Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
DARAGH
T he estate was quiet, but Daragh knew better than to mistake silence for peace.
He stood at the window of his study, a glass of whiskey cradled in one hand, his other resting on the cool wood of the desk. Outside, the guards patrolled their designated routes, their movements precise, their vigilance unwavering. Security had been tripled, just as he had ordered. No one would get past them.
And yet, unease crawled beneath his skin, a primal warning that refused to be ignored.
Sebastian Wolfe had finally bared his teeth, putting a bounty on Daragh’s head for any bastard foolish enough to take the job. It was an act of desperation. A declaration of war. And Daragh welcomed it.
Across the room, Siobhan sat curled up in an armchair, wrapped in the robe he’d given her earlier. The fabric had slipped off one of her shoulders, revealing the delicate bite mark at her nape. His mark. She had barely spoken since the meeting in the main hall, her thoughts turned inward, her expression unreadable.
He could tell she was thinking about Sebastian. About what it meant that he had set his sights on Daragh instead of her. It was good for her to worry. Maybe then she would start to understand that her survival was no longer her concern alone—it was his.
A knock at the door interrupted the silence. Murphy stepped inside, his expression grim. “Patrol caught movement near the south perimeter. Could be nothing. Could be something.”
Daragh downed the rest of his whiskey, setting the glass aside with deliberate care. “Send a team to check it out. Make sure they’re ready for anything.”
Murphy nodded and disappeared into the hall, his boot steps fading into the distance.
Siobhan shifted in her chair, stretching out her legs. “You’re expecting trouble.”
Daragh arched an eyebrow at her. “We’re at war, kitten. Trouble is inevitable.”
She hugged her arms around herself; her gaze flicking to the window. The moon was high, casting long shadows across the grounds. She was thinking again. Calculating. He could see it in the way her jaw tightened, the way her fingers flexed against the armrest.
He strode toward her, stopping just beside the chair. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”
She looked up at him, her green eyes sharp. “Sebastian won’t stop. You know that, right? He won’t accept defeat. He’ll just escalate.”
Daragh hummed, running his fingers through her hair. “Let him.”
Her expression darkened. “You don’t understand. He doesn’t just want you dead—he wants to make an example out of you. He’ll send men, over and over again. They’re just cannon fodder. And if he can’t kill you, he’ll come for me. He’ll use me to break you.”
Daragh gripped her chin, tilting her face up to his. “He won’t touch you. You are mine.”
A knock sounded again—harder, faster. This time, Finn’s voice carried through the wood. “Daragh! Get out here. Now.”
Daragh’s pulse kicked up. He turned toward the door just as the first gunshot rang out and chaos erupted.
Daragh yanked Siobhan to her feet, pushing her toward the far side of the room. “Stay down.”
She barely had time to react before the next round of shots shattered the windows, glass raining down like razor-edged stars. The house trembled under the assault, gunfire sounding through the halls as the estate’s security forces returned fire.
Daragh didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the Glock from his desk, racking the slide as he moved toward the door.
Murphy barreled inside, blood streaking his arm. “They came through the south fence. At least ten of them, maybe more. They’re trying to breach the main house.”
Daragh cursed under his breath. A rival gang, no doubt. Someone greedy enough to try to earn Sebastian’s bounty, stupid enough to think they could succeed.
He turned to Siobhan. “Stay here.”
She glared at him. “Like hell.”
“Siobhan.” His voice was sharp, edged with command. “Do not test me.”
But she was already moving, grabbing the pistol he had given her days ago.
Murphy shot him a look. “She’s your wife.”
Daragh let out a frustrated breath. “Aye. Unfortunately, she is.”
Then he kicked open the door and stepped into the war zone.
Gunfire ricocheted off the stone walls, splintering wood, sending portraits crashing to the floor. Daragh moved with lethal precision, his Glock raised, his body a weapon honed for moments like this.
The first bastard who stepped into his line of sight went down with a bullet between the eyes.
The second managed a shot—grazing Daragh’s shoulder before he returned fire, dropping the man where he stood.
More were coming. He could hear them—boots pounding against the stone floors, shouts in a language he didn’t immediately recognize.
Siobhan crouched behind the overturned table, her breathing controlled, her hands steady as she aimed at the approaching figures.
Daragh took position beside her, reloading. “You good, kitten?”
She flashed him a quick, feral grin. “Never better.”
The next wave came fast.
Bullets flew. The air thickened with the scent of gunpowder and blood. Daragh and Siobhan fought side by side, every move in sync—like they had done this a hundred times before.
Then he saw it—movement from the corner of his eye. A man, raising a weapon—aimed directly at him. Daragh twisted, but it was too late. The gun fired. Pain exploded—but not in him.
Siobhan let out a strangled gasp, her body jerking as she stumbled back, clutching her side.
Daragh’s world narrowed to a single, brutal point.
She had taken the bullet for him.
