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“Harrington men. Stand the fuck down.”

Every part of me stills. My head lifts, my stinging eyes trying to focus, but all I can see is smoke.

Fionn.

“Stand down or die for disobeying a direct order.”

Ten feet from me, a man in a dark Harrington jacket lowers his rifle.

He doesn’t argue or look around for someone to check with. He simply drops the barrel toward the concrete and takes a step back like the ground’s gone soft under him.

Along the wall, another one does the same. Then the whole line of them.

Harrington weapons lower across the entire yard, and the noise falls away with them, until there’s nothing left but the rain and the fire and the chopper engine.

Smoke rolls between us, torn open by the downdraft as Fionn walks through it.

Rain has soaked his white shirt through, the fabric molded to his chest and shoulders, sleeves shoved back to his forearms. There’s a gun in his hand, though he keeps his aim lowered.

He crosses open ground without once ducking his head, and every man in that yard, ours and his, watches him do it.

And then his eyes start moving, darting across the yard, over the bodies, the vehicles, the burning barn, searching every face and every shadow.

“Sera!” The command ripping out of his voice all at once. “Where the fuck is Sera Tallon?”

Beside me, Keira sits back on her shins. She's known her brother’s voice her whole life.

"Sera." Her eyes come to mine, red-raw and streaming. "Why’s he calling for you?"

“What the fuck do ya want with my daughter?” Ma’s voice cuts across the yard as she raises her gun and points it straight at him.

A Harrington soldier immediately lifts his own weapon toward her.

I push myself upright, my lungs screaming in protest, and run.

“Ma, don’t!”

She looks over her shoulder at the sound of my voice and dips the rifle, but I don’t slow to even look at her because I only want him.

The moment his eyes find mine, he starts moving with long, purposeful strides.

By the time we meet, we’re both almost running.

His arms open before I reach him.

I collide with his solid body with so much force it knocks the breath from us both, burying my face against the warmth of his neck as his arms lock around me.

His heart hammers beneath my cheek, and there’s a slight tremor running through the breath he finally releases.

His hand slides into my hair before moving over my face, my shoulders, my arms, making sure I’m okay.

“This wasn’t me,” he whispers against my temple, his voice rough with emotion. “It was my father.”

He draws back just enough to look at me, rain running from his hair onto his lashes as his thumb brushes soot from my cheek.

“I came as soon as I found out.” His gaze searches the smoke behind me. “Keira?”

“Over there. She’s okay.”