I look down. My hands are trembling in my lap.
Julian reaches over and covers them with his own. “Whatever happens in there, I’ve got you. Understand?”
I nod because I can’t speak past the tightness in my throat.
The building is glass and steel, corporate and anonymous. We take the elevator to the fourteenth floor. The security men flank us as we walk down a hallway to a conference room at the end. Julian opens the door.
Cassian stands by the windows, hands in his pockets, staring out at the city. Declan, his right-hand man, is positioned near the door, expressionless.
Cassian turns when he hears us enter.
The fury on his face steals my breath.
I’ve seen him angry before. Seen him kill a man without hesitation. But this is different. This is personal rage, barely leashed, radiating off him in waves that make the air feel heavy.
Julian steps slightly in front of me. “What’s this about, Rourke?”
Cassian doesn’t look at him. His eyes are locked on me. “Ask your sister.”
“I’m asking you.”
Cassian reaches into his jacket and pulls out a folder. He throws it onto the conference table between us. Photos spill out. I see them, and my entire world tilts.
The twins. At the park. Playing on the grass. Finn laughing, Liam watching something in the distance. Clear, unmistakable photographs taken from a distance with a telephoto lens.
“These are my sons,” Cassian says, and his voice is deadly quiet. “Aren’t they?”
Julian grabs my arm. “Aurelia?—”
“Answer me.” Cassian takes a step forward. “Those are my sons.”
I can’t speak.
Cassian says, “Victor’s been dead for months. You’ve been back in New York, seeing me, sleeping with me, and you never thought to mention that I have two sons?”
“I was trying to protect them?—”
“From me?” His voice rises. “From their father?”
“From this!” I gesture between us. “From the violence and the danger and everything that comes with your world!”
“My world?” He laughs, harsh and bitter. “You’re a Vance. Your world is exactly the same as mine.”
“That’s why I know what it does to children!”
“So you hid them from me for years. Let me search for you while you raised my children in secret. Made me think you were dead or gone or—” He stops, jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping. “I met them.”
“What?”
“A year ago. Ballycotton. I was visiting my mother, and I met two boys playing near the harbor. Finn and Liam. They told me their names. I played with them for maybe ten minutes.”
No.
No, that’s not possible.
But I remember that day. The twins came home talking about the nice man who kicked the ball with them. I didn’t think anything of it. Didn’t ask his name.
“I met my sons,” Cassian says again, and there’s pain underneath the fury now. “And I didn’t know. You kept them in my village, let me walk past them, talk to them, and I had no idea they were mine.”
