Chapter 24
Declan
“Y ou really need to soundproof that bedroom, mate,” Flynn deadpans, lounging in the armchair in the corner of the living room.
“Maybe you can learn something,” I say, unable to hide the amusement in my voice.
“Fuck off, gobshite,” he chuckles, pouring me a glass of whiskey. “Are you two good?”
I settle into the armchair opposite him, exhaling deeply. “We’re fine. Don’t know how we’ll be after I kill her father, but that’s a problem for another day.” I take a sip, letting the burn of the alcohol soothe me.
Flynn nods, his gaze shifting to the window. The city hums with life even at this late hour, lights flickering against the dark skyline.
It’s been a while since I stayed here; I prefer the mansion. It’s quieter, more private, and far easier to secure. Sure, I own this entire building, but with hundreds of people living here and two floors below mine filled with offices, keeping control is a headache.
Even now, I can’t shake the faint unease creeping up my spine. Something feels… off.
Nothing I can pinpoint, just a sense that the air is heavier than it should be. Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Or maybe it’s the damn elevator ding I heard earlier, though no one should be using it this late without my clearance.
The private elevator and round-the-clock security team are supposed to ensure no surprises. Still, I know better than to trust that completely. After all, humans are the weakest link.
“How are we going to find Aleksandr?” Flynn finally asks, breaking the silence.
“I have a plan,” I say with a smirk, leaning back in the chair. “Just waiting for Connor and Kian to get back.”
Flynn smiles, nodding again. It’s going to be a long week.
“You can take the second room in the back,” I add, standing up. “No need to drive all the way to your estate at this hour.”
“Then keep the moans down, you fucker!” Flynn’s sarcastic tone follows me as I head toward the bedroom, his laughter chasing after my own.
I pause in the hallway for a moment, glancing toward the main door. I swear I heard something, a faint, distant sound like footsteps too light to belong to any of my men. But no one was there when I checked the security feed on my phone.
I really need to sleep; I’m getting paranoid.
Stepping into the small bedroom, my body immediately relaxes, her scent enveloping me like a warm embrace.
Viviana lies sprawled across the bed, naked, her raven-black hair spilling across the pillow in soft waves. The faint light from the window highlights the curve of her back and the pale perfection of her skin, glowing in the dim room.
Tomorrow, I’ll tell her the plan. Tonight? Tonight, I just want to lay next to my wife, bury myself inside her over and over, and make sure Flynn hears every one of her beautiful little moans.
I hear the elevator moving, a mechanical hum that freezes me mid-breath. My gaze flicks to my phone. No messages from my brothers. The realization slams into me like a fist. Fuck!
I leap out of bed, the sudden motion making Viviana sit up, clutching the sheet to her chest. Her raven hair spills around her shoulders, her wide eyes searching my face.
“What is it?” she whispers, her voice shaky but alert.
“Shhh.” My voice is a sharp whisper as I yank open two drawers, pulling out a knife and a gun. I turn to her, my tone quick and clipped. “Can you use this?”
Her eyes blink shut for a moment, her lips parting, but then her jaw sets. She nods, determination replacing hesitation. Tossing the sheets aside, she grabs my shirt, slipping it over her body as I tug on a pair of sweatpants.
I signal for her to stay put, one finger pressed to my lips. Slowly, I crack open the door, my eyes darting to the dark hallway. The familiar shadows of the penthouse feel wrong, stretched and jagged.
I whistle softly. A sharp, answering whistle echoes back. Good. Flynn’s also up.
The air feels heavy as I step out. Every sound seems amplified—the faint hum of the city below, the soft creak of the hardwood beneath my feet. The penthouse is too quiet, the usual low murmur of the air conditioning drowned out by an eerie stillness.
I slip behind the kitchen counter, pressing my back against the cold marble. Across the room, Flynn crouches by the marble bar, his shadow blending into the light. Our eyes meet, and he nods toward the elevator.
Ding.
My pulse quickens, but my grip on the gun remains steady. The elevator doors slide open, and chaos erupts.
Bullets rip through the air, shattering glass and ricocheting off the marble. The acrid smell of gunpowder fills the room.
I glance up at the security cameras. They’re moving, controlled remotely. Fuckers hacked us.
“Cameras!” I hiss to Flynn, jerking my head toward the ceiling.
Flynn drops flat, firing back at the attackers with ruthless precision. Muzzle flashes light up the room like a strobe, illuminating the chaos. Using his cover fire, I aim to the cameras, my shots ringing out over the deafening noise. Taking the cameras off gives us a new advantage.
A sharp clink echoes on the floor.
“Smoke!” Flynn yells, his voice cutting through the chaos.
