Page 19 of The Enforcer's Redemption

"Thank you. I'll send Sera to bring you fresh cloths for that cut. Without stitches, I think it's going to keep bleeding." I'm moreconcerned for her mental wellbeing than the cut, though she'll probably have a nasty scar.

"Finn will be here with anesthetic and my suture kit, Declan." Maeve stands and rests a hand on my bicep. Her compassionate bedside manner is comforting to me, especially in such a hostile world where men expect one another to buck up under loads like this and never show weakness. Isla shouldn't have to be treated like that. I'm grateful Ronan's wisdom in choosing a surgeon as a mate has helped bring some of those feminine touches to our family, the ones we lost when Mum died.

"Thank you," I tell her, and I nod as I turn toward the stairs. It pains me to leave Isla, but after such a brazen attack like that, we have to do something. Sebastian is bold as hell thinking he can blow my car off the road and get away with it.

Our cleaners will make it look like a two-car accident, and my limo is probably already in the crusher waiting to be melted down. Eight of his men are dead, and Nicholas is off at the hospital for observation. I'm livid and despite my own injuries, I'm not slowing down.

My feet carry me into the living room where Ronan and Connor stand talking. Their eyes perk up as I enter, and Ronan asks, "How is she?"

I have to swallow the knot in my throat and clear it with a cough. "Maeve says she has a concussion and a nasty gash, but she's fucked up, Ro. Women should never see shit like that." I walk straight to my liquor cabinet and pull out three tumblers, filling each of them with Writer's Tears, then nodding at them with my back to my brothers. They join me, and each of them picks up a glass. We drink in silence.

To think how close I came to destroying everything all because I have this incessant need to prove myself. I couldn't trust Finn or Connor to watch her at my house. I have to take things into my own hands and I fuck them up. Maybe Brynn is right and I don’t belong in the position I hold.

"This wasn't about the money, Declan." Ronan's rumble makes me tense. "It was about principle. She stole. They want her dead. She humiliated them, and we're protecting her—in fact, we are ensuring she will always be protected, and they will stop at nothing to make sure she dies before that wedding."

"The alliance, though…" Connor's comment comes on the back side of Ronan's obvious statement.

"The alliance won't go through without the wedding." I turn to the leader of our family, our chief, and I say, "I'm gonna hunt him down right now." Anger surges through me. I can barely control my urge to shatter this glass against my fireplace. "I'm gonna go out there and find him and slit him from pelvis to sternum."

"Now hold on," Ro says, pressing a hand to my chest. He sets his glass down and sucks in a deep, calming breath. But there's no breath deep enough to calm me. I'm outraged. The man attempted to kill my wife-to-be. "You're not thinking clearly. We have a plan."

"He shot up my car on the side of the road!" I scream, and my arms fly upward at the same time. I throw the glass into the hearth, and it shatters and sends splinters skittering across my wood floors. "She's my wife, Ro. We're not talking about an asset or a 'package'. She belongs to me, and he's threatening that."

I lean into his hand and he glares at me sternly. He knows I won't rebel against him, that my hands are tied and as long as he demands we hold off, I have to obey him. He knows that because of the situation I've put myself in, I would be openly telling this family that I hate him and his authority over me if I go against him in this, and he knows I won't do that.

But I want to.

My God, do I want to find Sebastian and use the tendons on his body to tie up every one of his enemies and burn them alive.

"Declan, take a breath. Control this." His eyes bear down on me, and I clench my jaw. His calculated stare is like my father's—dark, menacing, angry. I can't resist him or I’m risking my life. "The best thing we can do is go through with our plan. Your marriage is a death warrant to his desire. He won't lay a finger on her as long as she is your wife."

I'm seething, ready to tear Ronan's head off too, but I can't do anything about it. "Then bring the minister. I'll marry her now." My chest feels like it will explode. Protecting Isla is my number-one priority now, and it isn't even about this fucking alliance with her father anymore. It's her. I love her. I won't let anything happen to her.

"Breathe," he says again, "and take it slow. The publicity from the ceremony at my house is what we need. We want every head of every family in this city to know she belongs to us. That she's one of us now. The wedding at my home will go on as planned, and she will be safe."

He pulls away from me, and I watch Connor set his drink down. The expression on my younger brother's face is less certain, buteven if he were to agree with me and want to hunt Sebastian down, we'd have to face Ronan’s wrath.

I'm stuck. My hands are tied, and my brother is leaving.

"Do me a favor and make sure Maeve sleeps a little. She likes to helicopter over her patients." Ronan walks out, and Connor offers a look of compassion as he follows, and I'm stuck with my rage and my liquor, wishing I could murder that bastard for even thinking of hurting Isla. I won't let him get her, and I won't let anyone touch her ever again. Even if in the end, she still doesn't want me, I will protect her just like I promised.

14

ISLA

My head is pounding and the light nausea lingering is enough to keep me from resting despite feeling exhausted. That and the relentless nightmares I'm suffering. I'm alone in the room, still in Declan's giant bed. It smells like him, which is mildly pleasant. It's a subconscious trigger that lulls me into a sense of safety. Breathing him in during the middle of that attack was the only thing that kept me sane.

My entire body feels sore, the ache so deep it penetrates my bones. Much of the accident and the fire fight that followed are lost from my memory, but my body remembers. Every tender purple spot on my flesh tells the story of where I was struck or slammed against things. My knees feel raw as mince from being ground across the pavement. It hurts to bend my legs too.

I've been living in denial, and it's obvious now. My naivety is probably obvious to Declan and his brothers too. Had I been alone out there, no doubt I'd have been raped, tortured, and eventually killed by Sebastian O’Reilly and his men. They would surely have brought me to him so he could take his fill too,dishonoring me and humiliating me before dragging out my murder in a slow and agonizing fashion.

But I'm safe here thanks to Declan and his brothers. I'm in his warm bed, comfortable as I can be with all these bruises, and allowed to rest and recover at my pace. I'm not sure how many days it's been. I remember taking a few meals and throwing them up instantly. Maeve says it's the head injury, and I can't wait until that heals. I don't think I could escape now if I tried. My body is too weak, which means I have to plot out a new path forward and give myself time to recover fully.

It also means the time table I'm on is too short for an escape before this wedding. But I'm not as bothered by that as I was before. Even if I do say yes to the dress, I can still escape. My new identity won't be married. She'll be free to do as she pleases, and I will find love someday. Maybe not like him, definitely not like this family. But true love that's safe.

"How do you feel?" I hear, and I turn over to see Declan standing behind me. He's wearing only his towel around his waist, his body glistening with moisture. I never heard the shower running, though the loud ringing in my ears from the blow to my head is deafening. I may not hear soft sounds like that for a while.

"Sore," I croak, turning all the way around to face him. I lie on my side wondering why he looks at me so differently now, with softness and compassion. Where is the monster who murders people and enforces the O'Rourke law? For some reason, this version of him intimidates me, puts me under a spell that has me curling inward. This one is more dangerous than the other. This one will consume my heart and soul. The other can only kill my body.

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