Chapter Twenty-one
Flynn
“That was reckless,” Kaden says before I even have my morning coffee.
“Fuck it.” I shrug.
My phone rings, and Declan’s name flashes on the screen. I already know what he’s going to say.
I answer.
“What the fuck, Flynn?” He sounds calm, but I know him. He’s one minute away from strangling me through the phone.
“What?” I try to sound nonchalant.
“What?” His voice drops. Low. Dangerous. “Flanaghan called a meeting.”
“Right.” I hang up and crack my neck side to side.
“Meeting?” Kaden asks.
I nod.
“Let me guess, Flanaghan requested it?”
“Yup.” No one would give a fuck about Autumn being with me. I knew the Keeffes wouldn’t say shit, but Flanaghan? He’s acting like a little bitch. Of course he’d try something.
“Give me ten minutes,” I tell Kaden and head upstairs.
I push open her door and walk toward the bed. She’s out cold. After the fight and that kiss, she was pissed. Told me I’m not allowed to claim her. Told me I’m psycho.
Maybe I am.
But when I fucked her, she didn’t sound like she minded.
I lean in, knee pressing beside her. Her stomach’s down on the mattress, one leg bent to the side. I peel the sheet down, exposing her round, perfect ass.
I bend close to her ear, voice low.
“Time for your plug, trouble.”
I tug her panties down, and she murmurs something, waving me off like I’m a damn mosquito.
I grin.
I pull the lube from my pocket and drizzle it over the plug, fingers working it in. Then I move between her thighs, pressing her cheeks apart. That gets her attention.
She stirs. Tries to turn.
I plant my knee against her lower back.
Her hand twists around, nails brushing my wrist near her head.
Fuck, I love when she fights me.
“I’m leaving for a while,” I murmur, rubbing the plug across her tight hole. “And you need to keep up with your training.”
She whimpers, soft, high-pitched.
“Flynn, you deep shit.” She snaps, still squirming beneath me.
“Deep breath. Relax. Or it’ll hurt more,” I warn.
She stills.
I press the plug in. Her moan is quiet, muffled by the pillow.
“Good girl,” I whisper.
Her skin gives, taking it in slow. One firm push and it’s seated deep, bigger than yesterday’s. I should’ve taken longer with her, teased her open inch by inch. But fuck, I need to come in every hole she has. Mark her. Fill her.
I let her go and straighten up. She turns her head, glaring at me with fire in her eyes.
I smirk.
“Take that out before I get back, and I’ll shove the bigger one in. No lube.”
I turn and leave.
Her pillow hits me square in the back, but I don’t stop walking.
Heading down, I spot Kaden at the front door, keys in hand. He’s not letting me near a bike today.
He already knows this is about to go to shit.
We drive toward the Consortium mansion. It sits buried in the woods, middle of nowhere, used only for special meetings. No one lives there except the keepers.
We haven’t had a meeting here in years.
They’re going to fuck me.
We pull up. I see the Callaghans’ SUV. The Keeffes’ car. Flanaghan’s shitty black Mercedes, the one he treats better than his own kids.
“Ready?” Kaden asks, stepping beside me.
I nod once.
“I got your back, brother.”
He means it. If someone makes a move, he’d bleed for me. Die for me. That’s what loyalty looks like.
We move down the hallway. Guards from every family stand posted, eyes forward. Silent.
The place is clean, every inch old as hell and expensive. Our great-grandfathers built it, and no one’s dared touch a thing since.
The massive wooden doors creak open as we approach, and inside, the oval table dominates the centre of the room.
Declan sits at the head, with Connor and Kian on either side. Next to Kian are the Keeffes, Christian and his cousin, stiff as ever; across from them, beside Connor, are Flanaghan and Doyle.
What the fuck is he doing here?
I say nothing, just move to my seat directly across from Declan. Kaden takes the one beside me, eyes scanning everything.
A man pours whisky into my glass. I don’t look at him.
“So?” I ask, voice low as I lean back in the chair.
“You have someone living with you,” Flanaghan says, his voice coated in sarcasm, that ghost of a smile curling his lip like he thinks he has the upper hand.
My fists curl under the table, knuckles tight, but I keep my expression still.
“And?” I shrug, raising the glass and letting the whisky burn down slow.
“She’s not approved. A civilian, no ties to the Consortium.” His voice lifts, sharp and accusatory, like he expects someone else to jump in and echo him.
“She’s a captive,” I say, locking eyes with him, my tone cold, unmoving.
I watch the vein in his temple twitch, the tension in his jaw coiling tighter.
He’s pissed that I’m calm, that I won’t rise to his noise. Autumn unravels me, pulls reactions out of me that no one else can, but Flanaghan? He doesn’t get a flicker.
