Chapter Twenty-Six
Flynn
The bass makes the walls shake, the whole place pulsing in a rhythm that vibrates in my bones. Teine is packed as usual, the scent of sweat, perfume, bodies grinding, lights flashing, but all that noise fades the second my eyes land on her.
Autumn.
Dancing.
Laughing.
Her hair swings around her shoulders, catching the red and purple lights.
Her cheeks flushed, her smile real, her body moving the way she never lets it when she’s scared.
She looks alive, and Christ, I’ve missed this version of her.
This tiny slice of normalcy. This reminder that she isn’t made just of fear and shadows.
“Fuckers.” Declan mutters beside me, leaning on the railing.
I follow his gaze. Three men in cheap suits staring at our women like they have the right.
My jaw flexes. My hands curl into fists on instinct. I lick my bottom lip, adrenaline hitting me fast and hot. I lean toward Declan.
“Wanna have some fun?”
Declan’s grin is pure violence. “Fuck yeah, mate.”
Behind us, Kian and Connor swear but stay where they are; they know better than to get between us and something we’ve already decided we’re doing.
We walk down the stairs like predators stalking prey.
Autumn sees me coming, eyebrows pulling together even as her hips keep moving, her body rolling with the beat.
I wink, and she blushes instantly. Even after everything—marriage, fights, blood, confessions—she still reacts to me like she’s my newest obsession.
Like she doesn’t understand she’s already mine, claimed, something I’d kill for without thinking.
Declan reaches the table first. The men are drunk, loud, and stupid.
“Hot,” Declan says, just loud enough for them to hear. They don’t even look at us.
“I’m fucking the black-haired one,” one of the idiots laughs.
“We can take the brown-haired one,” the other two add, then they turn toward us. “Maybe we can all shar—”
He chokes on the word, eyes widening as he sees us. His face goes red. “Fuck.”
The others turn too. Their expressions freeze when they realise exactly who they were drooling over.
I step in, closing the space so tight they have to tilt back to look at me. “Who are you going to fuck?” My voice is low, almost conversational, which scares them more. I crack my neck slowly, jaw ticking. “Our wives?”
They turn white. One drops his drink, glass shattering at his feet. I don’t move. I don’t blink. I enjoy the way their fear spreads.
“We didn’t know,” one stammers, hands raised. He still hasn’t noticed Declan slips behind them. Or that I’ve shifted just enough to block their only exit.
“Tell me again,” I say, grabbing the closest one by the shirt. He lets out a scream, high-pitched, pathetic. I haven’t even squeezed. “Who are you sharing?”
Declan moves first. His fist slams into the gut of the one who claimed Viviana. The guy folds, gasping like a dying fish.
“Talk about my wife again,” Declan growls, “and you’ll pay the fishes a visit.”
Before the others can bolt, I grab them both by the back of their heads and slam them into the bar. The impact rattles glasses, shatters one, sends blood dripping instantly from their noses. They wheeze, hands shaking.
I lean between them. “If I ever see any of you in here again—”
I don’t bother finishing. They’re already begging.
Four of my bouncers rush in and drag them out by their collars. Declan sighs dramatically.
“You didn’t need to break the fucking glasses.”
I glance at the wreckage. A new bartender steps forward, trembling.
“Not you, sweetheart,” I say, keeping my tone soft. “Tell Ky to clean it.”
She blushes bright red and nods, bolting away.
We head toward our women. Viviana grabs Declan by the neck and kisses him like she wants to bruise him. I pass them without slowing, eyes fixed on Autumn.
“Wow. Overreacting much?” she asks, crossing her arms, pretending she isn’t buzzing from the attention.
“Was it?” I grab her waist and drag her toward me.
“They didn’t even do anything.”
“They were going to. Trust me.” I tilt her chin up with two fingers. “Dance for me, trouble.”
Her lips part. Her breath trembles. She’s tipsy, loose, warm, reckless. Viviana kept shoving drinks into her hand, and when Viviana stopped, my sweet little wife grabbed more on her own.
She pushes against my chest, teasing, then turns around, and then she moves slow and controlled. Her hair cascades down her back, her ass lifts, her hips roll like she’s calling storms with her body. She’s mesmerising.
I see men looking at her again. Drooling.
Fuck this.
She’s mine.
I slide my hand to the back of her neck, fingers tightening just enough to make her shiver. My other hand clamps onto her hip, guiding her movements as her ass grinds against the hard length of my cock.
I lean down, lips at her ear. “Open your mouth.”
She whimpers when my hand slides to the front of her throat.
“Now.”
She obeys.
I lift my gaze, staring straight at the men watching her, then I spit into her pretty, open mouth.
“Swallow.”
Her throat works, and she moans.
“Good girl.”
