Chapter 9
Declan
I can’t see anything through the haze of my rage and fury. My mind is clouded. No one has the right to come in here, especially Viviana and that fucking family. Is she looking for information about her father? Is she the mole? She can’t be. She doesn’t know anything, does she? Shit! I slam my hand against the desk, the pain shooting through my palm only fuelling my anger.
“Dec, she’s making a run for the lake!” Connor bursts into the room, breathless, his words slicing through the air like a warning shot.
“She’s what?!” The snarl rips from my throat, raw and violent. I feel my entire body morph into an animal; I’m already moving, muscles coiling like a predator on the hunt.
“The fuck she is!!” The declaration tears out of me, sharp and final, my voice laced with an unyielding promise.
My strides are relentless, each step pounding the earth like thunder. The thought of her running, of her thinking she can slip away, ignites something feral in my chest. Fury surges, hot and consuming, mixed with the cold, gnawing edge of desperation. She won’t get away. She doesn’t get to leave.
I’ll drag her back if I have to. Chain her. Lock her away if it means keeping her where she belongs.
The lake comes into view, and so does she. The sight of her fuels the storm brewing inside me, a fresh surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. Her hair whips in the wind and the distance between us shrinks with every determined step I take.
“Viviana!” I roar, my voice cutting through the stillness like a whip. “Don’t even fucking think about it!” She turns to me. Is that fucking blood on her face? Is she bleeding?
But before I can reach her, she dives into the water. No… My breath catches, my pulse hammering in my ears.
Panic grips my chest, squeezing tight, suffocating. The hunter in me vanishes, replaced by something far more primal: fear. Real, gut-wrenching fear.
I hear Connor and Kian crashing toward me, but their voices are muffled, drowned out by the chaos roaring in my mind.
I hit the water’s edge and dive in without a second thought, the cold a brutal slap that barely registers. My body surges forward, arms cutting through the dark water, but it’s fucking impossible to see. The murk swallows everything.
“Where is she?”
“Viviana!” I scream, my voice breaking, raw and desperate, the sound tearing from my throat like it could drag her back to me. Tell me she didn’t drown.
Connor dives in beside me, Kian right after him. The water churns with our frantic movements, but it feels like we’re fighting against time itself.
“I can’t see her!” Connor’s voice shudders, sharp and strained, his head breaking the surface only to dive again. Every second that passes is a dagger twisting deeper into my chest.
My heart races, a wild, frantic rhythm, each beat screaming the same thing: “I almost had her. I was so close.”
It’s been six long hours, and still nothing. My men have scoured the lake, searching for her body until exhaustion finally pulled them from the water.
“It’s my fault,” I snarl, shoving the whisky bottle into my mouth. The sharp burn rushes down my throat like fire, but it does nothing to dull the guilt gnawing at me.
“She decided to run; it’s on her, Declan.” Kian’s voice is steady, but the undertone of doubt is clear. He’s trying to sound reassuring, but he knows as well as I do that the blame doesn’t rest solely on her.
“Ifucking scared her, Kian!” I clutch my head, the pounding becoming deafening.
I should’ve locked her in her room! Why did she go into that room?
I punch the table, sending paper flying to the floor. What have I done…
“She might still be alive,” Connor’s voice cuts through, standing at the corner of the office, a towel around his neck, his eyes dark as the night.
“After all this time? She fucking drowned!” The words sting more than I thought they would.
The door swings open without a knock, and we all jump. Kian draws his gun instinctively, but the barrel of the gun to Mike’s face makes him freeze.
“Fuck, it’s me,” Mike raises his notebook. “You need to see this, boss.”
“Fucking hell, Mike, this is not the day to barge in like that!” Kian snaps, quickly holstering his gun.
Without another word, Mike slams his notebook on my desk and presses play on a video. The security footage from the road outside the mansion flickers to life on the screen.
“What are we looking at?” I squint, the footage showing only the dark woods next to our estate.