“A captive you took to a fight and kissed?” he snaps, snarling as he turns to Declan like a child running to a parent. “He kissed her in front of everyone. He can’t have her at the mansion. She has access, documents, photos, Consortium intel!”
He slams his fist into the table. The sound echoes.
Declan watches him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he shifts his gaze to me and exhales, slow and tired.
“You know the rules,” he says.
I catch the flick of movement beside him, Kian and Connor, shaking their heads, clearly not wanting to touch this with a ten-foot pole.
“I’m not killing her, Dec.” My eyes stay on his, steady, unflinching. “You know that.”
“The rules are straightforward.” Flanaghan rises; jabbing a finger at me like that makes him more convincing. “No one outside the Consortium or off payroll can be near sensitive information. She’s a fucking liability.”
I laugh under my breath, low. “If anyone’s a liability, it’s you, John.”
His face goes red, lips flattening into a line.
“Remind me again why you shot the only man alive at the warehouse,” I continue, leaning forward just slightly. “The one person we could’ve questioned. Why did you kill him before any of us had the chance to ask who sent him?”
He slams his chair back and starts toward me.
I don’t move, but Kaden does; he rises slowly, stepping between us with a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Go on,” he says, voice like gravel, and Flanaghan freezes mid-step.
Then, like a coward, he turns toward Declan.
“See this? A fucking security guard talking to me like that?” he barks, spit catching in the corner of his mouth. “Why is he even in the room? He’s not family.”
I push up from my chair, and Flanaghan flinches.
“Why’s he here then?” I ask, motioning toward Doyle.
“If Doyle can stay, so can Kaden,” Declan answers evenly, not even looking at John.
“Autumn is a friend of my wife,” he adds, keeping his voice calm. “She had a rough situation. Viv wanted to help, and Flynn took her in.”
Flanaghan lets out a laugh, but there’s no humour in it.
“He didn’t take her in; he’s fucking that slut and letting her nose around Consortium documents like it’s her fucking right—”
He doesn’t finish.
I move before he can say another word, grip locking in the collar of his jacket as I slam him into the wall.
Doyle doesn’t move. Not a twitch. Like he knew this was coming.
“Call her a slut again, mate,” I growl, lips curling into a smile that feels more like a threat.
I’m so close I can see the fear in his pupils, the sweat starting to bead above his brow.
“Go on. Say it.”
Behind me, I hear chairs scrape and footsteps shift.
They all feel it now, how close I am to snapping, even though I’m not. I just want to scare the fucker up.
“Flynn.” Kian places a hand on my shoulder.
“The rules—” Flanaghan grits out, his voice strained beneath my grip. “No one outside of the Consortium—”
I slam him back into the wall hard enough to rattle the frame, then release him and step back.
“It’s a stupid rule,” I mutter, already turning. I take my seat again, calm, unmoved.
Declan still hasn’t stood. He watches me carefully.
“I’m not going to kill her.”
My voice is level, final. “You’ll have to kill me to get to her.”
Silence hits the room like a shot.
Even Christian’s mouth drops open.
“Fuck,” Declan groans, rubbing a hand down his face.
“If that’s what you choose,” Flanaghan says, grinning like he’s already won.
I don’t look at him. I turn to Declan instead.
“Twenty-four hours,” I say.
Flanaghan moves fast, stepping toward Declan, voice rising.
“He’s going to make her disappear, or they’ll both vanish! You can’t let—”
Declan stands. His voice comes low, cold.
“You don’t fucking tell me what to do.”
He gets right in Flanaghan’s face, eyes narrowed, then turns to me.
“Twenty-four hours, Flynn.”
I nod, rise, and walk out as John explodes behind me, cursing, slamming his fists against the table like a tantrum in a suit.
“You’ve got a plan?” Kaden mutters, falling into step beside me.
I shake my head.
Neither of us says another word until we’re in the car, then I lean back against the seat, eyes closing, jaw clenched tight.
“These fucking rules are shit,” I say. “We can mingle, fuck, and breed anyone with a hand in our pocket; it doesn’t matter if it’s Russian or Italian, but the second it’s an innocent girl with no price tag, the whole fucking room loses their minds.”
Kaden’s already pulling onto the road, tyres spitting gravel.
“You know he’s doing this to get closer,” he says. “With you out of the picture, he’s one step nearer to being next in line if anything happens to Declan.”
He’s not wrong.
Flanaghan’s been twitchy ever since the Russians last year. He didn’t like the deal Declan made to get Viviana. Hated that it worked. Hated that they fell in love and that Declan got everything and more.
The Consortium isn’t run like normal families. It has never been.
Declan stepped forward when our fathers died fighting the Russian mafia.
I didn’t want the power, but I swore I’d stand beside him. Shoulder to shoulder.