Chapter Nineteen
Rylan
I’ve been in a lot of tense situations before. Deals gone sideways, raids that almost landed me in prison, and rival families trying to put bullets in me. But none of that compares to the pressure I feel right now, sitting across from Declan in his penthouse as I explain everything I’ve done to keep Savannah safe.
He leans back in his chair, swirling a glass of whiskey, his expression unreadable. His silence is worse than anything he could say.
“So let me get this straight,” he says finally, his voice calm, calculated. “You’ve been hiding her in the house. The Castillos are combing the city, and their trigger-happy capos are ready to start a war over Vinny. And your brilliant plan is to keep her in your bed and hope for the best?”
I clench my fists, forcing myself to stay calm. “It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it?” Declan’s sharp blue eyes pierce through me. “You think with your dick for one second, and now we’re all in the crosshairs. Great job, brother.”
“I’m handling it,” I snap, leaning forward. “Savannah’s not going anywhere. She’s safe where she is. You think I’d let anything happen to her?”
“Safe?” Declan barks out a laugh, setting his glass down hard enough to make the liquid slosh. “You can’t protect her from everything, Rylan. The Castillos don’t care about collateral damage. And if they find out where she is—who she’s with—they’ll burn the place to the ground. Do you really want her caught in that?”
His words hit harder than I want to admit. I glance at the tattoos covering my knuckles, a reminder of the promises I made to myself—to leave this life behind, to never be like the men I’ve spent my life surrounded by. And yet, here I am, dragging Savannah right into the thick of it.
“She’s innocent in all this,” I say, my voice quieter now. “She didn’t ask for any of it.”
Declan’s expression softens just a fraction, but it’s enough to tell me he’s listening. “No, she didn’t. But innocent people don’t last long in our world, Rylan. If you want to keep her alive, you’re going to have to make some hard choices.”
I run a hand through my hair, frustration clawing at me. “I’m already making them, Declan. I’ve done everything I can to keep her out of sight, to keep her safe. What else do you want me to do?”
“I want you to think like a Doyle,” he says, his tone cold. “Not a lovesick fool. Get ahead of this before the Castillos do. If they find her first, it’s game over.”
I’m about to argue when his phone buzzes on the table. He glances at the screen, his jaw tightening.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Sam checked in,” Declan says, his tone even as he reads the message. “He did good work. Body’s gone, car’s dismantled, and the house is clean. It would take a crystal ball to know what went down there.”
Breath rushes out of me unexpectedly from the relief that cascades over me. At least something is going right.
“But,” Declan continues, setting the phone down, “one of our guys spotted Castillo muscle near the docks. Looks like they’re gearing up for something.”
I stand, adrenaline spiking. “What do you need me to do?”
Declan looks at me for a long moment and shakes his head. “You? Nothing. You stay out of this. Keep your girl locked down, and don’t make any more mistakes. I’ll handle the Castillos.”
“Declan—”
“You want to protect her?” he snaps. “Then stay the hell out of my way.”
Before I can respond, he’s gone, leaving me alone in the quiet of the penthouse. I’ve never felt so powerless, so trapped. All I can think about is Savannah and the storm that’s closing in around us.
If Declan’s right—if the Castillos find her first—I don’t even want to think about what that would mean.
For her. For me. For all of us.
Savannah
I’ve never felt more out of place in my entire life. This house, with its endless rooms and polished floors, is a cage disguised as a sanctuary. And the man who’s supposed to be my protector? He’s as much a part of the bars as the walls around me.
Still, I know why I’m here. Rylan’s made it painfully clear. The Castillos are hunting for me, and leaving isn’t an option—not if I want to stay alive.
But that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.
I cross my arms as I sit in the kitchen, staring at the untouched cup of tea in front of me. Rylan’s been gone for hours, and the quietness weighs down on me. Every creak of the house makes my nerves jump, every shadow outside the window has me second-guessing my safety.
The fact that I have to rely on Rylan for protection—Rylan, with his tattoos and his smug grin and his secrets—only makes it worse.
When the front door finally opens, I bolt upright, my heart racing. He steps in, his expression dark and brooding, and I know immediately that whatever happened while he was gone didn’t help my situation.
“What is it?” I ask, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Just . . . more of the same. Declan’s handling things. For now.”
