Chapter 32
Declan
I spit blood onto the floor, my eyes locked on Alek. Even now, he holds that arrogant glare, the bastard still thinking he has a chance. But he doesn’t. My men are here, and so are Flynns. The only edge Alek Koslov ever had was attacking us from the shadows. Now that we’ve found his lair, there’s no way out .
But I’m not going to kill him—not yet. He’s going to be a fucking example.
“I fucked her,” he snarls, spitting blood, nearly hitting my boots. “Did she tell you that? She was fucking sweet, bent her over, made her scream in pain, crying, begging me to stop.” His words drip with malice.
Fucker raped her, and he’s going to pay for it I don’t give him the satisfaction of finishing.
Grabbing a chair, I slam it into him. He tries to duck but isn’t fast enough. The chair crashes against his arm with a sickening crack, his scream echoing through the room, raw and agonized.
“Fucking idiot,” I roar, climbing on top of him. My fist connects with his nose, a brutal crunch following. “You just couldn’t stand sharing the fucking docks, could you?”
Blood sprays as I throw another punch. His head snaps to the side, but he’s still grinning.
“Your father was killed over the same shit! Don’t you Koslovs ever fucking learn?” Another punch. Harder. Faster. Blood splatters across my knuckles as he weakly raises his good arm, trying to shield himself.
“And Elva?” I snarl, leaning closer, my fist colliding with his jaw.
Alek laughs through the blood. “Elva was too easy. How the fuck did you let your future wife walk around with just a couple of guards?”
My fists move faster, pounding his chin, chest, and ribs. I straddle him, pinning him down, making it impossible for him to escape. His face is a mess of blood and swelling, but he keeps talking.
“You think you own the fucking world,” he spits, his voice hoarse. “You wanted more and more, raising taxes, taking profits you didn’t fucking need.”
“Who had men at the docks when shit went down?” I snarl, glaring at him. “Who had their name on the lease in case the FBI came sniffing around? Who paid off the fucking cops?”
He stops fighting back, just staring up at me, his chest heaving.
“We did!” I bellow, my voice shaking with fury. “Every shipment. Every bribe. Every fucking risk is under the Irish Consortium’s name, not the Koslovs or the Morellis!”
I push off him and stand, my chest rising and falling as I stare at his broken body. Blood pools around him, staining the floor, but he’s still smirking.
“You can kill me,” he rasps, his voice dripping with malice. “I’ve already done more than you ever expected. Elva, Nolan, your men… And you’ll always know I was inside Viviana.”
My jaw tightens, fists clenching as I step toward him, grabbing his shirt and yanking him forward. “I know what you’re doing, Koslov. It won’t work,” I grunt before shoving him back.
Dropping him like the filth he is, I turn and head outside, where the silence hits me, deafening. No more gunshots. No more screams. Just the groans of the dying as Connor and the rest of our men finish the job. The order is clear: no one is left alive this time.
“Kian, take that piece of shit back to the estate. Make sure he stays breathing until then,” I command, brushing the blood off my hands in my black shirt as I stride toward the woods.
My ribs ache, each step sending a jolt of pain through me, but I don’t stop. I find the SUV, her muffled yelling echoing inside the bulletproof car. Even now, she’s a firecracker. I smirk.
A guard stands by the tree, gun raised and eyes sharp. I signal him to unlock the doors. As soon as the lock clicks, Viviana bursts out like a storm, crashing into my arms. I catch her, barely managing to hide the wince as her weight presses against my ribs, probably
broken, definitely bruised. I could’ve ended Alek back there, put a bullet in his head, and been done with it. But no. I needed to feel his flesh tearing under my hands. I needed that fight.
“Are you okay?” she demands, her voice sharp, laced with fury, but beneath it, I hear the worry. Her body tenses, her right hand twitching, and I know what’s coming.
“I’m fine, firecracker,” I say, giving her some space. I’m not going to stop her.
Her right fist comes up and connects with my chin, snapping my head to the side. Pain shoots through me, sharp and bright, but honestly, I’m already too sore for it to matter much.
