Page 61 of Blindsided
“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 asmall 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.
Chapter 22
Kori
The hotel is exactly what you’d expect in a tiny village near the border—dated floral wallpaper, creaky floors, and beds that have seen better decades. But it’s dry and warm, which feels like luxury after the rain-soaked castle grounds.
“Two rooms left,” the elderly proprietor tells Declan when we arrive, dripping puddles onto her worn carpet. “One double, one with two singles.”
After a brief negotiation that I’m too exhausted to follow, we end up with Wren and Declan taking the double room and Kat and me sharing the two singles. With no other room available, I watch as the men settle in the small sitting room downstairs, spreading blankets over worn sofas and armchairs.
Kane catches my eye as I turn to follow Kat upstairs, and something passes between us—a question, maybe, or a promise. My lips still tingle from our kiss in the rain, and I touch them unconsciously as I climb the narrow staircase.
The room Kat and I are sharing is small but clean, with twin beds separated by a nightstand sporting a lamp with a crooked shade. I set my duffel bag on the bed nearest the window and sit down, suddenly aware of how exhausted I am.
“So,” Kat says, closing the door behind us, “you and Kane, huh?”
I feel heat rise to my cheeks. “What? No, we’re just—”
“Save it,” she interrupts, her tone not unkind. “I saw you two by the window at the castle. The way he was holding you.” She sits on her bed, kicking off her muddy boots. “Kane doesn’t do that—the holding thing. Not with anyone.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I busy myself with unpacking my meager belongings. “We barely know each other,” I finally manage.
“Sometimes that’s better,” Kat says, pulling a brush through her tangled hair. “No history, no baggage. Well, except for the whole ‘my husband cheated with my sister’ thing. And Kane’s ‘my entire identity is a lie’ situation.” She pauses. “Okay, so maybe there’s some baggage.”