He points to a small motion behind some bushes; it’s dark, and I don’t even know how he caught it.
We all crowd around the screen, and there she is—crawling out of the woods, her clothes torn and soaked, blood trickling down her face. She stumbles toward a car parked at the edge of the road. My heart stops, a jagged punch to my chest.
“Who the hell is that?” I snarl, the words thick and heavy in my throat. My pulse quickens, adrenaline coursing through me, burning hotter than the whisky.
A man rushes from the car, scooping her up like he’s been waiting for her.
“That’s fucking Carlos,” Connor mutters, stepping closer with his phone in hand. He swipes to a photo, showing me, a younger Viviana standing next to the man from the footage.
“I thought he wasn’t working for the Morellis anymore,” I bark, standing abruptly, yanking my leather jacket off the back of the chair and shrugging it on.
“He’s not. He retired years ago.” Connor doesn’t even look up from his phone, his fingers flying over the keys. “But my guess is she found a way to contact him. I’ll pull his address and known associates.” He’s already moving down the hall, determined in every step.
I breathe deeply, the tightness in my chest loosening just a fraction. She’s alive. My fucking firecracker is alive. And now I’m going to kill her.
She’ll never see the light of day outside the mansion again, not after this.
Another guard walks in, but I barely register him.
“Sir, we found this.” He hands me a snorkel mask and tube.
A low chuckle escapes me despite the storm brewing inside. Clever little vixen. She planned this, and somehow, she slipped past everyone, even me.
“Kian, get the bikes.” My voice snaps through the room, sharp and commanding. I can’t sit here waiting for Connor to track down Carlos. There are people she trusts, people she’ll think can hide her. We’re going to visit them.
Minutes later, the roar of the engine slices through the tension in the air. My bike is ready—a sleek black monster of a machine with sharp angles and raw power. The polished surface gleams under the light, faint silver accents catching the glow like a blade. Built for speed. Built for the chase. And tonight, that’s exactly what I’ll use it for.
I swing my leg over the seat, the leather smooth under my gloves, and grip the handlebars. The vibration hums through me, a promise of the hunt ahead. Kian pulls up beside me on his bike, a twin to mine, just as dark, just as menacing.
No more waiting. She thinks she can run? Let’s see how far she gets.
We arrive at Viviana’s old apartment—the one she insisted on keeping. Maybe she thought she could come back here one day like nothing ever happened. I thought the same until now.
The lock gives way to the pick, and we push the door open. Everything looks untouched, just as I expected. She’s not dumb enough to come back here.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I answer without hesitation.
“She used a burner phone,” Connor says on the other end. “That’s why we didn’t get an alert when she called Carlos. But I’ve pinged his location; he’s at the Castor Club.” I hear the familiar sound of his fingers flying over the keyboard. “Sending you the GPS coordinates now.”
“Good job, brother,” I mutter, barely keeping the satisfaction out of my voice before hanging up. I turn to Kian, my mind already a whirlpool of thoughts. “Let’s get out of here.”
The drive to the club is a blur. I don’t know what I’ll do when I see her. I don’t know what she’ll do when she sees me. She’ll be like a cornered animal, and those are always the most dangerous. Always the most unpredictable.
I’ve already called ahead. I don’t know the owners of this place, but that’s the luxury of being the head of the Irish Consortium. The second I mentioned my name, they made sure Carlos wouldn’t be going anywhere.
We arrive, and the older man who greets me at the door is trembling, trying to hide his fear in his voice.
“Mister Callaghan, it’s a pleasure.” His words fall flat, and I don’t believe him for a second.
I give a curt nod, keeping my eyes on him. “Where is he?”
“This way.” He leads us down a hallway to the back office.
Carlos doesn’t flinch when we enter the room. He remains seated, his eyes steady, meeting mine without hesitation. Security holds a gun on him, but he doesn’t move and doesn’t show fear.
Blood stains his shirt and jeans, but his eyes are sharp, filled with the same stubbornness that runs through Viviana.