A grey plume floods the room, thick and choking. My eyes water as I pull my shirt over my nose, shifting to a new position. Through the haze, I spot a shadow moving.
I fire.
One shot. A figure collapses, his body hitting the floor with a sickening thud. I step closer and deliver a second shot to the head.
“One!” I yell over the noise.
“Zero!” Flynn’s voice calls back, tight with frustration. Damn it.
Two sets of footsteps pound down the hallway. My stomach twists. Viviana.
“Flynn, cover me!” I shout, my voice raw.
“Go, go!” Flynn roars, standing amidst the smoke, his silhouette a blur as he unleashes another barrage of bullets.
I sprint down the hall, the acrid smoke stinging my throat. The usual warmth of the penthouse feels ice-cold, the walls closing in as I near her door. It’s slightly ajar, the faint scent of her perfume mingling with the metallic tang of blood. My chest tightens. Fuck!
I push the door open cautiously, my gun raised. The air is thick with tension, and then—
A blur of movement. A knife flashes.
“It’s me!” I bark, jerking back as the blade grazes my arm.
Viviana gasps, dropping the knife as she realizes. “Oh my God,” she whispers, her hands trembling as they reach for the cut on my forearm.
“It’s fine,” I murmur, my eyes scanning the room. One body lies sprawled near the doorway, a pool of blood spreading beneath him.
She got him. My girl took him down.
But the second one?
“Are you okay?” I pull her closer, my eyes searching her body, but she nods; her hands are steady, and there is a hint of a smirk on her lips.
Like I already knew, she’s fucking menace!
“Stay here,” I order, gripping her shoulders briefly. “I’ll whistle before I come back.”
Her lips twitch with a faint trace of judgment. “Try not to stab Flynn too,” I mutter. She rolls her eyes.
“I’ll do my best, husband,” she murmurs, picking up the knife again.
She’s going to fucking stab him.
The hallway is dim, the smoke lingering like a ghost. Flynn’s shadow moves toward the entrance, his gun sweeping the room. I nod to him, and he gives a curt signal—three men left, two in the living room, one somewhere around here.
I step into the main bedroom, scanning every corner, but before I can react, I feel the cold press of a gun barrel against the back of my head, freezing me in place.“Move, Irish fucker,” he snarls, his Russian accent thick and venomous.
I obey, stepping deeper into the room.
“Drop the gun. Hands behind your head,” he barks.
I toss my gun to the floor, taking note of where it lands. Slowly, I lace my fingers behind my head, every muscle in my body coiled and ready.
“Kneel,” he snarls, slamming the butt of his gun against my skull. Pain explodes in my head, blood dripping down my temple, warm and sticky.
“The fuck I will,” I bite out, voice low and defiant.
The Russian curses under his breath, frustration obvious. “Fine. I’ll just shoot you like th—”
A wet, guttural gurgle escapes his throat.
The pressure on my head vanishes.
I twist, dropping to the floor and grabbing my gun. I turn and fire three rapid shots into his chest. He crumples, blood spraying across the floor.
Almost behind him to the left stands Viviana, her knife dripping red, chest heaving, eyes blazing with fire and defiance.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I mutter, standing slowly.
Her gaze flicks to the lifeless body, then up to me. A smirk curves her lips.
“The gun I gave you?” I ask, my voice dry.
She shrugs. She fucking shrugs. “I prefer the knife. It’s more… intimate.”
I shake my head, fighting the urge to laugh. This woman will be the death of me.
Flynn glances over his shoulder, gun still raised. The living room is quiet now, the smoke clearing.
“Only one left,” he grumbles.
I’ve had enough of this shit. Stepping into the living room, I call out, “Hey, fucker!”
The idiot peeks out from behind the couch. I don’t hesitate—one clean shot to the forehead.
“Impressive,” Viviana says, amusement dripping from her tone as she steps up beside Flynn.
I glance at her, covered in blood but unshaken. My chest tightens—not with fear, but with pride. My fucking firecracker saved my life.
“Shit, mate, I don’t want to get on her bad side,” Flynn mutters, grinning, eyes still on Viviana.
She’s a sight to see—hair piled in a messy bun, wearing nothing but my white shirt, the hem barely brushing her thighs. Most of it’s smeared with blood, the knife in her hand still dripping.
There’s a spark in her eyes and wild energy as she wipes the blade clean on Flynn’s sleeve.
He raises an eyebrow, his tone dry. “Can I get you a cloth or something?”
Viviana laughs, a soft, throaty sound that somehow cuts through the tension in the room.
The elevator dings again.We all snap to attention, guns raised, but it’s just three of the security team. They freeze in their tracks, eyes darting to the bodies scattered across the living room.
“Fuck,” one of them mutters, wide-eyed.
