“I’ll make coffee,” I mumble. Because it’s stupid and safe, and I don’t know how to ask about the knife lodged behind my ribs.
She doesn’t answer. She’s patting the floor for her phone when it starts to buzz.
The name on her screen flashes large enough for me to catch it before she turns away: Donal.
Shit.
Her spine locks. She swipes to answer and walks two steps toward the kitchen like distance can muffle what comes next.
“Yeah?” Her voice is sanded down to the bone.
I inch closer but can only hear his side in jagged fragments. He’s loud enough for the receiver to echo a few phrases.
“…don’t hang up, Cáit. Listen to me?—”
“—Tiernan—”
“—took her?—”
Cat goes white, then red, then some desperate color I’ve never seen on her. She grips the counter with one hand like she needs the house to hold her up.
“What?” The word is airless as it leaves her lips.
“Siobhan,” he bites out, the two words clear even to me from across the tense space. “Tiernan has our sister.”
Silence hangs like a blade.
I edge closer, ready to catch her if her grip on the counter falters.
“When?” she forces out.
At this close range, I can hear every word now.
“Hours ago. He’s been sending messages.”
Her throat works, and she swallows down something sharp. “Where?”
“In Belfast,” he snaps. “He sent his men for her when you didn’t respond about Rossi. He’ll move her soon, I’m sure. We don’t have time. You need to come to me. Now.”
Her eyes flick to me. I don’t move. Hell, I don’t breathe. Every cell in my body is already in motion.
“Send me the last pin,” she growls, voice flat and dangerous.
Then she jabs her finger at the call end button on the screen. She stands there, phone slack in her hand, rain ticking time on the glass.
“What happened?” I keep my voice steady because one of us has to.
Her gaze lifts, and there’s a war in it. The part of her that believes it’s her fault, the part that wants to do this alone. But alone gets you killed.
“Tiernan took my little sister.” Her lip wobbles for an instant before it presses into a firm line. “He’s using her to drag me home. It’s punishment… for my failure.” Her eyes raze over me. “Without your body, he’s not buying it.”
Cold slips into my bones. “Then we don’t go home. We go to her.”
“I’m not asking you?—”
“You’re not,” I cut in. “I’m volunteering.”
Her jaw tightens. “This is my family, Matteo. My responsibility. You’re?—”
