Page 70 of Declan

I swallow hard. How on earth will I tell Declan about Elva? About my father?

I take a deep breath, so deep that my entire body rises and falls with it. Flynn arches a brow, an amused glint in his eyes. I can’t help but mirror his expression, raising my eyebrow in return.

“Declan told me you are strong,” he smirks. “He’s right.”

“I don’t know if he likes that side of me all that much,” I chuckle, settling deeper into the chair I’ve been stuck in for what feels like hours. I’m so tired.

“Why do you think he chose you? We all knew it was only a matter of time before he fell for you.” Flynn leans back in his chair, casting a glance toward the door.

“We?” The word catches me off guard. “I thought Declan chose me because I’m the opposite of Elva.”

“Connor, Kian, and me,” Flynn says casually, his gaze meeting mine. “Did you meet Elva?”

“No, I didn’t,” I reply softly. “I saw pictures. She was beautiful, ethereal.” My voice dips lower, and I find myself fidgeting with the jacket draped over my shoulders.

“She was,” Flynn agrees, his tone tinged with melancholy. “But she was also fire. She pretended to be submissive in front of everyone, but behind closed doors, she pushed every button Declan had, and he loved it.”

His eyes darken, a shadow of sadness crossing his face. “He was never the same after her. But the day after your wedding…” Flynn pauses, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“We had a drink, and for the first time in years, I saw a glimpse of the old Declan when he talked about your statement black wedding dress.”

I can’t help but grin widely. “It’s my favorite dress,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

“He really likes you, Viviana,” Flynn says, his voice more serious now. His eyes lock onto mine, and I can feel the weight of his words. “He wouldn’t have called me to be here if he didn’t.”

I nod, unsure of how to respond. But what about my feelings toward Declan? We’ve had mind-blowing sex. He’s saved me twice… Well, counting this time, it’s three times now. But…

“She can go,” John’s voice cuts through my thoughts as he steps into the room. I glanced up, surprised to see Flynn already on his feet. How long has he been standing there?

“Where’s Nolan?” Flynn asks; his tone is casual, though there’s an edge to it.

“Upstairs,” John sighs, sounding defeated.

“Tell him not to run; it’ll only make things worse.” Flynn walks toward me, gently grabbing my arm to help me up from the chair. My legs feel numb, and my entire body aches from the position I’ve been in. “Maybe Declan will spare him,” he adds with a smirk, his lips curling slightly at the corner. John nods, his lips twitching in amusement.

These men are insane. There’s no way I’m letting Declan kill Nolan. Sure, he messed up, but no real harm was done in the end.

As we step out of the warehouse, the cool night air hits me, and I realize how much time has passed. Night? Jesus, how many hours was I in there?

“We’re heading to Declan’s penthouse in the city,” Flynn says, opening the car door and waiting for me to slide in. Once I’m settled, he climbs in beside me and signals the driver to go.

“Penthouse?” I ask, blinking at him. Since when does Declan have a penthouse?

Flynn chuckles. “Declan has a bunch of houses. The estate is the more permanent one, but he knew you were here, and the penthouse is closer to the docks in case he needed to raid the place to get you.” He winks as if this is the most normal thing in the world.

Fucking hell. They talk about raids, killing, and kidnapping like it’s their daily routine. Wait, of course, it is their daily routine, and it’s becoming mine.

“Just letting him know we’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Flynn says, his fingers flying across his phone as he texts Declan.

And now I need to prepare myself to tell Declan the truth.

Chapter 23

Viviana

Flynn presses the penthouse button in the elevator. My hands are sweating, and I'm struggling to catch my breath. Anxiety tightness in my stomach. Flynn remains silent, his tall frame leaning against the elevator wall, stealing occasional glances at me, checking if I'm holding it together.

The elevator doors don't open, sharp and sudden, and my heart skips. Declan stands just beyond the threshold, his presence overwhelming in the soft, cold light of the chandelier. His black shirt clings to his broad chest, and the rolled-up sleeves reveal forearms taut with barely contained tension. His face is unreadable, but the storm in his dark eyes says everything.

---