Blood.Not mine.His.The kid’s eyes—grey steel. The kind that cuts. The kind I’d grown up staring at across dinner tables where no one spoke, across boardrooms where silence cost more than gold, across mirrors I wanted to smash.Not coincidence. Not resemblance.Kieran.Irene knew I’d seen it. She turned her face quick, pulled the boy closer, and vanished into the river of bodies. I stood dumb on the steps, rain needling my collar, watching her coat flicker in and out of the crowd.My brother’s son.Hidden in plain sight.I should’ve let them disappear. Should’ve gone home, poured whiskey, convinced myself it was a trick of light.I didn’t.My feet moved before my head. I pushed through umbrellas, through curses muttered at me under the storm. Kept the line of her shoulders in sight, the way she bent toward him, protecting, always protecting.Two blocks. A corner. A narrow street no one bothers with unless they live there. She stopped once, knelt, tugged his head up, kissed his foreh
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