16. Enya
ENYA
I can't stop shaking.
Devin's holding me on the couch, one arm around my shoulders, the other hand stroking my hair in slow, steady movements. But my body won't listen. Won't calm down. It just keeps trembling like I'm freezing even though the flat's warm.
I see you.
The words loop in my head, over and over. Three words that mean everything, that mean Declan was here, right outside my door. Close enough to knock. Close enough to slide that note under.
Close enough to hurt me.
"I'm sorry," I whisper against Devin's chest. "I'm sorry, I just can’t…”
"Stop apologizing." His voice is low. Steady. "You've got nothing to be sorry for."
"I'm falling apart. I should be stronger than this."
"You are strong. You're just scared. There's a difference."
I press my face harder against him, trying to breathe. Grounding myself in the solid warmth of him makes me feel safer than I should be feeling.
"He was right there," I say, my voice muffled. "What if you hadn't been here? What if Warren had been home? What if—"
"But I was here. And Warren's safe with your mam. And you're safe now."
"For how long?" I pull back and look up at him. "How long until he comes back? Until he stops just watching and actually..."
I can't finish the sentence. Can't say the words out loud.
Devin's jaw tightens. His eyes go dark with something that looks like rage barely contained. "He's not getting that chance."
"You don't know that."
"Yeah, I do." He cups my face with both hands, makes me look at him. "Because I'm not letting him near you. Neither is the club. This ends now."
"Devin..."
"I mean it, Enya. He made his move, left that note, which means he's escalating. And when he escalates, we end him."
The words should scare me, should make me pull away, but they don't. They make me feel something I haven't felt in days.
Protected.
"I'm terrified he's going to hurt you," I whisper. "If he knows about you. If he sees you as... as something to me. He'll come after you too."
"Let him try."
"I'm serious. You don't know what he's like. He doesn't fight fair. He watches and waits and finds the thing that'll hurt you most."
"Then he'll find out I'm not someone he wants to fuck with."
I stare at him, at the certainty in his eyes. The deadly calm. And I believe him. Despite everything. Despite the fear. I believe him.
"When this is over," Devin says quietly, "I want to meet your boy."
Everything stops.
My breath, my heart, my thoughts, they just... stop.
"What?"
"Warren. I want to meet him. Properly. Not just seeing him from a distance or hearing about him. I want to know him."
Tears spring to my eyes, hot and immediate. "You... you want to meet Warren?"
"Yeah. If that's alright with you."
I can't speak. Can't form words. Because this is huge. Massive. Letting someone into Warren's life. Letting Devin become real to my son instead of just the man from the pub.
"Why?" I finally manage.
"Because he's part of you. Because he matters to you, which means he matters to me." Devin brushes a tear from my cheek with his thumb. "And because I'm not planning on going anywhere. So it makes sense."
"You're not planning on going anywhere," I repeat, testing the words, seeing if they hold weight or crumble.
"No. I'm not."
More tears fall. I swipe at them angrily. "Christ, I'm a mess."
"You're perfect."
"I'm falling apart."
"You're human." He pulls me close again, and I go willingly. I press my face against his neck and just breathe him in. "Tell me about him. Warren. What's he like?"
The question catches me off guard. "Why?"
"Because I want to know."
I'm quiet for a moment. Then, slowly, words start coming.
"He's sweet. Gentle. Too gentle sometimes.
He gets upset when other kids are mean or when he sees someone sad.
" I smile despite everything. "He's obsessed with dinosaurs right now.
He can name every single one and tell me facts I never asked for, but I always find myself intrigued to learn more. "
Devin's hand moves in slow circles on my back as he listens.
"He's scared of the dark. Scared of loud noises. Scared of—" I stop. Swallow hard. "He has nightmares about Declan, even though he doesn't really remember him. Just knows there was a man who made Mam sad and scared. Sometimes he wakes up crying, asking if Da's coming back."
"What do you tell him?"
"That he's safe. That I won't let anyone hurt him. That Da's gone and not coming back." My voice breaks. "But what if I'm lying? What if Declan…”
"He won't. I promise you, Enya. He won't get near Warren."
I want to believe him. God, I want to believe him so badly.
Devin's phone rings, sharp and loud in the quiet flat. He pulls it out, glances at the screen, then stands.
"I need to take this."