“There are two more inside,” I say, jerking toward the hallway.
They nod, but Mike, the head of the team, steps closer. His gaze shifts to Viviana, his face pale. “Is she okay?”
“It’s not her blood,” I reply flatly.
“What the hell happened? How’d they get in?” My voice is sharp as I turn to him, frustration boiling.
Mike rubs his beard, guilt written all over his face. “We were hacked. The video feed was on a loop, so everything looked normal. We couldn’t hear the elevator from the security room. We heard something, but someone blocked it. We had to take the fire stairs and unblock it on the 10th floor.”
I nod, biting back the anger threatening to spill over. This is why I prefer the mansion. This kind of shit wouldn’t happen there.
“Get this cleaned up,” I say, gesturing to the mess.
Mike nods, signalling the others to get to work. My floor’s soundproof, at least, so I don’t have to worry about anyone hearing the shots. One less thing to deal with tonight.
“Fuck, what the hell happened?” Connor says, walking in, chuckling. “We can’t leave you alone for a day.”
“Everyone okay?” Kian asks, his tone serious, scanning the room. His eyes land on me and Flynn in the kitchen.
“Yeah, Viviana’s in the shower,” I reply, glancing toward the hallway. The security team is still busy removing the corpses.
“She took two down and saved Dec’s life,” Flynn says, raising his glass with a smirk. Connor and Kian exchange a look, grinning. I shake my head—there’s no way they’ll let this go anytime soon.
“Giovanni’s still at the Morelli mansion with his daughters. No movement,” Connor says, his tone shifting back to business.
“What now?” a voice cuts in behind us.
Viviana stands there, damp hair clinging to her shoulders, dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie from my closet. I did bring some of her things here, but nothing comfortable. The clothes hang loosely on her, making her look like a kid wearing her father’s clothes. Still, she manages to look sexy as hell.
“Now it’s your time to shine, firecracker,” I say, smirking as I pat the stool next to me.
She walks over slowly, her brows furrowed in suspicion.
“What we’re about to discuss stays in this room,” I say firmly, looking between her, Flynn, Connor, and Kian. “Not a word to our men or yours.”
Her gaze sharpens, curiosity piqued.
“You’re going to call your father,” I explained. “Tell him how pissed you are at us, at me. Tell him you hate the mistrust I have in you and how you’re working with the Russians.”
Her brows knit together as she processes.
“But I’m here,” she says, worrying creeping into her voice. “They won’t believe you’d take me back if it were true.”
“They will,” I say confidently. “You’ll tell them the evidence isn’t enough, and that I can’t kill my own wife without losing credibility inside the Irish Consortium. So now, I’m making your life a living hell, and you want revenge.”
“You’ll feed your father information about shipments, where we store our… stock,” Connor says, his tone steady. “He’ll pass it along to the Koslovs.”
“But they’ll attack it!” Viviana’s voice wavers, her eyes darting between us like we’ve all lost our minds.
“That’s the idea,” Kian replies, laying a map on the table. “We control the narrative. We’ll make sure nothing important is hit, but it’ll look real enough for them to trust you. If everything goes to plan, Aleksandr might crawl out of his hiding hole long enough for us to grab him.”
Viviana nods, but I can see the worry in her eyes.
“Everything will be fine,” I reassure her, my hand gliding up and down her back. “The warehouses will be empty, and so will the shipments. No one will get hurt. We’ll leave just enough stock behind to make it believable, but that’s it.”
Her body relaxes slightly under my touch, but Kian continues.
“Your father will believe you’ve truly turned against us,” he says, his voice calm but firm.
Viviana stiffens again, her posture straightening.
“But make sure to keep your sharp tongue and temper toward him,” I add, locking eyes with her. “He’s not stupid. He’ll believe you hate us; that part’s easy. You kind of hate everyone.” Maybe I shouldn’t have let that slip since her eyes turned to knives. I clear my throat, pretending not to notice. “But if you’re too nice to him, he’ll know something’s off.”
Her lips curl into a slight smirk. “That part will be easy.” But then her expression darkens, the fire in her gaze dimming. “And once you get Aleksandr? What happens to my father?”
Fuck.
The guys turn to me, silently waiting to see how I’ll handle this. I take a deep breath, knowing I can’t lie to her.
“I’ll kill him, Viviana,” I say quietly but firmly. “Not just for Elva, but for what he tried to do to you.”
I reach out, brushing a lock of hair from her face. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, and it feels like a knife twisting in my chest.
“I understand,” she whispers, her voice steady despite the pain in her eyes. She hides it well, turning away and heading to the fridge. She doesn’t face us again, and I let her have her space.
“So, tomorrow it all begins,” I say, raising my glass.