Page 37 of His Temptation

And yet, unease crawled beneath his skin, a primal warning that refused to be ignored.

Sebastian Wolfe had finally bared his teeth, putting a bounty on Daragh’s head for any bastard foolish enough to take the job. It was an act of desperation. A declaration of war. And Daragh welcomed it.

Across the room, Siobhan sat curled up in an armchair, wrapped in the robe he’d given her earlier. The fabric had slipped off one of her shoulders, revealing the delicate bite mark at her nape. His mark. She had barely spoken since the meeting in the main hall, her thoughts turned inward, her expression unreadable.

He could tell she was thinking about Sebastian. About what it meant that he had set his sights on Daragh instead of her. It was good for her to worry. Maybe then she would start to understand that her survival was no longer her concern alone—it was his.

A knock at the door interrupted the silence. Murphy stepped inside, his expression grim. “Patrol caught movement near the south perimeter. Could be nothing. Could be something.”

Daragh downed the rest of his whiskey, setting the glass aside with deliberate care. “Send a team to check it out. Make sure they’re ready for anything.”

Murphy nodded and disappeared into the hall, his boot steps fading into the distance.

Siobhan shifted in her chair, stretching out her legs. “You’re expecting trouble.”

Daragh arched an eyebrow at her. “We’re at war, kitten. Trouble is inevitable.”

She hugged her arms around herself; her gaze flicking to the window. The moon was high, casting long shadows across the grounds. She was thinking again. Calculating. He could see it in the way her jaw tightened, the way her fingers flexed against the armrest.

He strode toward her, stopping just beside the chair. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

She looked up at him, her green eyes sharp. “Sebastian won’t stop. You know that, right? He won’t accept defeat. He’ll just escalate.”

Daragh hummed, running his fingers through her hair. “Let him.”

Her expression darkened. “You don’t understand. He doesn’t just want you dead—he wants to make an example out of you. He’ll send men, over and over again. They’re just cannon fodder. And if he can’t kill you, he’ll come for me. He’ll use me to break you.”

Daragh gripped her chin, tilting her face up to his. “He won’t touch you. You are mine.”

A knock sounded again—harder, faster. This time, Finn’s voice carried through the wood. “Daragh! Get out here. Now.”

Daragh’s pulse kicked up. He turned toward the door just as the first gunshot rang out and chaos erupted.

Daragh yanked Siobhan to her feet, pushing her toward the far side of the room. “Stay down.”

She barely had time to react before the next round of shots shattered the windows, glass raining down like razor-edged stars. The house trembled under the assault, gunfire sounding through the halls as the estate’s security forces returned fire.

Daragh didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the Glock from his desk, racking the slide as he moved toward the door.

Murphy barreled inside, blood streaking his arm. “They came through the south fence. At least ten of them, maybe more. They’re trying to breach the main house.”

Daragh cursed under his breath. A rival gang, no doubt. Someone greedy enough to try to earn Sebastian’s bounty, stupid enough to think they could succeed.

He turned to Siobhan. “Stay here.”

She glared at him. “Like hell.”

“Siobhan.” His voice was sharp, edged with command. “Do not test me.”

But she was already moving, grabbing the pistol he had given her days ago.

Murphy shot him a look. “She’s your wife.”

Daragh let out a frustrated breath. “Aye. Unfortunately, she is.”

Then he kicked open the door and stepped into the war zone.

Gunfire ricocheted off the stone walls, splintering wood, sending portraits crashing to the floor. Daragh moved withlethal precision, his Glock raised, his body a weapon honed for moments like this.

---