13. Declan
13
DECLAN
M y phone is at two percent, beeping at me as I end the call. I slide it into my pocket and turn back to the room, but from the crack in the doorway I see Isla is sleeping again. Maeve sits in the chair just outside the room where I asked her to. Ronan's partner is a fantastic doctor, but I feel like Isla is going to need more than just bandages this time. The expression in her eyes—the shock and panic—it's still there. This is fucking with her head.
"Thank you, Maeve," I tell her, knowing my older brother is downstairs.
She nods and offers an expression of sympathy. "I'll go in and sit with her, be here if she wakes up." Ronan sent her to my home the instant they heard there was an accident. She was here only moments after we arrived and I laid Isla in bed. Now he waits downstairs for me, and based on that short call with him, I know he's not happy.
"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 more concerned 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, but even 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.