Chapter 38 Keira
KEIRA
We pull up to the Kastaris estate, the SUV jerking slightly as it slows to a stop. Callum is already outside, pacing like a caged animal. His shoulders are rigid, his hands balled at his sides.
The second Declan turns off the car, he's storming toward us. "What the fuck happened?" he demands. "Is she alright?"
"I’ll live," I say, shoving the door open myself and stepping out before Declan can even get a word in.
My bare feet hit the cold stone. The night air slices through the torn fabric of my dress, making my skin sprinkle with goosebumps. I'm filthy. Blood crusted on my forearm, dirt smeared across my legs, my hair tangled and reeking of smoke and that damn incense.
Callum comes around the car to see me and stops dead in his tracks. His gaze drops to my forearm, where the makeshift bandage Declan gave me on the way over from his glovebox is already stained red.
"Who did this to you? I'll fucking kill them," he says, his voice dropping to something dangerous.
I don't respond. There's nothing to say that will make this moment any less horrifying.
Declan climbs out of the driver's seat, his phone already pressed to his ear.
"Don't worry," he says, glancing at Callum. "I'm calling Lyra. She'll be here soon."
Callum's eyes dart around, scanning the line of SUVs behind us. His jaw tightens.
"Where the fuck is Octavian?"
Declan looks at me first. I look back, then nod toward the SUVs behind us. "In one of those," I say.
"Well, is he hurt? Dead? What the hell is going on?" Callum demands, his voice rising.
Declan steps closer, gripping Callum's shoulder. "Come inside, brother. You'll want to sit for this."
We walk into the house, past the staff who try their best not to gasp at my disheveled presence. I don't blame them; I look like something straight out of a horror movie, complete with tattered gown, bloody arms, and dirt on my feet.
Declan stays on the phone with Lyra, his voice low as he explains what happened. I catch fragments, and each word makes the M on my arm burn hotter, like it's branding me all over again.
We reach the office, and Callum shuts the door behind us.
"Sit down and tell me everything," he says, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.
"Do you want to wait for Lyra?" Declan asks, glancing at me. "I mean, she's bleeding, Cal."
Callum looks at me.
"No," I say. "It's fine."
I lower myself into the chair, gripping the armrests. My hands are still shaking.
Declan takes the chair next to me, and Callum sits at the desk.
I take a deep breath and start from the beginning, telling it as it comes back to me.
Arriving at the gala. Meeting Elizabeth and how she took us to Shadowharbor's special gallery. The statue of the Morrígan, towering and terrible, its three faces looking down. And then, falling into darkness, slamming into cold ground.
When I come to the part about waking up surrounded by red-robed figures, their faces hidden, their voices rising in a chant I didn't understand, Callum's face barely twitches, but I can see him simmering.
Then the altar, the statue, and the knife carving the M into my skin.
Declan shifts in his chair, his hand curling into a fist. Callum keeps his face neutral, but the vein in his neck pulses, and the muscles in his jaw twitch.
I pause because this is the hardest part, which is why I waited until the end.
"He knew his name," I say quietly.
"Whose name?" Callum asks.
"Octavian's. He said he let them take me."
The silence that follows is brutal.
Declan looks ready to explode. His chest rises and falls too fast, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles have gone white.
Callum just exhales through his nose, slow and controlled.
"Please continue," he says.
I swallow.
"He told me Octavian's family, his uncle, the Ionescus, wanted a foothold in America. That I was the key. That Octavian knew I'd be taken. They showed me the bracelet he gave me. There was a tracking device inside."
Declan swears under his breath, low and vicious.
Callum's eyes darken.
"And Octavian," he says slowly, "were you able to confront him? What did he say?"
"Yes," I nod. "He didn't deny it."
Callum stands abruptly, shoving away from the desk.
"Where the fuck is he?"
"He's alive," Declan says. "One of my men stuck a sedative in his neck. Shane and some others are moving him down to the basement now. He'll stay there until we know the truth."
Callum paces.
"I'll make the calls," he says. "Find out what's real. These cult fucks could be lying or bending the truth to serve them and dismantle us. But," he stops, rubbing his chin, "if it's true, he answers to us, Keira. And I'll fucking gut him like a pig."
Despite everything, I twinge at the mention of my brother hurting him.
So pathetic.
Suddenly, the doors burst open.
Lyra rushes in, hair messy, medical bag half-zipped and swinging from her shoulder. She drops to her knees beside me, wordless at first, then says, "Jesus, Keira. What did they do to you?"
She unzips the bag, pulling out antiseptic, gauze, bandages.
"Let me see," she says, reaching for my arm.
I pull back the blood-soaked bandage. The wound is red and raw, the edges jagged where the knife bit too deep.
Lyra hisses through her teeth.
"This is going to burn."
She pours antiseptic over the wound.
I wince but don't scream, though part of me wants to.
The room is silent. Callum and Declan watch her, watch me, their eyes fixed on the mark that was left on my skin.
Lyra wraps my arm carefully, her hands steady and efficient. When she's done, she sits back on her heels and looks up at me.
"I'm so sorry, Keira," she says quietly. "But this will scar."
I already figured it would.
Callum clears his throat.
"Keira, you kept mentioning he told you this. About Octavian. Who is he?"
I wince again as I move my arm.
"The Phantom King."
Callum's eyes narrow.
"Wait. You talked to the Phantom King? The leader of this shit show?"
"Yes. His name's Cormac Donoghue."
Declan straightens.
"Cormac Donoghue? Do we know who the hell that is?" Callum asks, looking at Declan.
"Nope," Declan says.
I shrug.
"I don't know. When I saw his face, he looked older, but I didn't recognize him. He had some type of mark on his face, but I couldn't tell what exactly. I think the only reason he told me his name is because he didn't plan on me leaving that room, but," I lower my voice, "Octavian came and got me."
"Only reason he's still breathing," Declan says, visibly upset.
Callum exhales sharply.
"Well, he's done a lot for us, so he deserves due diligence. Like I said, let me handle it. Keira, go clean up. You've been through a lot. I'm going to make some calls, start figuring all this shit out, and see how much truth there is to Octavian's betrayal."
"Come on, I'll help you," Lyra says, standing and offering me her hand.
I take it, letting her pull me to my feet.
"And Declan," Callum says, "keep him alive until we know for sure."
Declan gives a sinister smile. "Find out quickly,” he says.
Lyra and I walk out of the room and down the hall in silence.
My legs feel like lead. Every step sends a fresh wave of exhaustion crashing over me.
Lyra leans into me, her voice soft.
"Do you think he really did all that stuff?"
I shrug.
"It seems so. He didn't deny it."
I feel tears threaten to slip, burning at the corners of my eyes.
"I just don't know anything anymore. What to think. How to feel."
Lyra stops and turns to me, pulling me into a hug. Her arms are warm and steady, and for a moment, I let myself lean into her.
"If there's one thing I've learned from this world," she says, pulling back to look at me, "sometimes there are complex answers. And other times, they're just assholes."
She smiles, and I force one back.
"Well, we'll find out soon if it's a complex answer or he's just an asshole. Though," I stop, wiping a tear away, "I think it's the latter, but," my voice breaks, "I pray it's the former."
Lyra squeezes my hand.
"Only time will tell," she says quietly, "whether you lost a man you never had or trusted someone who never existed."