Page 65 of Blindsided
After hanging up, I leaned against the wall, my legs suddenly weak. I rechecked the message, reading the eight words that had shattered my peace. I’m coming to find you. No question mark, no “can we talk?”—just a statement of intent.
I opened the airline app and checked flights from Toronto to Dublin. The next direct flight leaves in four hours. If he got on it, he’d be here tomorrow.
I should feel panicked at the thought of Mark tracking me down here, but instead, a strange calm settles over me. Let him come. Let him see me with Kane and his family, living a life that has nothing to do with the cage he built for me in Toronto. Let him see that I’m not the woman he married anymore—or rather, that I’m becoming the woman I was before he slowly erased me.
I delete the message without responding and turn off my phone. Whatever Mark is planning, it can wait until morning. Tonight, I’m going to sleep and dream of kissing Kane in the rain.
When I enter the bedroom, Kat is already asleep, her auburn hair spilling across the pillow. I slip into my own bed as quietly as possible, pulling the scratchy blanket up to my chin. Despite the day’s revelations and my husband’s ominous message, I fell asleep almost immediately, lulled by the steady rhythm of the rain against the window.
I dream of dragons with ruby eyes and hiddentreasures, of skeletons that speak in riddles, and a sister with Kane’s eyes. And through it all, Kane’s voice calling me A stór, my treasure, as we run through ancient castle halls pursued by shadows with Russian accents.
When I wake, sunlight is streaming through the thin curtains, and Kat is already up and dressed, lacing her boots with efficient movements.
“Morning, sunshine,” she says, noticing my stirring. “Sleep well?”
“Better than I expected,” I admit, sitting up and running a hand through my disastrous hair. “What time is it?”
“Just past seven. Declan wants to hit the road by eight, get to Dublin before the bank closes at one.” She pulls her hair into a high ponytail. “There’s coffee downstairs if you hurry.”
The mention of coffee is enough to get me moving. I dress quickly in yesterday’s clothes, now mostly dry, and follow the scent of caffeine downstairs.
The others already occupy the small dining room. Kane looks up as I enter, his smile warming me more effectively than any coffee could. He’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday, his hair still rumpled from sleep, but somehow, he manages to look unfairly attractive despite it all.
“Morning,” he says, sliding a mug of coffee towardthe empty chair beside him. “Milk, no sugar, right?”
The fact that he’s noticed how I take my coffee already does something strange to my insides. “Perfect,” I say, taking the seat and wrapping my hands around the warm mug. “Thanks.”
Declan is already in planning mode, a map spread out on the table between plates of toast and eggs. “It’s about a three-hour drive to Dublin,” he’s saying. “We should arrive around noon, which gives us plenty of time to visit the bank before closing.”
“And then what?” Rory asks around a mouthful of toast. “Assuming we find something useful in this safety deposit box?”
“Depends on what it is,” Declan says. “If it’s information about Ella’s current whereabouts, we follow that lead. If it’s about Tomas, same thing.”
“And if it’s about the Russians?” Wren asks, her expression serious.
A heavy silence falls over the table. I look around at their faces—Declan’s determined, Wren’s concerned, Rory’s curious, Kat’s wary. Only Kane seems detached, stirring his coffee with mechanical precision as if the conversation has nothing to do with him.
“Then we reassess,” Declan finally says. “One step at a time.”
I feel Kane tense beside me, though his expression remains neutral. I wonder what he’sthinking, how he’s really feeling about all of this. The man whose identity was shattered days ago is now heading to a bank to uncover more secrets about the father who abandoned him and the sister he never knew existed.
Without thinking, I place my hand on his thigh under the table, a silent gesture of support. He startles slightly, then covers my hand with his, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Eat something,” he murmurs, pushing a plate of toast toward me. “It’s going to be a long day.”
I oblige, though my appetite is minimal. As I nibble on the toast, I check my phone, steeling myself for more messages from Mark. To my surprise, there’s nothing new. Just the ominous I’m coming to find you from last night.
“Everything okay?” Kane asks, noticing my frown.
“Mark knows I’m in Ireland,” I say quietly, so only he can hear. “He says he’s coming to find me.”
Kane’s expression darkens. “How does he know where you are?”
“He showed up at Jen’s house in a wild rage. Wouldn’t leave until he got it out of her.” I shrug, aiming for casualness, though my stomach is in knots. “It doesn’t matter. Ireland’s a big place. He has no idea where exactly I am.”
“Still,” Kane says, his voice tight. “If he showsup...”
“I’ll handle it,” I assure him. “He’s my problem, not yours.”
