25. Declan
25
DECLAN
I sit on the edge of the bed where only a few nights ago Isla and I lay together. Her scent is faded from the pillow, but I held it against my chest all night anyway. This morning, Maeve redresses my wounds, changing out soiled gauze pads for clean ones. I wince when she applies pressure, but the pain now, three days later, isn't nearly what it was the night Sebastian's men shot me.
"It's looking better," she says, smearing antibiotic ointment onto the sutures she put in my flesh. The Celtic knot tattooed there is now disrupted, a scar to remind me of my almost failure, no doubt. It's poetic, almost, the symbol of our family torn through the middle by a gunshot delivered to me as I fight for my redemption. Like the final nail in the coffin of my mistake. It's behind me, and the only thing in front of me now is a war.
"I'm feeling stronger. I need to get back to the search," I tell her as I reach for my clean button-down shirt. I was able to shower this morning for the first time. Losing that much blood weakened me substantially, but I can't lie around anymore and do nothing. Ronan and my brothers have all been hard at work, using our underground team to track Sebastian's movements.
Every family in this city is now aware of what he's done. They won't take it easy on him by any means. If they hear anything, they'll rat him out immediately, but I know as well as anyone else that when this is all said and done, things will eventually fade back to normal, unlike some other feuds that have lingered for decades.
"I think you need another day," she says, pressing the surgical tape to my chest to hold the new gauze in place. "You could bust stitches if you use your arm too much." Her head shakes, tousling her hair. "You're not ready."
I scoff and scrub my hand across my beard. "I appreciate your concern, Doc, but my wife is out there and I am going to find her."
The door swings open and Ronan's hard-soled shoes clomp on the wood floor. Maeve looks up at him and scowls in concern. She understands the way things work around here and doesn't like it. We're all stubborn as mules, especially when things like this happen, though they seem to be happening more often now.
"He needs more time," she says softly as she rises from her crouched position near the side of the bed.
"We are out of time." Ronan's statement is final, and Maeve knows it. She nods once and collects her things before letting herself out. The scent of her perfume lingers, wrapping around my senses and stirring an ache for Isla I didn't realize I could even feel. My head hangs, but I slide my arms into the shirt, wincing as my muscles engage. The pain is searing, and maybe Maeve is right. I Could tear the stitches, but I can't just sit here.
"We have news…" Ronan ambles around to this side of the bed and stares up at the painting on the wall, a family portrait done for the O'Rourkes decades before I was even born. This family has a legacy of survival, and I know no matter what, we will survive this. I just want to make sure every O'Rourke survives it.
"Go on, then," I tell him as I stand and button the shirt. My chest screams for me to stop moving. Each twist of my wrist flexes the muscles that need time to rest and repair.
Ronan turns to face me with his jade-like eyes, so dark and serious now. A week ago, his only priority was confirming the wedding would happen. He would've gone as far as to let Sebastian have Isla if the alliance would go forward. But there's anger and irritation in his expression now, tight features, drawn lips.
"Mick's backing out if we don't find her. Says it's our responsibility to bring her back or the alliance won't move forward." His voice is so cold, uncaring. Losing the alliance with the O'Connor family is huge, but finding Isla should be the priority anyway, even if Mick backs out.
"It's not like we knew she was going to run." Our worry was Sebastian taking her. Ro never planned for her to be a runaway bride. "He'll come around. We just have to find her." Tucking the shirt in, I walk toward the closet where they stuffed my shoes. Everything is uncomfortable here, but I have no home to return to. It lies in ashes just like Isla's. Now we have more in common than ever.
"There's more," he says, and it chills me.
"More than losing your precious alliance?" I snip, and I know it's a bad move, but for once in his fucking life, I want my brother to feel something.
