Page 42 of Declan

A throat clears behind me. For fuck’s sake. One more interruption and my blue balls are going to be the death of me. Her face flushes deep red as she pulls away like I’ve suddenly turned radioactive. I reach for her, unwilling to let go, but Kian steps out of the corner, his expression grim.

“There was another attack,” he hisses, his teeth clenched. His eyes dart to Viviana, suspicion and anger swirling in his gaze. “Two men are dead.”

Damn it. So far, we haven’t had fatalities among our men.

“Where?” I demand, my eyes never leaving her. Her face betrays shock and worry, like a deer caught in headlights. There’s no way she knew about this—no way she could hide it that well.

“At Dubh Linn club,” Kian says, his voice low, his gaze locked on Viviana. He scans her face and body language, analysing, searching for even the smallest tell that she knows something.

“They attacked the club?” I straighten my shirt, adjusting my suit pants, waiting for my damn cock to calm down so I can move without feeling like I’ve got a hammer between my legs.

Kian nods, his expression grim.

“Get dressed, Vi. You’re coming with us,” I command. Her eyes shoot daggers at me, glaring from under those dark lashes.

“Now, Viviana. Or I’ll take you with us as you are.” My gaze sweeps over her, making sure she knows I mean it. She cringes, huffs, and, without another word, stalks off to her room.

“What the hell, Declan?” Connor mutters, his voice low as he rakes a hand through his hair.

“I need to see her reaction. She needs to face the reality of what’s happening. And maybe, just maybe, if she’s involved,she’ll show a hint of guilt, and I’ll catch it.” I let out a breath, unsure if this plan was as solid as I had hoped.

In the mirror, I make sure I look presentable—no more bulge, just a slight swelling in my lips from the way I kissed her. Licking my lips, I catch a faint trace of her sweetness lingering there, and my cock twitches in response.Steady, fella.There’s work to be done.

A few minutes later, Viviana comes down the stairs in jeans and a hoodie, her hair in a messy bun.

“I’m here.” Her voice falters for just a second, but I catch it. She’s nervous. Is it because of where we’re going, or is she afraid she’s been caught? Anger starts to simmer, but I push it down. I don’t need that right now.

As Kian drives us to the club, she keeps her gaze locked on the window.

“Two men died?” Her voice is laced with worry, her fingers fidgeting with the ends of her sleeves.

“Yes,” I reply curtly, not looking up from my phone as I scan the latest intel. The cops and firefighters are already on site.

When we arrive, chaos greets us. Flames are still licking at the remains, and two body bags lie near the ambulance. I glance at Viviana. She’s paler than usual, her eyes glistening with tears as she stares at the body bags. She takes a couple of shaky steps back, her breathing quickening. Is she having a panic attack?

Giovanni Morelli’s daughter must’ve seen worse than this, right? This is the girl with fiery eyes who nearly got us all killed by diving into a freezing river to escape me.

I stalk toward her and position myself in front of her, lifting her chin so her eyes lock on mine.

“Breathe, Viviana,” I say, keeping my voice calm and steady.

“Who would do something like this?” Tears pool at the corners of her eyes. “Didn’t they know there were men inside?”

“Whoever did this didn’t care. It’s a fucking war.” I try to keep the edge out of my voice.

“Do you know who might’ve done this?” I ask, searching her face, watching for even a flicker of guilt. But all I see is anger, fear, and sadness. Her nails dig into her sleeves, her breathing still erratic.

“Why the hell would I know that?!” she snaps, and there she is—the firecracker I love... or like.

“Maybe you heard something at your father’s place.” My voice is sharp but controlled, trying to keep her from exploding.

She stares at me for a beat too long. “Oh my God!” she yells, her hand cracking against my face. The slap is hard enough to turn my head. The sting burns hot. “You think I had something to do with this, don’t you?!”

I taste iron as I lick the corner of my mouth, smirking as I meet her fiery gaze. Firecracker’s got a strong right hand. “Did you?” I ask bluntly, stepping closer. “Did you have something to do with this? Or maybe your dear old dad?”

She swings again, but this time, I catch her wrist, using it to pull her close against my chest. “Now, now, that’s no way to treat your husband, especially here, firecracker.” I lift my other hand to her cheek, and she flinches, squeezing her eyes shut, bracing as if expecting a hit. Her body stiffens against me.

“I’m not going to hit you,” I whisper in her ear, my thumb brushing along her cheek. I search her face for guilt, for something, and then there it is—not guilt, but something else. She won’t meet my eyes, and it’s not embarrassment. Fear, maybe.

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