town."

He studies my face, then nods. "Be careful, ma'am. Mr. Donovan wants you back before dark."

The gates open, and I drive through, keeping my speed steady until I'm out of sight. Then I floor it.

I'm not going to the pharmacy. I'm going to the north docks, where my son is. Where Declan will walk into a trap in less than two hours.

I know a side entrance to the shipyard from my teen years—back when it was an abandoned playground for bored Dublin kids looking for trouble. If I can slip in unnoticed, maybe I can find Conor before Petrov's men realize I'm there.

It's suicide. It's madness. But I can't sit and wait while the two people I love most in the world face death alone.

Cormac calls my phone five times before I turn it off. Declan will be furious when he realizes I'm gone. But by then, it will be too late.

I spot the abandoned shipyard up ahead, its rusted cranes sticking up like skeletal giants against the darkening sky. I park the Audi a half-mile away and walk the rest of the way, staying close to the fence line.

My old entrance—a gap where the chain-link fence has been cut and bent back—is still there, hidden behind overgrown bushes. I squeeze through, ignoring the way the metal catches and tears my shirt.

The shipyard is massive, a maze of containers, warehouses, and equipment left to rot. I move from shadow to shadow, listening for voices, for any sign of Conor or his captors.

A light glows from one of the warehouses near the water. I creep closer, staying low. Through a dirty window, I can see movement inside. Men with guns. And in the center of the room, Conor is in the middle, on a chair, his hands tied.

I need to get inside, but every entrance will be guarded. I circle the building, looking for another way in.

There—high up on the wall, a ventilation shaft. If I can reach it, I might be able to crawl through.

I find a stack of crates nearby and climb them, wincing at every sound. The metal groans beneath my weight, but the men inside the warehouse don't seem to hear. At the top of the crates, I'm level with the vent. I jump across the gap, grabbing the edge of the vent grid. It comes loose in my hands, nearly sending me crashing to the ground.

I hang there for a moment, heart pounding. When no one comes to investigate, I pull myself up and into the shaft.

It's narrow, filthy, and pitch-black inside. I crawl forward slowly, using my phone's flashlight to see. The shaft leads deeper into the warehouse. I follow it until I hear voices below me.

"The boy is hungry," someone says in heavily accented English.

"He eats when Donovan arrives." Another voice, deeper. "Not before."