Page 72 of Declan

I feel Declan's hand under my chin, tilting my face up. His rough fingers are steady but gentle, and I meet his eyes reluctantly. The worry in them hits me like a punch.

"Do you really think I'm going to kill you?" His voice is low, huskier than usual.

I swallow hard. "If you're not, then why did you bring me into this room with…" I gesture vaguely at Flynn, "him?"

Declan glances at Flynn, who simply shrugs.

"Scare tactic," Flynn says casually.

Declan turns back to me, his expression softening slightly. "I wanted to make sure you'd tell the truth. But I would never kill you, Viviana."

My brows draw together in disbelief. "This was a scare tactic?" I gasp. "This motherfucker!"

Without thinking, I clench my fist and punch him square in the jaw. I feel a sting in my knuckles, but the satisfaction of releasing that pent-up anger makes it worth it.

He steps back, stunned, and Flynn bursts into laughter. "Fucking hell! That's one hell of a right hand," he chuckles, doubling over.

Declan's hand rises to his face, fingers brushing the reddening spot where I hit him. The corner of his lip swells slightly. "You use a scare tactic on me?" I yell, my anger bubbling over. "I hate you so much right now, Declan!"

"Fuck," Declan mutters, his voice tinged with amusement. His smirk returns, the glint in his eye making my anger burn even hotter. "Almost forgot about that fucking right arm of yours!"

"I should punch you too," I snap, turning to Flynn, who immediately raises his hands in surrender.

"Nah, I'm good, sweetheart," he says, grinning wider.

"You should let her," Declan says, still massaging his jaw, his expression amused.

Flynn straightens up with a devilish grin and turns to Declan. "I'll leave that to you mate. What's the next move, besides getting punched by your lovely wife?" He winks at me.

Declan's expression hardens, his jaw tightening as he mutters, "Nolan Keeffe."

"No! Not that!" I cut in, my voice sharp as I pushed against his shirt. Declan turns to face me, brow furrowing in annoyance.

"Why not?" he asks, his tone carrying disbelief, as though my objection is some ridiculous request.

"I'm fine." I raise my hands, gesturing down my body. "See?" I say firmly. "Nothing happened. You are not going to kill him."

Declan studies me for a long, uncomfortable moment before exhaling heavily and shifting his gaze to Flynn. "Fine. Just give him something to remind him whose wife he isn't going to touch. Ever."

Flynn's grin twists into something sinister, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"Did you hear me?!" I snap, grabbing Declan's arm to force his attention back to me.

"I did," he replies with maddening calm. "You said not to kill him, and I agreed." His smirk deepens, a dangerous glint in his eye as he

licks his bottom lip. "But you didn't say anything about teaching him a lesson."

I throw my hands up in frustration. "I swear, you Irish men are insane—always out for blood!"

Declan's smirk widens into a knowing wink, and Flynn chuckles, his tone shifting to something darker. "And Giovanni?"

Declan's entire demeanour hardens, his body coiling like a predator ready to strike. "My brothers are on it," he says coldly, his voice devoid of any amusement. The icy calm sends a chill down my spine.

"Declan," I murmur, feeling a sharp pain in my stomach.

He turns to me, his gaze softening slightly. "Don't worry. I'm not going to kill him. Yet." His knuckles brush my cheek in a gesture so tender it nearly breaks me. "I need to deal with the Koslovs first. But after that, Viviana? I will kill him."

The weight of his words cuts deep. Deep down, I know he's right—my father's betrayal has crossed every line. He doesn't deserve forgiveness.

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