His grip on his gun tightened, fury roaring to life inside him. He turned on the man who had shot her, his vision going red.
Two bullets. One to the chest. One to the head.
The man dropped before he even realized he was dead.
Daragh turned, catching Siobhan before she could hit the ground.
“Damn you, kitten,” he growled, his voice barely human. He pressed his hand against the wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood.
Siobhan gritted her teeth, her face pale. “Better me than you.”
Daragh’s jaw clenched so hard it ached. “Never. You hear me?” He lifted her into his arms, cradling her against him. “Never again.”
She tried to smile, but it was weak. “You’re awfully dramatic for a killer.”
Daragh ignored her, his only focus getting her to safety. The fight wasn’t over. But first, he had to make sure his mate survived.
The copper scent of blood filled the air, mixing with the acrid bite of gunpowder and the dying gasps of men who had been stupid enough to come for what belonged to him. The estate was a war zone, bodies littering the hardwood floors, the walls riddled with bullet holes. But Daragh only saw one thing—Siobhan, bleeding in his arms.
She had taken a bullet for him.
Fury clawed at his chest, coiling through his veins like wildfire. His hands pressed hard against her wound, blood seeping through his fingers.
Siobhan coughed, her breathing shallow but steady. “Daragh…”
“Quiet, kitten,” he growled, his voice barely human. “You’re going to be fine.”
The bastard who had pulled the trigger lay lifeless on the ground, but it wasn’t enough—it would never be enough.
A roar built inside him, ancient and feral, his panther surging forward with a force he couldn’t control. His hands dug into Siobhan’s waist where he held her, his vision blurring at the edges as something darker, something primal, took hold.
Someone shouted his name—Murphy, maybe, or Callum—but their voices were distant, unimportant. The scent of his mate’s blood and the knowledge that she had almost been taken from him were all that mattered to him. Another attacker stepped into the hall, gun raised. A dead man walking.
Daragh didn’t think. Didn’t plan.
He let go of Siobhan and shifted. The mist swirled around him as his body morphed from human to black panther, reforming into something far beyond human.
The world slowed.
The attacker hesitated, eyes widening in terror. He fired.
Daragh dodged, moving too fast, too fluid. Before the man could react, he was on him.
His claws ripped into flesh. His jaws clamped down on a throat, crushing bone, silencing the bastard’s scream before it fully formed. Blood splattered against the walls, hot and fresh, the taste of vengeance coating Daragh’s tongue.
He didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.
He tore through the intruder like he was nothing, bones cracking, flesh giving way beneath his claws. The man gurgled once, then went limp, his body falling in two separate pieces to the blood-soaked floor.
The battle still raged around him, but Daragh’s vision tunneled.
He needed more. More blood. More vengeance.
He turned, his gaze landing on another attacker—a terrified man trying to back away, gun shaking in his hands.
Daragh lunged.
But before he could strike, a voice cut through the haze.
“Daragh, stop.”
Soft hands touched his fur, sliding over his back, curling into the thick ruff at his neck. A scent wrapped around him, familiar and grounding.
Siobhan.
His mate.
She was still bleeding, still weak, but she was standing, pressing herself against him despite her injury.
“Come back to me,” she whispered, her voice steady. “Come back, Daragh.”
His panther snarled, caught between fury and instinct, but she didn’t flinch. Her fingers smoothed over his fur, slow and patient.
“It’s over,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his ear. “The men have them in hand. You don’t need to do this.”
The beast inside him fought, still hungry for violence, still craving more blood. But Siobhan was warm against him, her touch gentle, her presence undeniable. His mate needed him, not the monster.
With a shuddering breath, Daragh forced his panther to recede and the swirling mist enveloped him once more. This time when it dissipated, he was human—naked, human and highly aroused.
He fell to his knees, breath ragged, covered in blood that wasn’t his own. His chest heaved, his hands still curled like claws, shaking with the remnants of his transformation. Siobhan was kneeling in front of him, her face pale, her hand pressed against the wound in her side. But her eyes… Her eyes weren’t afraid.
She reached for him, fingertips skimming his cheek, wiping away a streak of crimson. “You’re back.”
Daragh swallowed hard, his throat tight. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “You shouldn’t be standing.”
She let out a quiet laugh, breathless but steady. “And you shouldn’t be eating people alive, yet here we are.”
His lips twitched despite himself. “He deserved it.”
Siobhan sighed, shaking her head. “Maybe. But you don’t need to be the monster all the time, Daragh.”
He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his face. The beast inside him still growled, still craved more, but Siobhan’s touch soothed it, calmed the storm.
The gunfire had died down. The estate was eerily quiet, save for the distant shouts of Murphy and Finn rounding up the survivors.
It was over. For now.
Daragh reached for Siobhan, his fingers brushing over her skin. “You’re hurt.”
She arched an eyebrow. “So are you.”
