Page 75 of Declan

“I have a plan,” I say with a smirk, leaning back in the chair. “Just waiting for Connor and Kian to get back.”

Flynn smiles, nodding again. It’s going to be a long week.

“You can take the second room in the back,” I add, standing up. “No need to drive all the way to your estate at this hour.”

“Then keep the moans down, you fucker!” Flynn’s sarcastic tone follows me as I head toward the bedroom, his laughter chasing after my own.

I pause in the hallway for a moment, glancing toward the main door. I swear I heard something, a faint, distant sound like footsteps too light to belong to any of my men. But no one was there when I checked the security feed on my phone.

I really need to sleep; I’m getting paranoid.

Stepping into the small bedroom, my body immediately relaxes, her scent enveloping me like a warm embrace.

Viviana lies sprawled across the bed, naked, her raven-black hair spilling across the pillow in soft waves. The faint light from the window highlights the curve of her back and the pale perfection of her skin, glowing in the dim room.

Tomorrow, I’ll tell her the plan. Tonight? Tonight, I just want to lay next to my wife, bury myself inside her over and over, and make sure Flynn hears every one of her beautiful little moans.

I hear the elevator moving, a mechanical hum that freezes me mid-breath. My gaze flicks to my phone. No messages from my brothers. The realization slams into me like a fist. Fuck!

I leap out of bed, the sudden motion making Viviana sit up, clutching the sheet to her chest. Her raven hair spills around her shoulders, her wide eyes searching my face.

“What is it?” she whispers, her voice shaky but alert.

“Shhh.” My voice is a sharp whisper as I yank open two drawers, pulling out a knife and a gun. I turn to her, my tone quick and clipped. “Can you use this?”

Her eyes blink shut for a moment, her lips parting, but then her jaw sets. She nods, determination replacing hesitation. Tossing the sheets aside, she grabs my shirt, slipping it over her body as I tug on a pair of sweatpants.

I signal for her to stay put, one finger pressed to my lips. Slowly, I crack open the door, my eyes darting to the dark hallway. The familiar shadows of the penthouse feel wrong, stretched and jagged.

I whistle softly. A sharp, answering whistle echoes back. Good. Flynn’s also up.

The air feels heavy as I step out. Every sound seems amplified—the faint hum of the city below, the soft creak of thehardwood beneath my feet. The penthouse is too quiet, the usual low murmur of the air conditioning drowned out by an eerie stillness.

I slip behind the kitchen counter, pressing my back against the cold marble. Across the room, Flynn crouches by the marble bar, his shadow blending into the light. Our eyes meet, and he nods toward the elevator.

Ding.

My pulse quickens, but my grip on the gun remains steady. The elevator doors slide open, and chaos erupts.

Bullets rip through the air, shattering glass and ricocheting off the marble. The acrid smell of gunpowder fills the room.

I glance up at the security cameras. They’re moving, controlled remotely. Fuckers hacked us.

“Cameras!” I hiss to Flynn, jerking my head toward the ceiling.

Flynn drops flat, firing back at the attackers with ruthless precision. Muzzle flashes light up the room like a strobe, illuminating the chaos. Using his cover fire, I aim to the cameras, my shots ringing out over the deafening noise. Taking the cameras off gives us a new advantage.

A sharp clink echoes on the floor.

“Smoke!” Flynn yells, his voice cutting through the chaos.

A grey plume floods the room, thick and choking. My eyes water as I pull my shirt over my nose, shifting to a new position. Through the haze, I spot a shadow moving.

I fire.

One shot. A figure collapses, his body hitting the floor with a sickening thud. I step closer and deliver a second shot to the head.

“One!” I yell over the noise.

---