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“And kept going.”

I pull back. “That’s not exactly reassuring. You’ve got a bunch of stitches holding your side together.”

His thumb passes beneath my eye, wiping away whatever ash is left there.

“I’ve got you, right?”

“You have me.” I close my hand around the back of his neck. “And I’ve got you.”

I leave my palm against his chest where his heart strikes strong and steady.

“Ma shot Keira. Lorcan put a bullet in her, and I still ran to her.” My nails skate over his skin. “I thought I could help.”

“Of course you did.”

I see it again. How Ma stood in the rain with the rifle trained on Fionn. I was running toward her when I crossed into the barrel’s path. Her finger tightened, and the muzzle flashed, but her gaze never left him.

“She never saw me.”

“No. But I did.”

“You came after me.” My fingers curl against his chest. “You dragged me down, and the bullet caught you instead. She wouldn’t have fired if she’d known I was there.”

“I know.”

“She was my ma.”

“I can’t forgive what she did to Keira.” His voice is gravel-thick. “But I’m sorry you’ve lost your mother.”

The room narrows around memories of my ma standing at the kitchen range, cooking up a feast and shouting across the yard at my brothers. Then the warmth evaporates, and all I see is her body lying in a pool of blood, and the wind tugging her hair.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to grieve the woman who raised us when she died trying to kill you and Keira.”

My hands disappear into the sleeves of the borrowed jumper, fingers twisting into the fabric. I can still hear Ma saying my name, but every time I reach for her face, I see the rifle lifting instead.

“You don’t have to make sense of her tonight.”

I take two restless steps toward the door, then turn back before reaching it. I can’t settle anywhere, not even inside my own skin.

“I need to know why. I need to know what your da told Lorcan.”

“Then we’ll find out,” he assures me. “Whatever happened in the past, we’ll get the answers.”

The doctor knocks before I can answer and steps into the room, followed by a nurse carrying a blister packet of tablets and a folded set of pale-blue scrubs.

Fionn looks at the scrubs and shakes his head. “Not a chance.”

“You can’t walk through the hospital like that.”

“Watch me.”

A rough huff of laughter escapes me. Bloodied, stitched and half naked, and he still expects the entire hospital to get out of his way.

“Your sister is out of surgery,” the doctor announces.

Fionn is on his feet before the rest of the sentence leaves the doctor’s mouth. His hand clamps over the dressing on his side, and I catch his arm when he sucks in through his teeth.

“She’s stable,” the doctor continues. “The bullet entered high in the shoulder. It missed the subclavian artery, but there was significant bleeding and extensive damage to the surrounding tissue. The surgical team removed the bullet and repaired what they could.”