Page 62 of Declan

“Is that why you’re lying?” I let her space, nodding at Kian and Connor to do the same. “You think I’ll kill you after everything I’ve done for you,” I pause, my eyes locked on hers. “To you,” I rumble, feeling the anger inside starting to simmer. How can she not trust me? After fucking saving her life again!

“I—” Her voice cracks as she shakes her head, tears spilling over her lashes. I’ve never seen her cry, not like this, and the sight tightens something raw in my chest, leaving my heart scrambling to figure out how the hell to react.

“It’s bad, Declan. It’s really bad,” she whispers, her voice trembling. She wipes her face with the back of her hand, her other gripping the edge of her dress like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. When she looks up at me, her wide, pleading eyes knock the air from my lungs.

Stepping closer, I reach for her hand, my fingers wrapping around hers as I raise it to my lips. I kiss the tears still clinging to her knuckles, their salty wetness brushing against my skin. “Trust me,” I murmur, softening my voice. “Just this once.”

She bites her bottom lip, the same lip that has driven me mad more times than I can count, and I can see it tremble under the pressure of her teeth. Her eyes, rimmed with red and heavy with unshed tears, meet mine briefly before flitting away. She’sholding it all in, the weight of it crushing her, but still, she fights to keep herself composed.

“I think he’s working with the Koslovs,” she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper.

I stare at her, unblinking. “We know,” I say simply, watching her blink open with shock.

“But why would he order a hit on you for that?”

She shrugs, but the movement is stiff, unnatural. “I don’t know. Maybe because he wants information and I don’t give him any.” Her words come too fast, and her gaze doesn’t meet mine.

I don’t believe her. Something isn’t adding up. Her fear, the way she hedges her words, it’s like she’s walking on a knife’s edge. If her father wanted her dead, there has to be more to this than she’s letting on.

Straightening, I take a deep breath and nod toward Connor. He steps forward, opening the door without a word.

“Leave,” I say flatly.

She doesn’t protest. Like her lying sister, she storms out. A minute later, I hear the slam of her bedroom door echoes down the hall.

“She’s lying,” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.

“Yup,” Kian sighs, his arms crossed.

“But why?” Connor asks, his face flushed with frustration as he exhales sharply.

“I don’t know,” I admit, my eyes still locked on the door she disappeared through. But the look she gave me before leaving—it’s etched into me now. Whatever she’s hiding, she’s taken a piece of my damn heart with it; this will tear us apart, I know.

“What are you going to do?” Kian asks, his voice low.

Shaking my head, I grab the whiskey bottle and pour myself a glass. “I have no fucking idea. But she’s got a target on her back now.”

The glass creaks under the pressure of my grip, and flashes of Elva’s lifeless body flood my mind: the dirt, the blood, the horror. My jaw tightens. “I won’t let history repeat itself.”

As I leave the office, tension burns in my chest. In my bedroom, the cold emptiness hits me like a punch to the gut. Her scent, faint but unmistakable, clings to the air, mocking me. The room feels hollow, devoid of life—just like me without her.

How the hell did I get here? She was just someone to have fun with, to push. But after this whole week of fucking her and having her sleep softly next to me, I can’t think of my life without her.

I could break her door down, drag her out, and force her to stay with me. But I can’t let my emotions take control. Not now.

Sleep doesn’t come tonight. My mind runs in circles, grasping for a solution that doesn’t exist. When the door bursts open at dawn, Connor’s face is grim.

“The Keeffes and the Flanaghans are here,” he announces, urgency cutting through his words. “They came for Viviana.”

A snarl rips from my chest as I storm past him, my hand brushing the weapon at my side. Nolan stands in the living room, and my vision blurs with fury as I grab him by the collar, slamming him against the wall.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I rasp, my voice low and deadly.

“Easy, Declan,” Flanagan says, his tone infuriatingly calm and measured.

“We have new intel,” Nolan says, straightening his jacket as I shove him aside. “We know who the Koslov’s informant is.”

“Oh, yeah?” I snap, my fists itching to connect with his smug face. “Who?”

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