As soon as her hand drops, she throws her arms around me again. “You fucking locked me in there!” she yells into my chest, voice muffled by the fabric.
I bite back a laugh, putting on an exaggeratedly offended tone. “Me? I was fighting for my life! You should be hitting Kian!”
“I already did,” she mutters, and I feel her chuckle against me.
“Is it over? My father?” Her voice softens, the weight of the question hanging between us.
I take a deep breath, gripping her shoulders and pulling her back just enough to meet her gaze. “It’s over, Viviana. Your father too.” I watch her carefully, searching for a reaction. No tears fall, but I see the shadows darkening her eyes, pain, and something heavier lurking beneath.
“And…” She hesitates, her voice trembling as the shadows deepen. “Silvana? Bruna?”
I hold her gaze, steady and sure. “I told you I wasn’t going to hurt them. For you.” But doubt flickers in her eyes, and I see the fear clawing its way out.
“But Alek said…” Tears stream down her face, and I reach up to wipe them away with my bloodied hand. “He said you killed them both. He… he had cameras outside the house.”
That little bastard. I’ll make him suffer for this, for making her think I’d break my word.
“She’s at the mansion, Viviana. Waiting for you. Bruna ran to Italy.” Her eyes search mine, desperate for the truth. “What happens next with them is up to you,” I add. They’ll need a hard conversation. Silvana begged to be the one to tell Viviana about Giovanni, I agreed, but I’ll be there too.
Slowly, the shadows fade from her eyes, replaced by the fiery spark I know so well. She lifts her chin, gripping my face and pulling me close. Our lips crash together, all possession and demand. Her tongue tangles with mine, the coppery taste of blood from my busted lip mixing between us. She doesn’t pull back, holding me there, her grip unrelenting, demanding more of me.
And I give it to her. Hell, I’d give her my soul if she asked.
As we head toward the mansion, I glance back at the Koslov place engulfed in flames. Part of me regrets losing it; it was well hidden, deep in the woods. It could’ve been useful. But it’s gone now, reduced to ash, like everything tied to Alek.
Viviana clings to me, her weight pressing into my already bruised ribs. It hurts like hell, but I don’t move, don’t push her away. She’s keeping me anchored, holding back the darkness threatening to consume me.
Elva, her life traded for power. She died because of me, to get to me. And Viviana was next. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, and she notices.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, pulling away slightly. “I’m hurting you.” Her hands move to my shirt, fingers brushing over the fabric before gently lifting it. Her gaze falls on my ribs, mottled with deep shades of purple and black. Her fingers trail along the bruises, light as a whisper, and I feel my body soften under her touch.
“You need to go to a hospital,” she says, her voice quiet but firm.
“I’ve got everything I need,” I reply with a wink, keeping my tone low. The truth? My whole body feels like it’s been run over by a freight train. But right now, my mind is fixed on one thing: lying next to her, holding her close, burying myself inside her and hearing her moan my name.
Fuck. That thought alone is keeping me awake. I shake my head, half-regretting I didn’t just shoot Alek in the knee instead of fighting him like a wild animal. But what can I say? I love fighting for what’s mine. And Viviana, along with the Irish Consortium, are fucking mine.
When we arrive at the mansion, my first instinct is to check on our guests. But Viviana grabs my hand, pulling me with surprising force. I follow her, smirking as I imagine what she might have planned for us. The smirk dies when I realize where she’s taking me. The clinic.
She bursts in, shouting for the doctor, who comes running. The room is already filled with injured men, being patched up. “I’m fine,” I mutter, but Viviana cuts me off, speaking over me without giving me a chance to argue. I stay quiet, watching her.
She’s all confidence, control, and fire as she explains the bruises and the fight to the doctor like he needs every detail. The man doesn’t interrupt; smart choice. If he did, I’m sure she’d show him that deadly right hook of hers.
“I said I’m fine,” I say. I trying again, but this time, she raises a finger and presses it against my lips.
“Shush,” she orders, and my eyebrows shoot up. Did she just shush me?
