Page 69 of Wicked Devotions: Part 2

My shocked expression must catch Declan’s eye because he follows my gaze. The only sound in the room is the rapid swooshing of the fetus. No one says a word until the doctor pulls the doppler away from her stomach with a relieved expression.

“Baby sounds good. You’re both going to be fine.”

“Baby?” Declan asks his dad.

“This isn’t how we wanted you to find out.” Cillian sits down on the coffee table across from where Annabelle lays while Felix walks the doctor out. “Annabelle is pregnant.”

“Is it yours?”

My gaze snaps to Declan. What kind of a question is that?

Cillian’s expression darkens. “She’s my wife.”

“Yeah, but I know you’re all fucking.” Declan pins a stare on Felix as he enters. “Could be his.”

“It could be.” Cillian’s voice is cold and hard. “I know you’re upset about Harper, but watch your fucking tone. You’re living in a glass house.”

Declan presses his lips together. He wants to fight, it’s not actually the pregnancy that’s upsetting him. He and Cy are so similar in that way.

“Congratulations, Annabelle.” Banks says quietly as she sits up.

“Banks.” Her voice trembles as she tries to stand, but Cillian gently stops her.

Instead of having her come to him, he walks over to her and sits down. She wraps her arms around him and starts to cry. “We have to get her back.”

“We will.”

Chapter

Twenty-Six

HARPER

Searing pain rides the beat of my pulse and ricochets through my body as I lie on the cold, damp floor of some kind of shack. It’s pitch black aside from the faint light I can barely see through the dusty window. My hands are secured behind my back, and my legs are tied together. Every part of my body aches, but my clothes are still intact.

I hold onto that one positive thought as darkness overtakes me again.

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

DECLAN

Each minute that passes is excruciating. I’ve been watching the flight tracker for what feels like days as we wait for Sawyer, Nolan, Lake, and his team to land on the private airstrip on the island. Dad and Felix sit on either side of Annabelle, anchoring her with their steady presence. Eventually I’ll apologize for being an asshole. It won’t be today, though.

Cyrus has pulled back into himself, any bit of softness buried beneath the armor of his upbringing as he prepares to go to any length for Harper. I can see it in the depths of his eyes, his inner demons already rising to the surface to play. Any other day I’d try to help him overcome them; today, I’ll dance with them in the blood of anyone who stands between us and the woman we love.

Emerson and Banks have been leaning over maps and satellite images of the marshes closest to the island. Based on how small the engine was on the dinghy, we know he couldn’t have gone very far, and we have a general direction.

It’s not much information, but it’s something at least. Dad catches my eye and looks from my eyes to the den. I stand as he does and follow him inside, letting him close the door behind us.

“I suppose it’s pointless to ask you to stay behind and let the professionals handle this?” He leans against the desk and crosses his ankles.

I say nothing because of fucking course it’s pointless. He must see the answer on face because he sighs and looks up at the ceiling.

“We’re going to get her back. I swear it to you. My PI is already working on locating likely places they could have taken her based on who we suspect has her or has hired someone to take her.”

“Who do you think it is?”

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