"It's good," he says.
William watches his brother step inside. Something tightens around his eyes. His gaze follows Matty down the hall in a way I've noticed before but can't explain.
I touch his arm. He looks at me.
"He's all right," I say.
"For now." He closes the door.
We eat in the dining room—a new table, long enough for all of us. Raven brings the pasta she made this morning, and Aidan brings wine; he doesn't offer any to William, and I notice that this time it's deliberate. He sets two bottles on the counter, pours for Raven and himself, and leaves the rest alone. When I catch his eye, he gives me a small nod.
Aidan learned. It took a missile and a fire and twelve dead men, but he learned.
The conversation moves around the table. Aidan teases Matty about something, and Matty responds without looking up from his plate, and William's mouth twitches, and for a moment, just a moment, this could be any family sitting down to a meal together.
Then William sets his fork down.
"We need to talk about Volkov."
The room shifts. Not visibly. No one moves. But the air changes. Raven's hand pauses on her glass. Aidan's posture straightens by a degree.
"Viktor named him before he died," William says. "Volkov. Someone above Viktor in the Bratva hierarchy. Already in Ireland. Already watching."
"Jason's put out feelers from his end," William continues. "None of his contacts have heard the name."
"Lorcan hasn't either," I add. "I spoke to him yesterday. The O'Rourke network has nothing."
"Which means he's careful," Aidan says. "More careful than Viktor was."
"Viktor was a hammer," Matty says. Everyone looks at him. He looks back, unhurried. "He came in loud. Made himself known. Forced a confrontation." He pauses. "If Volkov is the person above the hammer, he's not going to operate the same way."
The table is quiet.
"The families are united," William says. "Brennans, Walshes, Reillys, O'Rourkes. The alliance holds. We held it through Viktor's worst, and it didn't break."
"It came close," Aidan says.
"Close isn't broken." William's jaw sets. "We rebuild. We dig in. We find Volkov before he finds us."
"And if we can't find him?" Aidan asks.
"Then we make sure that when he comes, we're ready." William looks around the table. At his brothers. At Raven. At me. "We held the line. We keep holding it."
Matty pushes his chair back. "I'm going to get some air."
He leaves through the kitchen door. I watch him go. Through the window, I can see him walk to the edge of the garden where the new stone wall meets the old. He stands there with his hands in his pockets, and his face tipped up toward the sky, and he doesn't move.
William watches too. His hand finds my knee under the table.
"Matty," he says to Aidan. Just the name. Nothing else.
Aidan nods. "I know."
I don't know what passes between them. But it's something. And it's not the first time I've noticed it.
After they leave, I find William in the sitting room. The fire is going. He's standing at the window with his back to me, looking out at the drive where Aidan's taillights are disappearing down the road.
I come up behind him. Slide my arms around his waist, careful of his left side where the stitches have healed into a ridge of scar tissue I can feel through his shirt. My cheek against his back. His heartbeat under my hands.