“Where is she?” I ask, my voice barely restrained. She’s not just my wife anymore. She’s a walking target. If I don’t get to her first, the Russians will drag her into their mess. And once they do, there’s no coming back from it.
Carlos smirks—a cocky, infuriating smirk. It’s too much like hers.
My fists tighten, and before I can think, I’m swinging, my punch landing squarely on his jaw. His chair tips over, crashing to the floor with a thud. Blood splatters onto my shoes, but I barely register the mess.
“You can kill me, Declan, but I’ll protect her with my life,” Carlos spits, pushing himself up slowly, wiping the blood off his chin with his sleeve. That damn grin doesn’t leave his face, not for a second.
He’s tough. I already knew that. I can see it in the set of his jaw—he’s telling the truth. He will protect her until his last breath.
“You know she’ll get herself killed,” I growl, frustration boiling over in waves.
“She’s smart,” he mutters, standing up and wiping his bloody hands on his jeans. “Neither you nor Giovanni will ever find her.”
The words hit me like a slap. But it doesn’t stop me.
I step forward, fury burning through me. “The Russians will come for her. And I’m the only one who can protect her.”
“The same way you protected your fiancée?” His words spit out like venom, and I launch myself at him. He lands a punch, but before he can swing again, I drive my fist into his ribs, hearing the sickening crack of bone beneath my knuckles.
“Tell me where she is!” I’m ready to rip him apart with my bare hands.
“They found her!” Kian’s voice slices through the chaos, his phone pressed to his ear. “The Russians. Connor intercepted an informant with the Flannagans.”
“Fuck!” I grab Carlos by his shirt, yanking him closer. Panic flares in his eyes—the kind that says he knows what’s coming. If the Russians reach her first, she’ll be dead within minutes. “Where is she?!”
He gasps for air, blood bubbling up as he coughs. “The Harper warehouse.”
“The burnt-out building on the north side of the docks?” Why the hell would she go there? It’s close to our territory. Dangerous.
“There’s a boat,” he croaks. “Passes by every night. Rich kids use it to get drugs. She’s supposed to steal it, get out of here.”
I release his shirt, wiping my bloody hand on a jacket draped over a chair. “We need to move. Now. Before the Russians get to her.”
“And him?” Kian points at Carlos. My fury still boils, but there’s something in his eyes—the worry, the way he protected her.
“Let him live,” I grunt. Our eyes lock. He nods, his pleading gaze aimed not at me but at Viviana.
Seconds later, we’re on the bikes, tearing through the streets. Tires screech as we push the engines to their limit. Connor’s already en route with some of our men, barking orders when we arrive at the warehouse. “If it’s not her,” he snaps, “shoot to kill.”
We arm ourselves and slip into the skeletal remains of the burnt-out building. Four floors of ash and rubble—perfect for hiding. We move silently, communicating with nothing but signals, the way we’ve done since we were kids. This is what we do: hunt, search, kill.
A noise. To the left, up the stairs. I lead, catching a glimpse of a face—just a second, but it’s one of Koslov’s men. I sprint, firing a shot between his eyes before he can react. Behind me, two more shots ring out, and Connor’s whistle pierces the air. He got one, too.
We reach the top floor. Another man stands there, his gun trained on something just out of sight. “Hey, fucker,” I growl.
He turns his head toward me, but his gun stays aimed. I step around the pillar—and there she is. Viviana. My fucking wife.
A bandage covers her forehead, her entire body clad in black like a panther ready to strike. Fierce. Unbroken. Her gun is trained on the Koslov’s man, her stance cold and lethal.
“Viviana,” I say, my voice low but sharp, cutting through the tension. It’s enough to pull her gaze from the enemy, bringing her focus to me.
“You shoot me, I shoot her,” the arsehole snarls, his voice trembling, struggling to hold control.
I grin, unfazed. “No, you won’t.” Without hesitation, I fire. The bullet shatters his hand before he can react, and Kian swiftly puts a bullet in his head.