“And Sam?”
His eyes flick to me, surprised. “How do you know about Sam?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re not as quiet as you think you are. I overheard you talking about him cleaning up the mess.”
Rylan exhales sharply, muttering a curse under his breath. “Yeah. He took care of it. The house, the car . . . everything.”
I nod, some of the tension in my chest easing. At least that part is over. But the weight of everything else still looms large.
“So what now?” I ask, my voice quieter. “Do I just . . . stay here forever?”
“For now, you stay,” he says firmly. “It’s the only way to keep you safe.”
The words hang in the air, and though I want to fight him on it, I know he’s right. As much as I hate this, as much as I hate him for dragging me into this mess, I can’t leave. Not yet.
Savannah
I’m sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed, my arms folded across my chest as I glare at Rylan. He’s standing near the window, his silhouette sharp against the late afternoon light. He paces the room, his hands repeatedly raking through his hair, his expression tight with concentration, as if he’s searching his thoughts, trying to find the right words.
It’s not working.
“You’re stalling.” My voice cuts through the silence. “Stop stalling and just tell me. Who are you, Rylan? Why is Vinny's family after me?”
His shoulders tense, and for a moment, I think he’s going to brush me off like he always does. But he exhales, his breath heavy, and turns to face me.
“You already know the basics,” he starts, his voice quieter than I expected, carrying a softness that almost feels out of place given the tension in the air. “Vinny’s family found his phone. They saw your messages inviting him over, and now they think you’re tied to his death.”
“I get that,” my snapping tone cutting him off. “What I don’t get is why you’re involved or why you seem to know so much about them. Why are you really keeping me here, Rylan? What aren’t you telling me?”
He leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. The confident, cocky Rylan I’ve grown used to is gone. What’s left is someone who looks . . . almost uncertain.
“Because my family isn’t exactly innocent either,” he admits, his voice low but steady. “The Doyles . . . we’re made men, Irish mob, Savannah. My father built an empire on smuggling, arms deals, money laundering—you name it, we’ve probably done it.”
My stomach twists, but I force myself to hold his gaze. “Irish mob?”
He nods, his jaw tightening. “And Vinny . . . he was Italian mafia. His family—the Castillos—are one of the biggest crime syndicates in the country. They’ve been our rivals for decades.”
The words hit me like a freight train. Italian Mafia. Irish mob. I feel like I’ve been dropped into some kind of crime drama, except it’s real, and I’m smack in the middle of it.
“And you?” I ask, my voice shaking slightly. “Are you . . . in it too?”
“I’ve been trying to get out of it for years,” he says, his jaw tightening further. “That’s why I started driving. It’s not glamorous, but it’s honest. It’s something I can do without being tied to them. But it’s not that simple. No one walks away completely.”
I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Honest? You’ve been delivering for them, haven’t you?"
He flinches, and that’s all the confirmation I need.
“Savannah,” he says while he steps closer. “I didn’t want you to get dragged into this. I’ve spent my whole life trying to shield anyone I get close to from the mess that comes with my name. But then Vinny . . .” He trails off, his fists clenching at his sides.
“Vinny came for me,” I finish the sentence for him, my voice shaking. “Because he thought I . . . what? Invited him over for a hookup?”
A dark expression crosses his face, and he nods. “And when he didn’t walk out of that house, his family started asking questions. They’re not just looking for answers, Savannah. They’re looking for blood.”
The walls press in on me, and the room feels claustrophobic. I run a hand through my hair as my mind whirls, trying to process everything.
“So, what?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intend. “You’re just going to keep me here forever? Lock me up like some kind of . . . prisoner?”
“No,” he says quickly. “I’m trying to find a way to end this without anyone else getting hurt. But I need you to trust me.”
I bark out a laugh, shaking my head. “Trust you? You’ve been lying to me since the moment I met you.”
He steps closer, his voice softening. “I’ve been trying to protect you, Savannah. If I’d told you the truth earlier, would you have believed me? Would you have stayed?”
I don’t answer, because we both know the truth.
“You’re not my prisoner,” he says after a long pause. “You’re my priority. And whether you believe it or not, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
His words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. For the first time, I see the weight he’s been carrying—the guilt, the responsibility, the fear.
And for a moment, just a moment, I believe him.