Page 7 of Declan

It always has.

“How much do you owe?” I ask, my voice low and calm even though my pulse is thundering.

She sniffles. “Five thousand.”

Fuck. That’s not pocket change. That’s the kind of money people break bones over.

“I’ve got you,” I say instantly, my hand still smoothing down her back. “I’ll pay it.”

She jerks back, eyes wide with shock as she shakes her head furiously. “No, Declan. I can’t take that kind of money from you.”

I let out a breath of disbelief and chuckle softly, trying to ease the tension in her. “I’ll get it back from Wesley. He owes me a few favors anyway.”

Her panicked reaction is immediate. She grabs a fistful of my shirt, clutching it like it’s the only thing keeping her afloat.

“No! You can’t tell Wesley. Ever.”

I close my eyes, trying to stay calm even as her desperation claws at my chest. Her hand shakes against me, her grip trembling.

“Lena, he’s my best friend.”

“And he’s my brother!” she fires back, voice cracking. “I’ve already disappointed him enough. He’s always worrying about me, always picking up the pieces. If he finds out about this, about what I did, it’ll crush him. This will be the breaking point.”

Her eyes lock on mine, pleading. “Declan, please. I’m begging you. Keep this between us.”

This gir, she could very well be the end of me.

Because I’ve never been able to tell her no. Not once. Not when she cried over a scraped knee when we were kids. Not when she begged me to cover for her sneaking out as a teenager. Not now, when the stakes are so much higher.

My loyalty to Wesley runs deep. But Lena?

She owns me.

She’s as much my family as he is, more, maybe. Because I’d do things for her I’d never do for anyone else, including him.

I exhale slowly, brushing a tear from her cheek with the back of my knuckle.

“Okay, Lena. I won’t tell him. But you need to let me help you. Let me take care of this.”

Her bottom lip trembles, but she nods, finally, and leans back into my chest like she’s letting herself breathe for the first time all night.

And I hold her. Tighter this time. Because whatever hell is coming, she won’t face it alone.

Not on my watch.

I reach out, my fingertips barely brushing Lena’s arm in a gesture meant to comfort, but the moment I make contact, she flinches, sharp and immediate, like she’s been burned.

My brows knit together, as my voice drops to a dangerous low. “What was that?”

Lena pulls her arm back and tugs her sleeve down instinctively, but she’s not fast enough. I catch a glimpse of the ugly purple and yellow bruising blooming beneath her skin.

My stomach twists, a fire sparking in my chest. “Lena, what the fuck happened to your arm?”

She looks away, shame washing over her face in waves. “It’s nothing, Declan. I’m fine.”

“That’s not nothing. Someone put their hands on you,” I say, my voice is ice, lethal in its calm.

She hesitates, gnawing on her bottom lip, clearly torn. But I lean in closer, my jaw clenched tight. “Tell me who did it. Right now.”

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