“Sir!” one of the guards calls, a sharp warning in his tone.
I turn, seeing all my men with guns trained on Viviana. Her gun, however, is aimed directly at me.
“Guns down!” They hesitate for a split second. “Now!” They lower their guns. “Leave,” I rasp. Slowly, cautiously, the men step back. I see Kian and Connor lower their guns, though their fingers still hover near the triggers—coiled, ready.
I dismiss the guards, ordering them to clear the floor. Now, it’s just the four of us.
“Viviana, put the fucking gun down.” I take a step closer, my voice hard, trying to ground her, to break through whatever storm is brewing behind her eyes. Her hands tremble ever so slightly.
“That’s not going to happen, Declan.” She stares at me, her eyes filled with shadows, but there’s no fear—just raw, pure pain.
“Don’t be stupid, Viv,” I warn, stepping closer. “Even if you hit me, they’ll shoot you the second you pull the trigger.”
“You think I care?” Her voice cracks, trembling with the weight of her words. “I have no one. You… my father… I’m just a pawn. And your fiancée… The nightmare, Alek!”
“What the fuck do Elva or even Alek have to do with this?” I freeze. Her words hit like a punch to the gut. My fists clenched, every muscle coiled, ready.
“Nothing!” She shakes her head violently. I see Kian and Connor shift forward. She notices, turning her wild eyes on them. “Don’t!”
“Viv, look at me.” I raise my hands slowly, holstering my gun, trying to show her I’m not a threat. Not to her. “Eyes on me, firecracker. Come on.”
Her gaze is frantic, darting between us. “I can’t do this, Declan,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “It’s too much.” Her eyes flick toward the two men near the stairs. Fuck. She’s going to make them shoot her.
“Am I that bad?” I take a careful step forward, my hands still raised. My heart’s racing, but I can’t let her see that.
She shakes her head, her finger twitching on the trigger. “Yes… I mean, no, but it will be bad Declan; it’s going to be so bad,” a manic laugh escapes her lips as her gun swings toward my men, Kian signalling them to stay still.
“Viv,” I swallow hard, dread curling in my gut. “Please don’t do this.”
She doesn’t let me finish. Her voice shatters like glass. “I’m tired.” Her hands shake violently now, the gun lowering slightly. A sob escapes her lips, and her finger twitches dangerously close to the trigger.
“I know you are, and it’s my fault.” Another step closer. I need to end this before she completely breaks.
“Yes, why did you have to choose me?” She spits, her voice venomous. “I don’t belong in this life.”
The fire I’ve seen in her eyes since the gathering is gone. In its place, only darkness. What the fuck happened? Is all of this because of what I said in the room over Elva?
“I was free! The only reason I went to that stupid gathering was to see one of my sisters,” she whispers, her gun still trembling between us. “And now I’m here, with you.”
I take a deep breath, my mind racing for a solution. She’s spiralling, and I can see the moment she decides she doesn’t care anymore. I whistle once, a signal. Connor moves fast, stepping forward and drawing her attention just for a second. That's all I need.
Kian fires a shot into the air, and Viviana spins toward him. I lunge, grabbing the gun from her hand and tackling her to the floor. Her body thrashes beneath me, the gun firing with a deafening crack, the bullet disappearing into the ceiling. I twist her wrist until the gun falls from her hand, clattering to the ground.
“Viv,” I whisper, her sobs shaking her body beneath me. Her chest heaves with every broken breath.
Kian grabs the gun, and the men rush in. Connor’s already barking orders, securing the area and making sure there are no more of Koslov’s men hiding in the shadows.
I pull Viviana up with me, but her legs give out. I scoop her into my arms, her face pressing against my chest. Her cries are muffled, but they cut deep, echoing in the cold night air.
“You’ll kill me, Declan,” she whispers, her words thick with tears.
Her words stop me cold. What the hell is she talking about?