Finnian’s eyes, clouded by pain and the haze of heavy medication, flickered toward Declan. He reached out a trembling, blood-slicked hand, his fingers clawing feebly at his son’s sleeve."Declan..." he wheezed, the word a mere thread of sound. "Don't... don't let him. He’s a butcher. He’ll kill us both the moment that vault opens. He has no soul left to appeal to."Declan didn't pull away, but his face remained a mask of cold, jagged granite. He looked down at his father’s hand as if it were a strange insect, something to be observed, then crushed."You’re pleading, Father?" Declan’s voice was devoid of the warmth Finnian had exploited for twenty years. "That’s new. I thought O’Sheas didn't beg. I thought we negotiated from positions of power.""The plant..." Finnian coughed, a spray of crimson dotting the white silk of his lapel. "It’s not just a vault. It’s a fail-safe. My vitals... they're linked." He swallowed hard, his throat clicking. “If my heart rate stops, the ventilatio

The silence that followed was heavy.Zarek looked at the boy, Leo, who watched them with wide, frightened eyes. Then his gaze shifted to Declan. Declan stepped into the room, refusing to look at his father. He walked straight to the boy and knelt, reaching out a hand."It doesn't matter," Declan said softly. His voice was the only steady thing in the room. "Zarek, look at him."Zarek looked. He saw the trembling hands, the charcoal-stained fingers, the decade of stolen life. He saw a boy who had been a prisoner of a war he never signed up for."He's not my brother," Zarek whispered. The rage finally drained out of him, replaced by a profound, hollow grief."No," Declan said, helping Leo to his feet. The boy leaned into him, shivering. "He’s not a Riggs. And he’s definitely not an O'Shea. He's just a kid who needs to see the sun."The boy reached out, his small, pale hand hovering near Zarek’s raw knuckles.Leo didn't know who this giant, blood-stained man was, but he saw the loc

Inside the car, Declan was fading. His vision tunneled into a pinprick of white. He had wedged his shoulder under Leo’s belt, using his last ounce of strength to create enough slack for the boy to slip through. Leo was halfway out the window, legs kicking wildly, but the steering column held him pinned.Shaw reached the car just as the last bubble of air escaped Declan’s lips. He yanked the handle, but the water pressure held the door like a weld. He jammed his tactical knife into the seal, prying with enough force to snap the blade, until the door finally groaned and swung open.The sudden rush of water dragged Declan toward the floorboards. Shaw grabbed Leo first, the lighter target, wrenching him free and shoving him toward the surface. Then he reached back for Declan.Declan was a dead weight, his clothes waterlogged and his body limp. Shaw hooked an arm under Declan’s chin and kicked. His lungs burned, and his muscles screamed under the weight of his tactical gear. The s

The helipad of the St. Jude Military Wing was bathed in a sterile, pulsing blue light. As the chopper’s skids touched down, the rotor backwash whipped a frantic swirl of rain and grit across the concrete.Zarek didn’t wait for the engines to cut. He slid the door open, the frigid air hitting the cabin like a physical blow."Shaw! Gurney, now!" Zarek bellowed over the roar.Despite the lashing Zarek had just given him, Shaw moved with the mechanical precision of a man who had replaced his soul with a checklist. He was out of the cockpit and hauling a collapsible stretcher toward the bay before Declan could even wipe the salt from his eyes.Declan scrambled to his feet, muscles screaming in protest. He reached for Leo, but Shaw was already there, sliding his arms under the thermal blanket. For a split second, their eyes met, Declan’s burning with a territorial, protective rage, and Shaw’s as empty and cold as the river they’d just climbed out of."I've got him, O'Shea," Shaw said, h

He sat rigidly in his chair, his broad shoulders casting a long, jagged shadow against the wall. His dinner remained untouched. In his hands, he gripped a sleek, military-grade tablet, the blue light of the screen reflecting in his sharp eyes. His thumb swiped rhythmically, scrolling through the encrypted data Declan had pulled from Finnian’s office."Zarek, eat something," Declan said, picking at his own food. The salt from the Estuary still seemed to linger on his skin despite the shower. "The doctors said you haven't had a real meal since the mansion raid. You're going to crash."Zarek didn’t look up; he didn’t even acknowledge that Declan had spoken.His gaze was fixed on a series of hospital transfer logs from 2016, his face a mask of cold, concentrated fury."The records from St. Jude’s are scrubbed," Zarek muttered, his voice low. "But the transport logs aren't. There’s a discrepancy in the fuel consumption for the ambulance that allegedly carried Tymon. It took three hou