Page 6

I need to leave. The house, the wake, the past—it all chokes me.

I slip out without goodbyes, walking fast down the back alleys and streets. The hotel calls to me—anonymous, safe. Far away from home.

But my feet take me elsewhere. To streets I know by heart. To the neighborhood where I spent the best days of my life, before everything fell apart.

Before I knew what a monster my father really was. Before Cormac sent me away, to keep me and everyone I loved safe.

Maeve.

I tell myself I just want to see the old building. Her parents' place, where we spent those stolen afternoons. I don't expect her to still be there. She would have moved on. Married, perhaps. Built a life with a picket fence and a rich, handsome husband. I always hoped she ended up happy.

The building looks smaller than I remember. Lights shine in windows, lives carrying on inside.

And then I see her.

Maeve Brennan steps out of a corner shop, grocery bags in hand. Still beautiful, her blonde curls shorter now. She looks tired, older, but it's her.

My heart beats too fast.

Then a small figure runs up beside her. A boy. Dark hair, skinny build.

He turns, laughing at something Maeve says, and I see his face clearly under the streetlight.

My face. My eyes. My smile.

The world stops.

The boy—my son—takes Maeve's hand as they cross the street. They disappear around a corner, unaware of how they've shattered my reality.

I have a son.

The truth hits me like a wrecking ball, knocking me down harder than any hit I have taken in any fight. All these years, while I fought strangers in cages across Europe, I had a son. A child I never knew existed.

A child Maeve never told me about.

My legs move before my mind catches up. I follow their path, staying back, hiding in the shadows, watching as they enter an apartment building.

I stand in the shadows, staring up at the windows, trying to process what I am seeing. Trying to understand what it means. What I must do now?

A black car pulls up across the street. Two men inside, watching the same building.

My hackles go up. I know watchers when I see them. Someone has eyes on Maeve and my son. Who?

The car eventually leaves, but the threat lingers in the air. Real or imagined, it doesn't matter.

Everything has changed now.

I walk back to my hotel in a daze, the city a blur around me. Tomorrow, I'll confront Maeve. Tomorrow, I'll meet my son.

Tonight, I stare at the ceiling, haunted by green eyes that mirror my own.

CHAPTER4

MAEVE

I'm pulling the food out the oven when there's a knock at the door. I freeze, checking the clock—7:30 PM, too late for the mail carrier and too early for Mrs. O'Malley from downstairs who tends to bring up her baking at odd hours. I am not expecting a delivery either.

"Mom? Who is it?" Conor calls from the living room where he's doing his homework.