His body ached, his skin littered with minor cuts and bruises, but he ignored it. “I heal faster.”
“So do I,” she murmured, her gaze flicking to his claiming mark at her neck.
Something dark and possessive coiled inside him. She was his. No matter what came next, no matter who tried to take her, she would never belong to anyone else.
He lifted her effortlessly, cradling her against his chest. “Let’s get you patched up, kitten.”
She hummed in agreement, resting her head against his shoulder. “You owe me for this, you know.”
Daragh chuckled, carrying her through the carnage, his grip unrelenting. “Oh, kitten. You have no idea how much you belong to me now.”
Siobhan didn’t argue.
Daragh carried Siobhan up the stairs, his blood still running hot, his muscles vibrating with the aftermath of his shift. His panther paced just beneath his skin, barely contained, the need to protect her an instinct so fierce it made his bones ache.
He held her in his arms; she bled, breathing shallowly, but remained unbroken. No, his mate was a fighter. Even as she shivered against him, her fingers curled into his chest, grounding herself.
His. The word settled deep, final and absolute.
She had taken a bullet for him.
His grip tightened around her, his jaw clenched so hard it could have cracked.
She had thrown herself in front of a bullet meant for him without hesitation.
Something dark and possessive took root inside him. He knew what this meant.
She had acted on instinct, just as he would have for her. The bond—this connection that had bound them since the moment he’d claimed her—was no longer something theoretical, something she could fight or deny.
It was real. Undeniable. Unbreakable.
And he would kill every man in Ireland before he let anything take her from him.
“Daragh, I can walk,” Siobhan gritted out, her voice hoarse.
His gaze snapped down to her, the sight of her pale face nearly sending him into another rage. “Don’t test me, kitten. You’ll stay exactly where you are.”
She huffed a breath, her head tipping against his shoulder, too tired to argue. “You’re impossible.”
His lips twitched, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “And you’re reckless.”
The blood leaking from her wound made his gut twist. He wasn’t used to this—wasn’t used to fear. But the second he’d seen her stumble, the scent of her blood filling the air, he had known something inside him had permanently changed.
They reached his bedroom, and he laid her down on the bed, stripping off her ruined robe to get a better look at the wound. His fingers traced the torn flesh just below her ribs, his panther snarling at the sight of her blood staining his sheets.
They shouldn’t have hurt her.
He should have protected her better.
The bullet had gone clean through. It wasn’t fatal, not to a panther shifter, but that didn’t matter. He had seen the moment she’d made the choice to take the hit, the way she had moved without thinking—instinct overriding sense.
She hadn’t just acted on emotion. She had acted on the bond.
Daragh’s heart thundered in his chest.
“What?” Siobhan asked, her voice softer now.
He shook his head. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”
She snorted. “You mean you don’t enjoy seeing me bleed? I guess that’s good to know.”
His fingers brushed the edge of her wound, his touch careful despite the violent energy still simmering beneath his skin. “No, kitten. I don’t enjoy knowing you would have died for me.”
Her lips parted slightly, her expression unreadable. “I didn’t think. I just…”
“You felt.” His voice was rough, but not with anger. With something deeper. Something neither of them had been ready to name before now.
Siobhan swallowed hard, her throat working. She knew.
Neither of them spoke as he cleaned the wound, his movements methodical. She didn’t wince, didn’t complain. She just watched him, those sharp green eyes tracking his every move.
When he was done, he leaned back, exhaling slowly, trying to steady the storm inside him.
“You’re mine,” he murmured.
She didn’t deny it.
Daragh’s fingers traced the fresh bite on her neck, his claiming mark. He had thought it was only possession before—thought he had claimed her out of instinct, out of dominance. But now, looking at her—knowing what she had done for him, knowing that she had felt their bond as deeply as he had—he understood the truth.
This wasn’t just about power. This was about forever. She belonged to him in a way no one ever had. And nothing, nothing, would ever take her from him.
Siobhan’s breath came uneven, her lips parting slightly. “Daragh…”
Before she could say anything else, his phone buzzed. A growl rumbled low in his chest as he grabbed it from the nightstand. He almost ignored it, but one glance at the screen had him answering immediately.
Finn’s voice was tight. “We’ve got a problem.”
Daragh’s jaw clenched. “What now?”
“Con called. He’s got intel that Sebastian doesn’t plan to wait any longer. He knows this first attempt was a failure and that we have reinforcements headed here. He’s coming for her tonight.”
Daragh’s grip tightened around the phone. “Tell Con we’re ready.”
Finn hesitated. “And what about her?”
Daragh looked down at Siobhan, his gaze locking onto hers, the weight of his decision already made.
“Get everyone in position,” he said. “Because if Sebastian thinks he can take my mate from me, he’s about to find out exactly how wrong he is.”
Siobhan didn’t look away.
Neither did he.
She had taken a bullet for him. Now, he would bring Sebastian Wolfe’s world down around his ears.