Page 107

“House under attack. Send help! They hit⁠—”

The line goes dead. I stare at Torin. He shakes his head, his jaw clenched, as we fly home.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Declan had a contact in Boston. He was undercover for a good long time, made friends. Found out information he shouldn’t have. That man was his contact. If I had to guess, they found him out. Blackmailed him into calling Declan and convincing him they were there.” He shakes his head. “Then they killed him.”

The bomb going off. The explosion. It was strapped to a man’s body.

Oh my god.

If my family is involved in any way…

“But you’re right,” he says, teeth gritted. “They set us up.” He shakes his head.

“Who’s back at the house?”

“Kyla, Bronwyn, Mam. My Uncle Cormac and Uncle Nolan came to be with my dad and keep an eye on things while we were gone. We have guards at the front of the house and security cameras, but I don’t have access to any of that.”

“How far are we?”

“Five minutes out.” I can’t imagine it’s possible to drive any faster than he already is. I’m reminded of the high-speed chase in Boston, on the way to the airport. It feels like a lifetime ago.

“Christ.” No one says a word. Smoke billows into the sky, and sirens roar. I know it before I see it. We all do. It’s coming from the direction of the McCarthy house on top of the cliff. We take a sharp right, and from here, we can see it. Majestic and formidable atop the cliffs, spitting fire like a dragon.

I cover my mouth with my hand as he growls, “Try them all again.”

I dial Keenan and Caitlin, Bronwyn and Kyla, Cormac and Nolan, and on the last ring of the sixth call, someone answers.

“Torin!”

“It’s Nolan,” I whisper.

“Where are you? What happened?” It’s the first time I’ve heard panic in his voice.

“We were bombed. There’s fire everywhere. I can’t⁠—”

His voice breaks. “I can’t find your da.”

Torin pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a sharp right. We’re almost there.

“We’ll find him. Where’s everyone else?”

“Kyla’s fine and furious. Caitlin was with Keenan. Bronwyn’s missing. Can’t find her either.”

“Erin?” I ask in a small voice.

“Cavin and Erin are at their own home.”

“We’re here,” Torin says, taking the phone. The bitter smell of smoke makes my eyes water as we screech to a halt outside the wrought-iron gates that protect the family home.

“Oh my god.” Where four guards once stood, four bodies lie, with bloody holes through their skulls. Bile burns the back of my throat. I stifle a whimper and turn away. Torin holds my hand.

“Fuckers,” he says, his voice broken. The gate’s been absolutely demolished, caved in as if a giant had crushed it beneath heavy feet. The wide expanse of grass before the garden is wide open, with no protection.

Just like they wanted.

The sirens grow closer.