Instead, everyone has gathered around a seating area near the fireplace, arranged in a loose circle that manages to feel both casual and deeply intimidating.
Greer and Aleksandr occupy a leather sofa, their postures mirror images of controlled fury.
Doran stands by the fireplace, one arm braced on the mantel, his jaw tight enough to crack stone.
Rev sits in an armchair nearby, and she reaches for my hand when I take the seat beside her.
And RJ.
He's standing near the door, dressed in fresh black clothes, his wounded shoulder hidden beneath his jacket.
His face is blank.
His eyes are fixed on some middle distance that doesn't include me.
He hasn't looked at me once since I entered the room.
"Dalla." Greer's voice pulls my attention back. "How are you feeling?"
"Alive," I say. "Thanks to RJ."
Something flickers in her expression.
Pride, maybe. Or calculation.
With Greer, it's always hard to tell.
"We've identified the shooters," Doran says, pushing off the mantel. "Krajnc family. They've been making moves against our interests in Belfast for months. This was a message."
"A message," I repeat. "They tried to kill me to send amessage?"
"To kill you, to take you—we're not certain which." Aleksandr's voice is ice. "Either way, the message was clear: we can touch what's yours. We can hurt you where you're vulnerable."
The words hit me like a slap to my face.
Vulnerable. That's what I am now. A weak point in their armor. A liability.
"Why now?" I ask. "Why me? Rev is Doran's wife—if they wanted to hurt him, wouldn't she be the bigger target?"
"Rev is constantly protected," Doran says. "She never leaves the estate without security. But you..." He trails off, and something like guilt flickers across his face. "You weren't supposed to be a target. You're not directly involved in our operations. We thought that distance would keep you safe."
"They targeted her precisely because she seemed unprotected," Aleksandr adds. "A softer target. Easier to reach. And the connection to you—" he nods at Doran "—made her valuable as leverage."
"This is my fault." Rev's hand tightens on mine. "Dalla, I'm so sorry. I brought you into this world. I never thought?—"
"Stop." I turn to face her. "You were going to be married off to Doran regardless, then you fell in love. That's not a crime, and I'm not going to let you carry this guilt."
"She's right," Doran says, and his voice softens when he looks at his wife. "This isn't on you,mo chroí. This is on the Krajncs. And they'll pay for it."
"The question now," Greer interjects, steering the conversation back on track, "is what we do going forward. The Krajncs have made their move. They'll be expecting retaliation, which means they'll also be expecting us to circle the wagons. Protect our vulnerabilities."
"Which means they'll be watching," Aleksandr says. "Waiting for another opening."
"So, we don't give them one." Doran pushes off the mantel again, pacing. "Jacksonville is out. If they're targeting people connected to me, keeping Dalla in my household makes her a bigger target. And it puts Rev at risk."
"I don't care about the risk to me," Rev says fiercely.
"I do." Doran's tone leaves no room for argument. "I won't have you both in the same location. It's too easy. One strike takes out both of you."
