I pause, my throat tight. Even though I harbor a growing resentment toward my father, it's still difficult to imagine.
“With the family locked inside, your grandfather lit the Donoghue family compound on fire.”
The words hang in the air between us. Callum doesn't move, doesn't even blink.
“Cormac survived,” I say softly, “but he witnessed his entire family burn to death. His parents. His brothers. His sisters. Everyone.”
My hands tremble against my bindings. I can almost smell the smoke, hear the screams, even though I was never there. Cormac made sure I saw it through his eyes, through his rage, through every ritual and every midnight sermon.
I swallow hard.
“In those flames, he met the Morrígan.”
Callum’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“He said she spoke to him,” I continue. “Promised him vengeance. Promised him she’d make him strong. Promised she’d help him take back everything stolen from him.”
“There were people there to protect him. A few loyal men ended up arriving and pulling Cormac out,” I say, shaking my head. “He tried to crawl into the fire after his family. They had to drag him back.”
I sigh.
“He talked about the Morrígan so much they thought he went crazy and that he could be protected in a hospital, so they committed him to a psychiatric ward. He stayed there until he was eighteen, and when he was released, that was the day the Morrígan Order was born.”
The silence that follows is suffocating, and I can feel Callum's stare, the way he's processing every word, testing it against whatever intelligence he's already gathered.
Then he shifts in his chair slowly. “So he holds me and my siblings accountable for this?” Callum asks finally.
I nod slowly.
“Yes,” I say. “He was too young and unprepared to go after your grandfather directly, so it became about your father, and then you three. He won't stop unless he's stopped. But I'm sure you already know that.”
Callum's eyes narrow and I know he's analyzing everything, looking for holes, but I don't care. It's the truth as I know it. Part of me feels relieved to have spoken it out loud to someone other than another brother or sister.
Callum leans forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees.
“And Shadowharbor? Where do they fit in?”
I exhale shakily.
“I guess Cormac's father had money stashed, a lot of it. Cormac got access to it when he turned twenty-one. All kinds of offshore accounts, investments, properties. He sold everything and started Shadowharbor.”
I stop and clear my throat, it feeling raw from so much talking.
“That company was created with one true purpose. The same purpose as the Order. To take Boston from the inside out. To burn your family the way his was burned. Not just in blood. But legacy, reputation, influence and power. He wants to erase your name and everything it's built in this city,” I pause and look at him, “Make it like you never existed.”
Callum's expression darkens and his fingers curl into fists on his thighs. It's the most he's given me since I started talking.
“And the people in this cult or order? What about them?”
“Most,” I say, “are people who have been affected by your family in one way or another. And others are…” I trail off and look away. “Are like me.”
Callum straightens.
“Like you?” Callum asks, his tone sharp.
I shake my head quickly, panic flaring in my chest.
“It doesn't matter. I'm not disillusioned anymore.”
