Chapter 21 Keira
KEIRA
Isit at my desk in the office, laptop open, my fingers flying across the keyboard.
The name Skyjester LLC is burned into my brain.
I've been digging for two hours, and I still don't know any more than when I started.
I've tried everything: basic search, public records, tax IDs, even a reverse lookup. Nothing helpful or solid.
Just a standard business registry filing out of Delaware and a string of vague filings and redirect pages. Whoever set this up didn't want to be found.
Which only makes me want it more.
I've tried every search engine I can think of, and it's getting me nowhere.
I lean back in my chair, rubbing my temples, frustration simmering beneath my skin.
"Come on," I mutter. "Give me something."
I pull up the Trust's donor database next, cross-referencing the name with every invoice, every grant, every line item I can find.
Nothing.
I switch to the financial invoices Helen mentioned, scanning through hundreds of pages of archived documents, looking for anything that mentions Skyjester.
My eyes start to blur after twenty minutes, but I don't stop.
Then I find it. Tucked into the appendix of a grant proposal from six months ago, a line item buried so deep it's almost invisible.
Fiscal Sponsor: Skyjester LLC.
My pulse quickens.
I click on the file, scanning the document. It's a partnership agreement, vague as hell, but there's a second name listed underneath Skyjester.
Raven Holdings.
I write it down, then type the new name into the search bar.
Another dead end at first.
But then I find a contract, a small one, barely worth notice, between Raven Holdings and a nonprofit I've never heard of.
And underneath that, another name.
Blackthorn Enterprises.
I keep digging.
Blackthorn leads to another shell company, and that one leads to another. It's a goddamn maze, each company linked to the next like a chain designed to hide the truth.
I'm so frustrated I want to throw my laptop against the wall, but I stop.
There it is, buried in the fine print of the contract on my screen, hidden in plain sight.
Fiscal Backer: Shadowharbor. See appendix C.
I freeze.
Holy shit.
I click it faster than I've ever clicked a link in my life.
It opens in a new tab, and I scan through the contract. And that's when I see it.
A name I know. A signature.
Martin Flannery.
"What the fuck," I say, leaning in to make sure.
But there it is, in digital ink clear as day.
Martin Flannery has been with the Killaney Trust for years. He's quiet and reliable. He helped me last year with the Shadowharbor banquet we hosted, now I know why.
He's the kind of guy who blends into the background so well you forget he's there. He also has access to everything.
My schedule. My movements. The guest lists for events. Security protocols.
My hands shake as I type his name in and pull up another document, then another.
Martin's name is on contracts for Skyjester, Raven Holdings, and two others I hadn't even seen yet.
He's not just the mole. He's at the center of this entire web.
I lean back in my chair, my breath coming faster now, my mind racing.
Shadowharbor has shell companies all over the place, and Martin is the one connecting them to the Trust.
He's probably been funneling information to them and God knows what else.
Before I can process it further, a message notification pops up on my screen.
It's Declan.
Got the images. Sending now.
I click on it, and it opens up the message app on my computer.
Dings sound out, and each image comes in.
They're stills from security footage from the night of the explosion.
The first is a man in a suit, his face partially obscured by the angle. I can't make out his features, but I see the badge around his neck Declan mentioned.
I look at the other.
Then Declan sends another image. It's a zoomed-in shot of two men by the side doors.
"Son of a bitch," I yell, grabbing my phone and dialing Declan before I can think twice.
Martin. He's the one who let the bomber in. He's the one who almost got me killed.
He picks up on the fourth ring.
"I know who that is," I say, not even letting him speak.
There's a pause.
"Who?"
I open my mouth to answer, then stop. My eyes dart toward the screen.
If I tell him now, he'll shut me out. He and Callum will go after Martin themselves, and I'll be left behind like always.
Not this time.
"Keira! Who is it?" he asks, frustration in his voice.
"I'm not telling unless you let me come with you," I say.
"Are you fucking serious, Keira?" Declan's voice rises in disbelief. "No way."
"I am serious," I say, standing up and pacing my office. "Declan, I'm the one who found this. I'm the one who's supposed to be working this."
"Keira, you are doing a lot, but this shit's different. You're not—"
"Well, then I'm not telling you," I interrupt. "And it's going to cause more damage the longer you and Callum treat me like a fucking child."
"Keira."
"I'm serious, Dec," I stop mid-pace, nearly shouting. "I found the proof. I did the work. And I'm not handing it over just so you can lock me in a room while you handle it."
I hear him exhale sharply on the other end, the sound of frustration I know all too well.
"Jesus, Keira," he says, and I wait.
Then Declan groans low in his throat. "You're such a pain in the ass."
"Yeah, but I'm your sister, and I'm right."
There's another long pause. I know if anyone's going to bend, it'll be my twin, but even this is a stretch.
"Fine."
I blink. "What?"
"Fine," he repeats, his tone sharp. "But you're bringing Octavian."
"Ugh, fine. Okay," I say, but it feels more like an act now than before, when I really felt that way.
"Text me what you've got and don't leave anything out."
"I won't."
"Once we figure out next steps, I'll let you know."
He hangs up without another word, and I lower the phone, my hands still trembling as my chest buzzes from adrenaline.
I did it. I'm in.
I pull up the files I've been combing through and start compiling everything: screenshots of the contracts, the names of the shell companies, the documents with Martin's signature.
I know my brothers will just want a name to go after him, but I want undeniable proof he's connected. No excuses for why he let that man into the event.
I text everything to Declan one by one, my pulse racing with every message sent.
When I'm done, I sit back, staring at the screen. I think back to all the times he smiled. Said good morning. Made eye contact and nodded with that soft voice.
And all this time, he was selling us out. Now, I'm going to be there when they take him down.
I close my laptop and stand.
I need to tell Octavian. I mean, I should, since Declan told me I'd have to bring him.
I walk to the door and open it. I walk into the kitchen, and it's empty. I check the living room, family room. Nothing.
"Octavian?" I call out, but he doesn't answer.
I look and see the basement door is ajar.
Maybe he's in the gym, I think as images of his shirtless body flash in my mind.
I smile, feeling the heat rising within me, and head down the steps.