Inside, the safe is open, papers scattered everywhere.
Someone's been through it, but they left in a hurry.
I pick up a folder, flip through the pages.
It's all ledgers, inventories, nothing useful.
Except one sheet—a list of addresses, each with a date and time.
The next one is tonight.
The Donnelly house.
I hold it up.
"This is the real play."
Lena reads over my shoulder, then nods.
"Liam's going in."
Which means he's taken the bait and is going there to talk Keira into some form of an alliance or kill her for refusing it.
Time is running out, and I realize that this is theclosest in my life that I've come to experiencing something that is so close to fear.
25
KEIRA
The knock comes just after evening, too polite to be one of ours.
Three slow raps, not urgent, not panicked, just subtle enough to matter.
I close the ledger on the table, shift the papers into a neat stack, and take my time rising.
I don't speak as I cross the hallway, just tilt my head to the guard once I pass her and let her know I'll answer it myself.
The man waiting on the other side of the door stands exactly as I remember him—straight-backed, well-dressed, a little too aware of his own silhouette.
His coat is navy, sharp-lined, expensive enough to look accidental, and his shoes are polished to a shine that doesn't belong in this part of the city.
He holds a leather folder under one arm and lifts his eyebrows when he sees me, as if this whole thing is a coincidence he finds mildly amusing.
"Keira," he says, and his voice is that same deceptive mess that lured me years ago.
Except he doesn't have that kind of hold over me any longer.
"Liam."
I open the door wide enough to let him in, but I don't step back until the pause stretches just long enough to remind him that this house still belongs to me.
"I came alone, Keira."
Only then do I turn and walk away, leaving him to close it behind him.
He does, softly, then follows without speaking until I lead him into the sitting room.
He surveys the space with a quiet sort of confidence, taking in the high ceilings, the old-fashioned hearth, the chairs, and how everything has been redone to make this home a headquarters for Ruairí and me.