I turn her toward me and crush my mouth to hers, swallowing her little gasp as her nipples press hard against my chest.
“That was hot,” she whispers, breathless.
I swipe my thumb over her bottom lip, smirking. “I can’t wait to have your ass tonight.”
She looks up at me, pupils blown wide. “I can’t wait.”
Yeah…
She’s fucking drunk.
It’s late, the club slowing, the music softer now. Viviana loops her arm around Autumn as they head toward the balcony stairs. Autumn yawns, like a child up past her bedtime.
“Home, please,” she mumbles, leaning her whole weight into my chest.
I chuckle and wrap an arm around her. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m not—” She tilts her head up to argue, eyes glossy, lips parted in that soft way that always ruins me.
Yeah. There won’t be any ass play tonight. I want her awake for that, screaming for me, remembering every inch. By the dreamy look in her eyes? She’ll be asleep before her seatbelt clicks.
I take my suit jacket off and settle it around her shoulders. She sways into it, into me, into the warmth, trusting without thinking.
The Callaghans walk with us to the back exit, exchanging lazy goodbyes. Viviana holding Declan’s hand. Connor’s cracking jokes. Kian’s scanning the parking lot.
Kaden moves ahead of us, hand near his holster, brow pulled tight. Something on the far end of the lot catches his eye.
“Kaden?” I ask, following his line of sight.
He stiffens.
“Get the fuck down!” he roars.
Everything happens at once.
His hand slams into my chest.
I lose my balance.
I grab Autumn and shove her down, hard.
She yelps, confused, breath knocked out.
Two gunshots crack through the cold air.
I pull my gun out before I even finish hitting the ground, scanning the shadows, lights, and dark stretch by the dumpsters. My heartbeat is violent. The ringing in my ears swallows everything.
Declan and his brothers shout our names from somewhere behind the SUVs.
A speeding motorbike tears past the back gate, engine screaming as it disappears into the night. The sound leaves a trail of dread thick enough to choke on.
I stand, gun aimed, searching for the shooter. My blood is ice. My vision tunnels, ready to shoot the next thing that breathes wrong.
Declan appears beside me, breathing hard, gun in hand. “Where? Where did it come from?”
“I—” The word catches in my throat.
“FLYNN!”
My heart stops.
A dead, hollow pause in my chest.
I spin so fast the ground tilts. I don’t see her. I don’t see anything except headlights, shadows, breath in the air. Then Kian darts around the SUV, his face draining.
I move, sprinting, nearly slipping on the pavement. My gun shakes in my hand. Every worst-case scenario hits me like body blows.
Is it her?
Is she bleeding?
Did the bullet—
Autumn comes into view. She’s on the ground, but she’s not bleeding; she’s holding Kaden.
Kaden is bleeding.
His head rests on her lap, her hands pressed desperately to his left side. Blood spills between her fingers, pooling fast, too bright under the parking lot lights.
“Call someone!” she sobs, her voice breaking so hard it slices through my ribs. “He’s shot—he’s shot—hurry!”
“Kaden,” I breathe, dropping to my knees beside him. “Fuck. Kaden.”
He tries to laugh, but it comes out as a gasp. “You okay, boss?”
“You worry about yourself,” I snap, pressing my palm over Autumn’s hands, adding pressure. The warmth of the blood surges against my skin. Too much. Too fast.
Declan grabs his phone, barking orders.
Kian shouts for Connor.
Their SUV roars to life, someone moving it closer, the headlights washing over us.
Autumn leans over Kaden, trembling so hard she can barely stay upright.
My jacket is half off her shoulders, sliding down her arms, soaked through with blood at the cuffs.
Tears streak her cheeks, her breath coming in fast, broken pulls of air as she keeps pressing her hands into the wound, hands that are far too small to stop that much blood.
The whole world becomes sirens inside my skull.
Noise, movement, shouting, engines—none of it reaches me.
All I see is her.
Her shaking hands.
Her lips moving around a whisper that guts me.
“Stay with me… please stay with me…”
For one sickening second it feels like a bullet tearing through my own chest, and I imagine those hands covered in her blood.
Her body lying there instead.
And something inside me snaps clean in half.
“Kaden, please. Look at me.” Autumn’s voice cracks, but her hands stay exactly where they are. She’s shaking, sobbing, but she doesn’t loosen her pressure for a second.
“You took a bullet for me,” I say, my own hands unsteady. “Fuck, Kaden… you took a bullet for me.”
Kaden’s eyes flutter, his breaths coming in fast, shallow gasps. He tries to smirk, but it dies halfway.
“Let’s move,” Kian says, controlled.
“The team’s on standby. We need to take him now,” Declan adds, his hand clamping down on my shoulder like he’s grounding me before I fall apart.