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“We’ve got it,” I say, more sharply than is necessary.

He pauses, then smiles. “Of course you do.”

Alex pulls out Róisín’s chair without comment. Robert does the same for Ma. No words exchanged, but they understand me all the same.

I draw Ellen’s chair back, my hand settling briefly at the small of her back as she steps in. Once she’s seated and I’ve eased the chair forward, I rest a hand briefly at her shoulder to get her attention.

She looks up at me with a smile.

“Can I sit by you?” I murmur.

She rolls her eyes faintly. “This is yer house,” she says. “And it’s no’ like a dismissal would stop you.”

The smile I give her is the truest I’ve managed in days. I answer with a wink.

Her mouth curves further, warmth touching her cheeks as she drops her gaze to her plate and busies herself with breakfast. I withdraw my hand and take the seat between her and Róisín, relishing the moment.

Around us, the room follows Ma’s cue. Plates are passed. Tea is poured. Someone laughs softly at something Mannie says, and the sound lands wrong.

Alex, as he so often does, has taken his usual place opposite Róisín, spending the better part of breakfast trying to make her laugh. Robert sits beside him, all quiet disapproval and constant little elbows meant to keep Alex in line—usually with the opposite effect, because it only makes Róisín laugh harder.

I take bite after bite that I barely taste. Swallow tea that sits too hot in my throat.

We eat, and it’s the strangest meal of my life. My patience thins until it feels like a wire pulled tight.

Finally, I can’t stand it anymore.

“Alright,” I say, setting my cup down harder than necessary. “Someone has to start talkin’.”

Cutlery stills mid-clink.

Alex clears his throat, eyes cutting to Robert—then past him, toward Mannie.

“I, too, would enjoy some context here. Maybe we should begin with why everyone seems so comfortable after last nights… events,” Robert finishes.

A corner of Mannie’s mouth lifts. “Some of us have been awake longer than others. We’ve had time to become… acquainted.” I can tell Alex isn’t too fond of that. His expression curdles like he’s been served spoiled milk.

Róisín snorts.

I only realise I’m gripping the edge of the table when pain blooms across my knuckles. “Robert and Alex were hurt last night,” I say. “Badly. So forgive me if breakfast before some sort of explanation feels… premature.”

Ellen’s hand slides over mine.

If she’s this calm, maybe I’m overreacting. Surely she’d be as tense as I am if they’d spoken to her already. Informed her of this madness. Told her what we saw… what had crossed into our land.

Ma exhales slowly. “James,” she says, calm but firm. “We needed clear heads before we spoke of it.”

I shake my head. “We were dismissed last night like bairns without so much as an introduction, and now there’s a man at our table who seems far more familiar with the women I care about than the men bleedin’ out on the road last night, so ye’ll have to forgive my impertinence, Mother.”

My mother’s expression hardens at the word Mother. She cuts a glance at me like she’d like to kick my shin under the table.

Ellen’s fingers tighten over mine.

I look at her properly and see confusion written all over her face.

“You were told what happened,” I say slowly. “Weren’t you? And who he is.”

She blinks at me, surprised.