"Shit." I drop the phone onto the bed and grip his hand as I try to process it all. "But why us? Why me?"
Octavian shrugs. "That's all he was able to find for now. I told him to track down any known addresses, anything else, so we'll see."
I drop back onto the bed and stare at the ceiling. My mind is spinning, a whirlwind of questions and fears and rage. "What do I do now?"
"Well," Octavian says, "I think you should call your brothers, and we can fill them in."
I nod, swallowing hard. "I agree, but let's do it in person. I don't want to just dump all this on them over the phone."
"Okay. Let's get dressed."
We jump out of bed, and I move on autopilot, my head racing with the news. I pull on jeans and a sweater, and Octavian dresses in silence beside me.
I grab my phone and call Declan on the way to the car.
"Jesus, Keira, it's not even nine in the morning," Declan grumbles when he answers. "We just left Callum's a few hours ago."
"I need you to come to the main house. Now."
"Why? What happened?"
"Just come, Dec. Please."
He sighs, long and loud. "Fine. But you're buying me breakfast."
"Deal."
I hang up and slide into the passenger seat of the Audi Octavian is driving. He starts the engine, and we pull out of the driveway. The roads are quiet, the city still waking up, and I stare out the window, watching the buildings blur past.
When we arrive at the estate, Declan's car is already parked out front. He's leaning against the hood, arms crossed, his expression a mix of irritation and concern.
"This better be good," he says as I climb out of the car.
"It's not," I say.
Callum opens the front door before we reach it, his eyes sharp and assessing. "What's going on?"
"Inside," I say. "Everyone needs to hear this."
We gather in Callum's office. Declan sprawls in a chair, Callum stands behind his desk, arms crossed, and Octavian leans against the wall near the door. I stand in the center of the room, my phone clutched in my hand.
"Octavian's contact found something," I say. "About Cormac Donoghue."
Callum's eyes narrow. "Already? Wow."
I forward the email to both of them, and we wait in tense silence as they read. I watch their faces, Declan's jaw tightening, Callum's expression hardening into stone.
"Forty years ago," Callum says slowly, his voice measured. "The Donoghue massacre."
“Have you heard of it before?" I ask.
"No." Callum sets his phone down on the desk. "You think if it was something tied to us though, Dad would have mentioned it?"
"But it says no one survived it," Declan says, his voice sharp.
"Not officially," I say back. "Cormac. He survived. And somehow became the Phantom King."
The room falls silent.
