The house is louder than it was a moment ago, and I head toward the stairs to find Kieran already halfway down them with Aubrey’s car seat hooked over his arm like it weighs nothing.
She’s bundled up with a tiny knit hat pulled low over her ears, her fists tucked beneath her chin.
Riley trails after him, checking something on her phone while juggling a nappy bag that looks fit to bursting.
Ronan appears from the kitchen, carrying a sleeping Nico while Ciara wrestles Addison into a jacket.
“For the love of God, stop squirming,” Ciara mutters as Addison starts shrieking.
Ronan must feel me staring as he glances up and catches my eye. “We’re heading out.”
I quickly head down the stairs, trying to ignore the surge of panic at the thought of all of them leaving the safety of the house. “For what?”
“Aubrey has a check-up, and the twins are due for vaccines.” Ciara attempts to zip up Addison's jacket, though the toddler is squirming too much. “That’s it, I give up.”
“So, you’re all leaving?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
Kieran adjusts his grip on the car seat. “It’s less risky.”
My stomach tightens.
It doesn’t feel like it.
Ciara scoops Addison up into her arms. “We won’t be long. An hour, maybe two, depending on how this one behaves.”
An hour. Maybe two.
That’s more than enough time for Lorcan to make a move.
“I’ll text you when we’re on our way home,” Riley says, as if sensing my thoughts.
Ronan opens the front door, and the cold February air rushes in.
He pauses with his hand on the handle, scanning the driveway before stepping out.
Ciara and Riley follow with Kieran bringing up the rear.
The door shuts behind them with a heavy finality, and the house immediately feels different.
It’s too quiet, too exposed.
I drift toward the window and peer outside, watching them load into the waiting cars.
Ronan pulls out first, and Kieran follows, with a backup SUV bringing up the rear. Only once they disappear down the drive do I step back, pressing my palm briefly to the glass.
I stay there longer than I mean to, my reflection faint in the window, layered over the empty driveway like a ghost of myself.
For weeks, this house has been full to bursting, which makes the quiet feel wrong, like the pause before a held breath finally gives out.
I hate that my mind immediately goes to the worst-case scenarios. I hate that Lorcan has rewired my instincts so completely that safety feels temporary at best.
I tell myself that this house is fortified. That there are dozens of men posted on the perimeter. That Cormac would never leave us unprotected.
But I also know that Lorcan doesn’t play fair.
I drag my fingers down the glass and force myself to turn away, pressing my back to the wall as I think about what Cormac said.
Keep Scout distracted,
