Page 27 of His Obsession

“Get out.”

Deirdre hesitated for a beat, then smirked. “Suit yourself. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She turned and sauntered toward the broken door, vanishing into the night like the ghost she was, her men trailing behind her.

Callum ran a hand over his jaw, his muscles tight. He turned to face Isolde, who was still watching him, her face pale but defiant.

“Who was that?” she demanded, her voice shaking.

“Trouble,” Callum said simply, his look turning steely.

Isolde swallowed, stepping closer to him despite everything. “What did she mean? That they’re coming for me?”

Callum closed the distance between them in two strides, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders, steadying her. “It doesn’t matter what she meant. No one’s going to touch you,mo chroí.Not as long as I draw breath.”

But as he said the words, he couldn’t ignore the truth that hung between them: Deirdre’s warning had changed everything. The storm was coming. And this time, Callum wasn’t sure if he could stop it.

10

ISOLDE

The sound of Deirdre’s voice still echoed in Isolde’s head, her words circling like vultures over carrion.They’re coming for her.Isolde hadn’t been able to breathe, much less move, until Callum’s hands—strong, steady, unyielding—had gripped her shoulders.

Now, she could barely keep up with him.

“Callum!” she snapped as he practically dragged her through the penthouse, his long strides eating up the floor. “Slow down! What’s happening?”

His phone was already at his ear, the low rumble of his voice so sharp it felt like a blade. “We’re coming in hot. Have the gates open, and make sure the house is ready.”

“Who are you calling?” she demanded, but he ignored her, his eyes scanning the windows as if expecting them to shatter at any second.

His silence only added to the suffocation she felt in her chest. Her heart thundered as he grabbed a black duffel bag from a hall closet—one that clinked ominously—and swept her coat around her shoulders before pulling her out the door.

“Callum, stop?—”

“Not now, Isolde,” he said, his tone a warning, clipped and harsh. “Move.”

The air and silence between them was almost suffocating. The slam of the door as he shoved her in the vehicle reverberated through her, jolting her spine. Callum rounded the car and slid into the driver’s seat, the vehicle roaring to life beneath his hands.

“Callum,” she said again, her voice shaking. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at her, his expression set like granite, his jaw tight enough to crack as he exited the underground lot.

The SUV lurched forward, tires squealing as they hit the slick pavement. Rain hammered against the windshield, but Callum barely seemed to notice, his hands steady on the wheel as they tore through the Dublin streets. The city lights smeared into streaks of white and gold, everything outside a blur of wet darkness.

“You’re going too fast!” she said, grabbing onto the door handle as the SUV swerved sharply around a corner.

“Buckle up,” he ordered.

“Iambuckled,” she snapped back, “but that won’t help if you wrap us around a lamppost!”

He ignored her again, the faint glow of his phone illuminating his face as it buzzed with a message. Without taking his eyes off the road, he swiped the screen, read the notification, and let out a low curse.

“Care to tell me what’s going on?” Isolde pressed, frustration rising to match her fear. “You can’t just drag me out of my life without answers, Callum!”

His knuckles flexed around the wheel, the stiffness in his shoulders evident. “I told you,” he said finally, his voice adangerous calm. “Lynch won’t stop until he has what he wants. Tonight proved that.”

“And Deirdre?” she shot back. “Who is she? How does she know so much?”

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