"Okay."
He steps into the hallway but doesn't close the door. I can hear his voice, low and tense.
"Yeah... Right... No, she's here... Yeah, I know... Tonight?... Alright."
My stomach drops. Something's happening. He comes back in, pocketing his phone. His expression is carefully neutral, but I can see the tension in his shoulders.
"What's going on?"
"The lads are mobilizing. Looking for Declan. They've got leads on where he might be staying."
Fear spikes through me. "What does that mean?"
"It means we're handling it."
"Handling it how?"
He doesn't answer. He just looks at me with those dark eyes that see too much.
"Devin. How are you handling it?"
"However we need to."
The implication hangs heavy between us. Violence. Possibly worse.
"I don't want you getting hurt because of me."
"I won't."
"You don't know that."
"I know I'm not sitting back while he terrorizes you." He crosses to me and kneels in front of the couch. "You're not staying here tonight. Not after that note. You're coming to the clubhouse."
"What? No. I can't—"
"Yes, you can. And you will."
"Devin, I can't just show up at your clubhouse. I don't know anyone. I don't—"
"You know me. That's enough." His tone softens. "Please, Enya. I can't leave you here alone, not knowing he's been outside your door. I need you somewhere safe. Somewhere I know brothers are watching."
I want to argue. Want to insist I'm fine here. But I'm not fine. I'm terrified. And the thought of being alone in this flat, knowing Declan was just here...
"Okay," I whisper.
"Okay?"
"Okay. I'll come."
Relief crosses his face. "Good. Pack a bag. Just overnight stuff. You can come back tomorrow when..."
When what? When Declan's dealt with? When he's dead?
I don't ask. Just nod.
I try to pack, but my hands are shaking too badly. I can't fold clothes properly. Can't remember what I need. I just stand there in my bedroom staring at an open drawer like it's a puzzle I can't solve.
Devin appears beside me. "Let me."
He packs for me, grabbing leggings, a jumper, and clean underwear. He tosses them in a small duffel then leads me out of the flat like I'm a child who needs guiding.
Maybe I am right now.
The car ride to the clubhouse is quiet. Tense. Devin drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on my thigh. Grounding me. Keeping me present.
But I can't stop looking out the window, scanning every shadow, every parked car, every person on the street.
Is that him? Or that one?
What if he's following us?
What if he knows where we're going?
"Breathe," Devin says quietly. "You're safe."
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm watching. I've checked the mirrors. No one's following us."
I want to believe him. I try to force my body to relax, but it won't. It just keeps coiling tighter and tighter.
By the time we pull up outside the clubhouse, I'm nearly hyperventilating.
Devin parks and turns to me. "You alright?"
"No."
"Honest. I like that." He squeezes my hand. "Come on. They're waiting for you."
"Who's waiting?"
"The women. I texted ahead, asked them to be here."
"Why?"
"Because you need people right now. And they're good people."
I follow him inside on shaky legs. The clubhouse is warm and a lot quieter than the last time I was here.
And there, in the main room, are five women. All looking at me with varying expressions of concern and welcome.
Devin's hand finds the small of my back. "Enya, these are the Old Ladies. Chloe, Ailbhe, Mallory, Gráinne, Caoimhe."
A redhead with kind eyes steps forward first. “I’m Chloe, I’m Pyro's woman. It's lovely to meet you."
She takes my hand and shakes it, a beautiful smile on her face.
Then a tall woman with dark hair pulls me into an unexpected hug. “Hey, I’m Ailbhe, I’m Preacher's. You look like you need a hug, love."
I do. I really do.
A blonde with a sharp smile and knowing eyes nods at me. “I’m Mallory, I’m Raptor's woman. Tank’s finally bringing someone home? About bloody time."
"Mallory, Jesus," another woman says. Dark curls, bright energy. "Give her a minute to breathe. I'm Gráinne. Bozo's woman. Don't mind Mallory. She's always like this."
The last woman, petite with gentle eyes, smiles softly. “Hi, I’m Caoimhe, I’m Cowboy's. Come on, let's get you some tea."
And just like that, I'm swept into their orbit. Guided to a couch. Given a mug of hot tea. Surrounded by warmth and acceptance.
Devin hovers nearby, protective. But the women wave him off.
