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"Hospital?" Jackson asks.

"Safe house. Doc Moran can patch her up."

Sarah sits between me and Orla, shaking. Orla takes her hand.

"Thank you," Sarah whispers. "All of you."

Eamon turns around. "Sorry this happened. My fault."

"How's it your fault?" Sarah asks.

Orla looks at me. Sarah doesn't know about her dad, about Eamon, about any of it.

"Bad timing," Orla says. "We'll talk later."

Dr. Moran finishes examiningSarah in the safe house bedroom. Bruised ribs, split lip, exhaustion. Nothing permanent.

"She needs rest," he tells me quietly. "And probably counseling. Kidnapping leaves psychological marks."

I nod, walking him to the door.

When I return, Sarah sits on the couch with Orla beside her. They share the same stubborn chin, the same green eyes. Family resemblance that nearly got Sarah killed.

"I should call work," Sarah says. "Tell them I'm sick."

"Already handled," Orla replies. "I called your principal. Said you had a family emergency."

"What kind of emergency?"

Orla looks at me, then at Eamon who sits across the room. "The kind where your cousin infiltrated the Irish mob for seven years to find her father's killer."

Sarah blinks. "What?"

"It's complicated."

"Try me."

For the next hour, we explain everything. Thomas Nolan's murder. Orla's fake identity. The evidence against Collins. Eamon's manipulation and guilt. Sarah listens without interruption, face growing pale.

"Jesus, Orla," she says when we finish. "You could have been killed."

"Almost was. Several times."

Sarah turns to Eamon. "You killed Uncle Thomas?"

"Yes." Eamon meets her eyes. "I believed lies about him being a traitor. I was wrong."

"And now?"

"Now I try to make it right. Starting with saving you."

Sarah considers this, then looks at me. "And you? What's your role in this?"

"I fell for your cousin despite everything she did to my family."

"Fell for her?"

I reach for Orla's hand. "More than fell. She's mine now."