Chapter 21 #2
“A what?” Declan’s beam swings to Kori. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” she says, her voice stronger than I expected. “Just got overwhelmed for a minute.”
“A skeleton?” Declan repeats, focusing on what he thinks is the clearly more important part of my statement.
“Old. Military uniform, maybe. Been there a while.”
He nods, processing this information. “We need to show you what we found. Inside.”
We follow him back into the castle, my hand instinctively finding the small of Kori’s back as we navigate the uneven floor. She doesn’t pull away, which I count as a win.
The others are gathered in what might have once been a study or library, judging by the remains of bookshelves lining the walls. Wren holds up a photograph as we enter—faded but recognizable as a young woman with dark hair and eyes that look unsettlingly familiar.
“We think this is your sister,” she says, handing me the photo.
I stare at the image, a strange tightness in my chest. The girl is maybe sixteen or seventeen, with the same high cheekbones and dark hair I see in the mirror every day. There’s no mistaking the resemblance.
“There’s more,” Kat says, gesturing to a desk where several papers are spread out. “Birth certificates, adoption records, letters. She was called Ella.”
“Was?” I repeat, not liking the past tense.
“We don’t know if she’s still alive,” Declan says carefully. “The most recent document we found is from fifteen years ago.”
I scan the papers, trying to make sense of the fragments of a life I never knew existed. According to the documents, Ella was born in Moscow to a Russian woman named Irina Petrova. There’s no father listed on the birth certificate.
“Tomas must have met her mother in Russia,” Rory theorizes. “Back when he was handling the Eastern European expansion.”
“Expansion of what, exactly?” Kori asks, her shoulder pressed against mine as she examines the documents.
“The family business,” Declan answers vaguely.
“Right. The ‘import-export’ business,” she says, making air quotes.
I ignore their exchange, too focused on piecing together my sister’s story. “She was brought to Ireland when she was three,” I murmur, reading from what appears to be an immigration document. “That would have been around the time my mother got pregnant with me.”
“The timeline fits,” Declan agrees. “Tomas was involved with both women simultaneously.”
“Classy guy,” I mutter, anger flaring at the man who fathered me and then arranged for another man to raise me—a man who resented me my entire life.
“There’s something else,” Wren says, her voice gentler than usual. She hands me a yellowed envelope with my name in faded ink.
My heart stutters in my chest as I recognize the handwriting—the same as on the letter we found at Tara. With fingers that aren’t entirely steady, I open the envelope and unfold the single sheet of paper inside.
“Kane,” I read aloud, “If you’re reading this, then you’ve followed the trail I left, and I can only hope Declan, Kat, and Connor are with you.
I hope you all can forgive me someday for the choices I made.
I did what I thought was necessary to protect you both—you, Kane, and Ella specifically.
The Russians believe I stole something valuable from them, and I did.
What I took wasn’t a thing, but a person—Ella, your sister, whose mother was the wife of a very dangerous Russian man.
By the time you find this letter, I will either be long dead or waiting for you at the final destination.
The key you found at Tara opens a safety deposit box at the Bank of Ireland in Dublin, box number 1867.
There, you’ll find everything you need to understand.
Trust no one outside the family. — Tomas. ”
The letter trembles in my hand as I finish reading. The others are silent, processing this new information.
“So, he’s not necessarily here,” Kat says finally, breaking the silence.
“Doesn’t sound like it,” I agree, folding the letter carefully and tucking it into my pocket. “Sounds like we need to go to Dublin.”
“Tomorrow,” Declan decides. “It’s too late to do anything tonight, and we need to regroup.”
“We should let Connor know what’s going on, and find a place for the night,” Wren suggests, glancing around the dilapidated castle. “Preferably somewhere with walls and a roof.”
“Connor already has the heads up,” Rory said, holding up his phone. “I texted him as soon as Kane started reading the letter, and there's a small hotel in the village. Nothing fancy, but it should have beds.”
As the others discuss logistics, I find myself drifting back to the window, staring out at the rain-soaked grounds.
My sister is out there somewhere—or was, fifteen years ago.
And Tomas might be waiting for us in Dublin.
Or he might be dead, leaving only cryptic letters and hidden clues as his legacy.
I feel Kori’s presence before she speaks, a warm certainty at my side.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly, echoing my earlier question to her.
“Not really,” I admit. “I’m not sure I know what ‘okay’ feels like anymore.”
She slips her hand into mine, our fingers intertwining naturally. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re handling this remarkably well.”
I laugh, the sound hollow even to my own ears. “If by ‘well’ you mean ‘not completely losing my shit,’ then sure.”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” she says with a small smile. “Most people would be in a padded room by now.”
I turn to face her, suddenly needing to address what happened outside. “About before—the kiss. I’m sorry if that was...”
“Don’t,” she interrupts, squeezing my hand. “Don’t apologize for the one thing that’s made sense in this whole mess.”
Her words hit me like a physical force, knocking loose something that’s been stuck inside me since I first saw that letter at the castle ruins. Without thinking, I pull her into my arms, burying my face in her rain-damp hair as she wraps her arms around my waist.
We stand like that for a long moment, holding each other in the ruins of my family’s past, while the others pretend not to notice. And for the first time since Declan buried me in the sand, I feel like I might actually survive this—whatever “this” turns out to be.