The doctor asks me to sit, but I stay standing, folding my arms. That’s when Viviana plants her hands on her hips and glares at me.
“Sit. Now,” she demands, her tone sharper than a knife. She speaks to me like I’m a misbehaving child, and I have to bite back a laugh.
I don’t know if I want to bend her over the doctor’s table and spank her or just do as she orders. But hell, I find myself sitting anyway, my eyes locked on hers. She doesn’t care. Her expression is resolute, her stance unyielding.
The doctor patches me up as much as I let him; I have shit to take care of. When I walk into the living room, I see Viviana sitting next to Kian.
Her hands fidget in her lap, and she looks uneasy. She’s showered, now in a baggy black shirt and cargo pants, her hair in a ponytail. When her eyes meet mine, she offers me a nervous smile.
Silvana enters with Connor. As soon as their eyes lock, I notice the shadows flickering in Viviana’s gaze. Silvana hesitates, keeping her distance like she knows how easily this can turn to shit.
“I—” Silvana’s voice cracks, tears spilling before she can even finish a sentence. “I didn’t know,” she manages to say.
Viviana doesn’t reply. Her piercing stare stays fixed on her sister while her hands disappear, fidgeting beneath her thighs. I lean against the doorway, silently observing. Kian sits beside Viviana while Connor takes a seat near Silvana. Everyone’s watching Viviana, waiting.
“Our father,” Silvana starts again, correcting herself, “Giovanni… he said you wouldn’t get hurt. At the restaurant, he told me the men there were going to take you to safety.” Her words rush out as if she’s desperate for forgiveness. “And the story of you being the informant? I didn’t find out about it until last night at dinner, I swear.”
Viviana’s cold, steady gaze doesn’t waver. Silvana visibly shivers under the weight of it. After a long pause, Viviana nods once, her face unreadable. “And Elva?” she asks, her voice sharp but calm.
Silvana relays what she told me earlier. Viviana nods again, her mask of icy composure still firmly in place. Damn, she’s a powerhouse.
“And there’s something else,” Silvana says, her voice faltering. I shift slightly, already dreading what’s coming next. My gut tightens. Here it comes.
“Giovanni… he…” Silvana struggles, her voice cracking as her gaze darts toward me. Viviana turns, her fiery eyes locking onto mine, searching. I just nod. She faces her sister again, her posture straight and uncompromising.
“He what?” Viviana asks, standing slowly. I move around the back of the couch, positioning myself behind her but keeping my distance. Connor steps aside, almost as if silently giving her permission to do whatever she needs to.
Silvana flinches, trembling. “He isn’t your… father, Viviana,” she finally blurts, shutting her eyes as if bracing for some kind of outburst.
But Viviana doesn’t move. She freezes, her face unreadable.
“Vi,” I whisper, unsure if I should reach out or give her space.
Then, to everyone’s surprise, she sits back down and bursts into laughter, deep, almost hysterical laughter that echoes in the room.
“Oh, thank fuck,” she says between breaths of laughter, her hands rising to her bruised throat. The dark marks from Alek’s grip are even more pronounced now. “So that piece of shit isn’t related to me?” She exhales sharply, a small smile breaking through.
Fuck me. She’s actually happy.
Silvana nods, staring at her sister like she’s lost her mind.
Viviana turns to me, her smile growing. “He’s not my father. I’m not the daughter of the man who killed your fiancée. My father doesn’t hate me. My father didn’t trade me. He isn’t my father; he is just an evil, disgusting man.” Her voice cracks as tears fall, but the smile stays on her face.
“I know, baby. I know,” I say, kneeling in front of her. I cup her face gently, pressing small kisses to her hands. “But even if you were, I wouldn’t care. You’re nothing like him.” My voice drops to a whisper, and her smile brightens, warm and genuine, melting away the cold shadows of the past.
“And so you know, your real father has been protecting you since you were a child and even helped you run from me,” I wink at her.
Her face lights up, and tears fall. “Carlos,” she whispers.