"We've got her," Chloe says firmly. "Go do whatever you need to do. She's safe with us."
He looks at me. I nod. He leaves reluctantly.
And then it's just me and them.
"So," Mallory says, settling beside me. "Tank's been a right mess over you."
"Mallory," Ailbhe warns.
"What? It's true. The man's been distracted for weeks."
"He cares about you," Caoimhe says gently. "A lot. Which means you're family now."
Family.
The word hits hard. I've been alone for so long. Just me and Warren and Mam. No one else.
"I don't want to be a burden," I say quietly.
"You're not," Chloe says firmly. "And anyone who makes you feel like you are can fuck right off."
"She's right," Gráinne adds. "We take care of our own. And if Tank says you're his, then you're ours too."
Ailbhe sits beside me and rubs my back in slow circles. "What happened today? Tank said something about a note?"
I tell them. Halting at first, then everything spills out. The knock. The note. The terror. How Devin's been watching over me. How scared I am.
They listen. Really listen. No judgment. No platitudes. Just presence.
"That bastard," Mallory says when I finish. "Someone needs to end him."
"Mallory!"
"What? It's true." She looks at me. "The boys will handle it. They always do. And trust me, Declan won't know what hit him."
"I'm scared he'll hurt Devin," I whisper.
"He won't," Chloe says with absolute certainty. "These men... they're dangerous when they need to be. Tank can handle himself."
"But what if—"
"No what ifs," Ailbhe says gently. "That's how you drive yourself mad. Just focus on right now. You're safe. You're with us. That's enough."
I nod. Try to believe it.
They stay with me and talk about normal things. Their men. Their lives. Making me laugh despite everything.
And slowly, very slowly, I start to relax.
Then Devin's phone rings again. He's across the room talking to some brothers. I see him answer. See his expression change.
He looks at me. Something passes across his face.
He crosses to us. "I have to go."
Everything in me goes cold. "What? No."
"Rush and Pyro need me. They've got a location."
"No. No, you can't." I stand, grab his cut. "Please don't go. Please. What if he hurts you? What if—"
"Enya." He holds my face between his hands. "I'm coming back. I promise."
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do." He presses his forehead to mine. "I'm coming back. To you. I promise."
"Devin..."
He kisses my forehead. Soft. Lingering. Then pulls away.
And walks out.
The door closes behind him, and everything inside me shatters.
I can't breathe. Can't think. I just stand there shaking, vision blurring, chest so tight I might die.
What if he doesn't come back?
What if Declan kills him?
What if this is my fault?
My legs give out. I collapse onto the couch, gasping for air that won't come, hands shaking so violently I can't control them.
"Enya." Chloe's voice. Calm. Steady. She's kneeling in front of me, holding my hands. "Look at me. Eyes on me."
I try. Can't focus. Everything's spinning.
"Breathe with me," she says. "In for four. Hold for four. Out for four. Can you do that?"
I try. Fail. Gasp instead.
Ailbhe's behind me on the couch, arms around me, rubbing my back. "You're alright, love. You're safe. Just breathe."
"He's going to get hurt," I choke out. "Declan's going to kill him. I know it. I know—"
"No," Chloe says firmly. "Tank is one of the most capable men I know. He can handle himself."
"But what if—"
"No what ifs. Just breathe. In for four. Come on."
I try again. This time it works. Slightly.
In. Hold. Out.
Again.
And again.
Slowly, the panic recedes, leaving me exhausted and hollow but breathing.
"There you go," Ailbhe murmurs. "That's it."
"I can't lose him," I whisper. "I just found him. I can't..."
"You won't," Caoimhe says from nearby. "These boys always come home. Always."
"How do you know?"
"Because they have us to come home to," Mallory says. "And they're too stubborn to die."
I want to believe them. Want to trust that Devin will walk back through that door.
But all I can think about is Declan. And violence. And everything going wrong.
They settle me into Devin’s room eventually. I lie on the bed fully clothed, staring at the ceiling, too wired to sleep.
Devin's out there. Hunting Declan. Or being hunted by him.
And I'm here. Useless. Terrified.
I pull out my phone. No messages. No calls.
Nothing.
I clutch it to my chest and close my eyes.
"Please come back," I whisper into the dark. "Please."
But the silence offers no answers.
Just fear. And waiting. And the crushing weight of not knowing.