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I shake my head, and the ringing fades as realization sinks in. We were set up. We were the ones baited this time, and we took that fucking bait. Fiery rage builds inside me. My voice is a hellish growl. “Where is everyone?”

“Here!” Declan says, brushing off leaves. He’s got a cut on his head that’s bleeding into his eyes, but he’s alive. He’s moving. “Colm?”

“Aye.” Colm blinks, shaking his head as the others stumble toward us. The fire’s growing closer.

“It was a setup.” I turn, looking through the wreckage for my brothers. “It was a fucking setup, Seamus!”

I look around. “Seamus? Where is he?”

Nothing. I turn. The fire’s behind us, and I can see the others. Seamus isn’t one of them.

In the glow of the fire, Valentina’s face has gone white.

“No,” she whispers. “Torin. They moved you all out of your house.” She pushes to her feet and grabs my arm, her eyes wide. “The house, Torin! Your mother, your sisters!”

Chapter Twenty-Five

VALENTINA

“Found him!”

Declan rushes to Seamus.

“I’ve got him. He’s here, but he’s unconscious.” Declan kneels beside him, his hands already moving over his body.

“Got a strong pulse,” Ashland says, frowning. “Knocked him out.”

Torin is already moving. “Declan, Ashland, stay with him. Everyone else, back to the car. Now.”

They move as one. My toe catches on underbrush, and I start to go down hard in the dark. Torin has me before I hit the ground, one arm, barely breaking stride.

He leaps into the driver’s seat and shoves his phone at me before the door’s shut. “Call my mother.”

“It’s locked.”

“Fuck. Password’s 1111.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, putting it in. I pull up Caitlin’s name and hit Dial.

It rings and rings, but there’s no answer.

“What if we’re too late?” I whisper, shaking.

“Call Bronwyn.” He’s racing through the forest, wheels bouncing over gravel and concrete before we get to the paved road. Finally, we make it back to the street, and when we do, he pushes the pedal to the floor. The others are piled in the back in stone silence.

With shaking hands, I dial Bronwyn, but just like Caitlin’s number, no one answers.

“Seamus has the home video footage on his phone,” he mutters. “I don’t. Try Cav!” But before I can dial another number, his phone begins to ring.

“It says Uncle Cormac?”

“Answer!”

I tap the button. “Hello?”

“Torin, you there?”

“Aye.”