Page 68 of Declan

“You think this is a game?” John’s voice drops, trying to intimidate me with a rumble. He leans in closer, hoping I’ll flinch.

“In some ways, it is,” I reply, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Two grown men, supposedly seasoned professionals, dragging me in here over a burner phone. A phone that neither of you can trace. A phone with,” I pause, pretending to think, “three messages detailing attack times and locations, signed with my name no less.” I laugh bitterly, my anger rising. “Do you really think I’d orchestrate an attack, go out of my way to make it untraceable, and then slap my signature at the end? Are you that dense?”

John leans back, but the door creaks open, interrupting the tension in the room.

“She’s got a point,” a deep voice says from the doorway. The footsteps that follow are firm and deliberate. A man steps into view—tall, almost towering, with golden hair and piercing green eyes. A tattoo peeks out from beneath his collar, just a hint of ink that makes my heart skip a beat. His jawline is sharp, almost unnervingly

perfect, and his smile is dangerous. I recognize him from the wedding.

“Flynn Brady,” he says smoothly, extending a hand. His voice is low, smooth, and edged with something I can’t quite place. AsI shake his hand, his gaze sweeps over me, lingering a moment too long on my face, my neck, my chest, and finally, my hands.

“Viviana…” I hesitate, unsure which last name to use.

“Callaghan,” he finishes, his smile twitching. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances.” His tone sharpens as he locks eyes with me, and I feel the weight of his stare.

“What the hell are you doing here, Brady?” Nolan spits, his anger bubbling over as he stops pacing.

Flynn doesn’t flinch. “As the next in line for the Irish Consortium, it’s my responsibility to be here. You, however,” he waves a dismissive hand toward Nolan, “are optional.”

“I have every right to be here!” Nolan snaps, stepping forward.

In one fluid motion, Flynn grabs Nolan’s wrist, twisting it with brutal precision, forcing him to bend over in pain. I can’t suppress the amused smile that curves my lips. I’m starting to like this Flynn guy.

“Let’s calm down,” John interjects quickly, standing up and pulling Nolan upright as Flynn releases him.

The tension is thick as the two men exchange glares. I clear my throat to draw their attention back to me.

“Look, this is all very fascinating,” I say, dripping sarcasm, “but can we get back to the part where you accuse me of something I didn’t do?” My patience is starting to run thin.

Nolan loses it, lunging toward me, but before he can reach me, he’s flung across the room, crashing hard against the concrete wall. Flynn is suddenly standing beside me, his massive frame looming protectively.

“Touch her,” Flynn growls, his voice low and dangerous, “and we’ll have bigger problems than burning warehouses, Keeffe.”

Flynn’s as big as Declan, and from the way his suit strains against his muscles, it’s clear he’s just as built. He turns to faceme one massive hand rests on the table, the other on my chair, boxing me in. I meet his gaze, unwavering. I won’t shrink under his presence.

He leans in, his breath brushing against my ear as he whispers, “I promised Declan I’d keep you safe.”

My heart skips, and my breathing picks up a notch, but I hold it in check, afraid that showing even a hint of weakness might be mistaken for fear. I nod, keeping my face neutral.

“Is the phone all you have?” Flynn asks, turning his attention back to John, who’s trying to help Nolan to his feet.

“Yeah, and it’s enough!” Nolan snaps, his voice rising with irritation.

Flynn narrows his eyes at Nolan before looking back at me, his gaze softening. “Viviana, are you working for the Russians?”

“No,” I answer sharply, never breaking eye contact.

“And why should we believe you?” he asks, his tone calm as if this is a simple question about coffee preferences.

“I don’t even work for my father,” I snap, frustration bubbling. “Let alone Aleksandr and his fucked-up cousin.”

Flynn tilts his head, watching me carefully. “You know the Koslovs?”

“Yes,” I answered cautiously, watching his subtle reactions. “We all went to school together.”

Flynn raises an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to Nolan, and I realize he’s signalling me.

“I went to high school with them,” I continued. “Aleksandr was a year ahead, and his cousin in the same class as me. And Nolan was the same year as me.” I nod toward him.

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