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But I'm an Esposito, and we don't run.

“Come in, come in. I'm Caitlin,” she says.

Caitlin, his mother. She looks at me the way mothers look at the women their sons bring home—at someone you haven't chosen but may have to learn to live with anyway. Her gaze is assessing, yes, but not unkind. There's something steady about her, something that has held a family together through things I don't yet know.

She extends her hand to me as Seamus enters. He's too young to be graying a little at the temples, yet here he is, silver threading through brown hair that he hasn't bothered to do anything about. There's something easy in how he moves, like a man who has learned not to waste energy on things that don't require it. I catch the flash of a gold band on his hand before I see anything else about him, and I file it away without knowing why.

Seamus—married.

He smiles at me, and it's the most relaxed smile I've seen since landing in Ireland. “You made good time,” he says, as if we're old friends who were expected, like none of this is strange. He holds out his hand. “Seamus.”

I'm still taking inventory of the room, the hallway, the home we're in, and the people who occupy it.

“You have to forgive us,” Seamus says, “if it's strange for us, meeting the real you… in person.”

I nod.

I’m familiar with the way people speak in these circles—polite, civil, and sometimes even kind. But I don't trust it. Experience has taught me otherwise.

“Valentina. Come this way. We have others for you to meet.”

Seamus makes quick introductions. Bronwyn is lovely, Kyla reserved, and Cavin is polite but dangerous.

I'm giving everyone my smile, the good one, warm and easy, the one I know makes rooms feel smaller and safer, and I'm aware that I'm doing it.

When Torin looks at me, even as I smile my pleasantries, shake hands, and nod appropriately at the right times, my smile stays in place, but with more effort, as everything beneath it goes very still.

He dwarfs every man in the room without seeming to try. He's the kind of big that makes other people take notice.

I swallow, affected, and look away.

“Are you hungry?” Caitlin asks. She offers me a generous glass of white wine, and I take it gratefully.

“To tell you the truth, I'm starving,” I tell her. As soon as I say it, I want to take the words back because in some circles it's considered impolite. But I've never been one to soften my words with niceties, and I am starving. We ate hours ago.

“Well then, lass,” she says with a warm smile, “you've come to the right place, haven't you? Come now, Bronwyn, let's get Valentina something to eat.”

Bronwyn has friendly eyes and round cheeks. I like her.

His other sister, Kyla, gives me a curious look. “What was it like being held prisoner?” she asks, and I immediately know we’re going to get along. We don't play nice. We speak the truth.

“The first time or with your brother?”

Torin shakes his head at me.

“The first time,” Kyla says, not missing a beat.

“Fucking awful,” I say.

“Of course it was.” She shakes her head. “It was a stupid question.” She pauses. “Did they hurt you?”

Torin goes still across the room. Even seated, he's two heads taller than his sister, who's not a small woman.

I just shrug. “I have something to say.” The room quiets. Seamus pauses mid-conversation. “As you know, the entire time I was in captivity, I was told it was the McCarthys. They used your names. They wanted me to walk in here hating you.”

Torin’s voice rings loud and clear. “We'll find the ones who took you, and we’ll destroy them.”

“Aye. I agree with Torin,” Seamus says.