Page 60 of Declan

Before I can scream for Declan’s men outside, another hand slaps over my mouth, silencing me. My heart slams in my chest as I twist and struggle, but the man holding me is massive, his grip unyielding.

I glance to the side, only to see another man flanking him, just as large and dressed in the same dark suit.

Tears well in my eyes, but I won’t go quietly. My body jerks violently as I thrash against him, fury fuelling my desperation. I kick the table in front of me, the force sending us stumbling back.

The distraction is enough to make him loosen his grip. I seize the moment, ramming my elbow into his ribs and shoving him back against a chair.

I dart to the right, avoiding his grasping hands. Grabbing the bottle of wine, I smash it against the edge of the bar. Glass shatters, flying everywhere. He lunges at me, but I swing the jagged bottle, slicing through his shirt.

“Fucking bitch,” he snarls, his thick Russian accent a dead giveaway of who sent him.

The door to the restaurant slams open, the sound sharp and thunderous. I whip my head toward it and see Declan, his figure like a dark storm, as he charges inside. He looks like a ravenous lion, his eyes locked on the men in front of me. His men storm in behind him.

“This one is mine,” Declan snarls.

The man who grabbed me barely has time to react before Declan launches himself at him, his movements swift and lethal.

My jaw drops at the sight. I understand even more now why so many fear him—why my father fears him. Right now, this isn’t the Declan I know. This is a feral animal on a mission to kill.

“You touched her,” Declan grunts, his voice low and dangerous, like a wolf’s snarl. “You touched what’s mine.” His fist slams into the man’s jaw with a sickening crunch. “Now I’ll break every fucking finger that touched her skin.”

The man stumbles back, blood dripping from his mouth as he mutters something in Russian. Declan doesn’t let him up. He advances with a predator’s precision, his fists connecting again and again. Punches kick—the man tries to cover himself, but it’s nearly impossible. Declan reaches every inch of unprotected flesh.

The second attacker is on the ground, secured by Declan’s men. They look at him, waiting for a sign to intervene, but Declan doesn’t spare them a glance. His entire focus remains locked on the Russians. He only takes his eyes off him to flick his gaze on me. For a brief moment, his dark, feral eyes meet mine before returning to the man in the suit.

I take a shaky step back, but the fight is too close, and fallen tables and chairs surround me. Declan grabs the man by the collar and slams him into the bar, away from where I’m standing. The force rattles the bottles on the shelves. The man struggles, swinging wildly, but Declan is faster. He sidesteps and twists the man’s arm behind his back, and I hear a crack. Did he just break the man’s arm with his bare hand?

“Who the fuck sent you?” Declan snarls, but the man just smiles and mutters something in Russian. Declan smirks darkly, shoving him toward his men. “Take them to the docks,” he barks.

His gaze shifts to me. My dress is a mess, my hair looks like a rat’s nest, and there’s a small cut on my hand from the broken bottle. My breathing is still ragged, but instead of anger or concern, Declan looks at me with a proud glint in his eyes. I lift my chin defiantly.

“I had it under control,” I snap, tugging my dress down as his eyes shamelessly trail to my exposed thighs. He licks his bottom lip, and I swear I see amusement flicker across his face.

“I know,” he says with a wicked grin, stepping closer. “I just couldn’t let you have all the fun.”

Before I can respond, a sudden noise comes from the back of the room. Silvana storms out, making a beeline for the door. She doesn’t get far. Declan moves like a predator, slamming her against the wall and caging her in with his arms before she can even react.

“Not so fast, Silvana,” he snaps, his voice low and menacing.

I grab his arm, tugging with everything I have, but it’s like trying to move a goddamn mountain. He doesn’t even flinch.

“You can’t hurt her!” I yell, desperation making my voice shake.

He doesn’t acknowledge me; his focus is fixed entirely on her.

“I’m not going to hurt her,” he says, that devilish smirk returning. “Not if she tells me what I want to know.”

“I-I don’t know anything!” Silvana stammers, her voice several tones too high. “I heard the commotion and stayed in the bathroom.” Each word tumbles out, shaky and unsure, her wide eyes locking onto Declan’s. Her breathing turns ragged as his presence towers over her like a shadow.

Declan doesn’t move. His posture remains controlled, steady, cold, and menacing. Even though Silvana is tall, he bends down, his face inches from hers, his arms braced on either side of her. He is every bit the predator.

“Right,” he says flatly, taking a deliberate step back. His arms lower, his body relaxing, but the menace doesn’t fade. He nods toward the door.

Silvana hesitates, her gaze darting from him to me, panic flickering in her eyes. “My driver is outside,” she mutters before bolting. I’ve never seen Silvana run in my life—not even as a child. Running isn’t ladylike, after all.

I glance back at Declan, but his expression is unreadable, his features carved in stone. That veil he wears is firmly in place, hiding every thought behind his eyes. Then, slowly, the corner of his lips curls into a faint smile.

“She didn’t ask what happened,” he murmurs, turning to me, his voice dripping with quiet amusement. “Or if you got hurt.”

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