"She's the O'Connor princess, Declan. You know what that means. Every family in this city fought for the chance to align themselves to the O'Connors. Mick's legacy is legendary. When he passes, he has no son to award his entire organization. This alliance positions us to?—"
"Stop it!" I shout, reeling around on him. "Just fecking stop it." My blood is boiling. "I understand it all and I don't care. The only thing that matters to me is bringing Isla home safely. That's what we focus on. The alliance means nothing to me without her. Do you understand? So if you don't find her—whatever. You lose your alliance. But I lose my heart."
My chest is heaving, hands clenched in fists. My throat constricts, and I study my chief for a few moments as he absorbs my verbal attack. I'll leave this family faster than they can draw their weapons to stop me. I have no reason to stay when I know they already doubt me. Isla is the last straw.
"She's in a shipping container at the docks, Declan." Ronan sucks in a breath and sighs hard, then he lowers himself to the foot of the bed and lets his head hang. "Da always said women are our weakness, that they soften us. But I think that's not true. I think the more you love a woman, the harder you fight to protect her and provide for her. And when there are children…"
I stoop to pick up my shoes, thankful he isn't lashing out at me after my outburst. Perhaps my brother really does have a heart in there somewhere. Maybe he's coming around to see that life is more than drug deals and selling weapons.
I plop onto the bed next to him to put my shoes on and ask, "How did we learn that?"
"The shipping container?" he asks, raising one eyebrow. "Aiden has a buddy at the docks that knows the O’Reillys’ shipping schedule. Normally, it's arms and drugs. This time, it's a container full of women headed to the brothels in Eastern Europe."
I'm horrified to think that Isla is in that box with other women who've been stolen from their families too. Men like Sebastian need to be hung by their balls and stripped of their dignity.
"So he plans to hide her in a sex ring?" I scoff again and tie up the shoelaces as I shake my head. "He knows he can't kill her, so he ships her off to a life of torture where we can't find her." It's a game he's playing, one I know we'll lose if that ship sails with Isla on board. We'll never find her again.
"And there's more still," Ronan says, sucking in another deep, cleansing breath. His posture is slumped, elbows on his knees now. He scrubs both hands over his face and shocks me as he lets out an explosive scream-growl. Then he stands abruptly and takes a few long strides with his hand reared back, like he may punch the wall, but he stops himself.
I don't know what to think except that whatever game Sebastian is playing has upped the stakes substantially. I stand slowly and tug my sleeve cuffs down, waiting for him to go on. When his gaze meets mine, I see the fury there.
"What is it?"
"She's carrying the heir, Declan." He looks away, glaring at the window. "The word is, Isla is pregnant. Mick's heir, the entire reason for this alliance, to bind our families for eternity, is within reach and without her, without that baby…"
His words trail off, fading out like a whisp of smoke dissolving into thin air. Isla is pregnant? But that means it's my child. That she's pregnant with my baby and a potential heir to the O'Rourke throne. And what Mick must be going through knowing his oldest daughter is gone, taken like a commoner. And the whole time, Sebastian knew who Isla really is, and all he cares about is punishing her for making him look weak.
Ronan is right. This thing just got a hell of a lot more complex, and I can't even blame him for thinking about the alliance. Deep down, I know he cares about bringing her back, so whatever his motive for finding and rescuing her is, I'm going to side with him. My motive is personal—to ensure the woman I love is by my side for eternity. But if it benefits our family, so be it. At least my brothers are on board to fight.
"You know if it's true? If she's really pregnant?" Aiden's sources are rarely wrong. I don't know why I even doubt them. Or maybe I just need to hear it again to believe it.
"It's true." He nods curtly. "Now we have to assemble a team and get to the docks to stop that ship from leaving port, and we have to be careful. If they see us coming, there's no telling what they'll do or how many innocent people will die in the process."
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I reach into the dresser and take out my gun. My wife and unborn child need me, and no one is going to stand in my way now. I will find her and I will bring her home, and I will prove to her once for all that right by my side is where she belongs.
And then I will kill Sebastian O’Reilly, if it's the last thing I do.