Chapter 22 Declan
DECLAN
“You don’t need to hover over me. And you can wipe that guilty look off your face. I’m fine and your doctor is just being dramatic,” Zahra groans as I replace the ice pack on her forehead with a new one.
“My doctor said you have a concussion and need lots of rest for your symptoms to go away.”
“I don’t have a concussion, I’m completely fine,” she huffs, standing up from the coach and taking a few wobbly steps forward. “See. Fine. You can take me home now.”
“I’m sorry, love, but I’m going to have to take the word of my doctor.
You know, the one who went through years of extensive training, over a stubborn mob boss who will never admit to being hurt.
” I gently guide her back onto the couch, refusing to acknowledge the fact that the term of endearment had rolled so easily off my tongue.
She looks up at me and blinks. “Wow. I really must be concussed, because I swear you just called me ‘love’.”
“Hmm, you must have misheard me.” I adjust the pillow behind Zahra so it props her up more, before taking a seat next to her.
“You sure? Because I don’t think concussions mess with your hearing.”
“They can actually. It’s a fairly common side effect.” Blame it on her concussion, nice one, Declan.
“I can’t say I believe you but I’m willing to ignore it, so long as you stop looking at me like you’re the reason I have this giant lump on the back of my head.” Zahra winces as she moves the ice pack to the back of her skull.
Her words are meant to comfort me, but I don’t deserve them. “I should have been there. Shouldn’t have let you go into that room alone.”
“You didn’t let me do anything. We agreed on the plan ahead of time, and you did exactly what you were supposed to do.
In case I need to remind you, the traitor is dead, whereas I am very much alive.
” Zahra leans back and closes her eyes. I’d dimmed all the lights in the room, but her injury was still very fresh, and she’d declined to take any of the stronger pain meds my doctor offered.
“You still got hurt,” I huff, as if I wasn’t talking to a literal boss. As if I wasn’t a Made man myself.
“I run a fucking mafia, Declan. Getting hurt is part of the job description. So is being unable to fully protect the people you care about, no matter how much you want to. You and I know that better than anyone,” she whispers.
“That used to be easier for me to accept,” I admit.
“What changed?”
“What do you think?” I pick at my fingernails, wanting nothing more than to end this conversation, but refusing to walk away from Zahra.
“Our fathers being murdered,” she guesses correctly. She takes a long, hard swallow, eyebrows pinching together, and I can tell she’s trying to hold in tears. “Damn concussion is making me emotional.”
“I thought you said you weren’t concussed.”
Her lips lift up slightly. “You’re right. I’m not. Must just be my allergies then.”
“That makes sense, the room is quite dusty.”
Zahra snorts. “If Maura heard you say that, she’d whack you upside the head with a feather duster.”
“Probably. Who knows, maybe she’d swing so hard we’d both be concussed,” I tease.
“Ha-ha.” A full-on smile breaks out on Zahra’s face for a moment before her expression turns serious. “Blaming yourself for their deaths is an unfair burden to carry.”
I shake my head. “I should have been there.”
“You had another job to take care of,” she argues.
“That doesn’t matter. I should’ve been there. If I had taken a second before I left to make sure I had my phone with me, I would’ve been there,” I seethe, repeating the same words I’ve been saying to myself every day.
“Then you would have been dead. There’s no way their killer would have let you walk out alive.”
“Maybe that would’ve been for the best,” I snap. The immediate shame that hits my stomach is too much. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I shut my eyes as if that will somehow allow me to disappear.
I feel a soft caress on my cheeks and my eyes snap open.
Zahra’s delicate hands are placed on either side of my face, and she looks a mix of concerned and empathetic, as if she had read my mind.
“Just because they’re dead doesn’t mean you should be too.
Survivor's guilt is one of the deadliest poisons you can consume, Declan. It seeps into your bloodstream and consumes you bit by bit until there’s nothing left.
You have to fight it. Every minute of every day.
Promise me you’ll fight.” She searches my eyes, desperate for me to agree.
“I’ve been fighting. It’s just exhausting.” I wait for the judgment to come. Zahra excelled at keeping her composure and demonstrating how lethal she is even after her life had just been threatened. Admitting weakness is not something a boss should ever do, and I had done just that.
I mentally prepare myself for a berating, to just suck it up and get over it.
Instead, Zahra surprises me—giving me a glimpse of the person hidden behind all the armor.
“I know it is. It drains me every day too. There are so many days when I just want to crawl into a ball and let it all consume me, but I can’t.
We can’t. Too many people are counting on us.
All we can do is take it day by day, and hope that tomorrow feels a bit lighter than yesterday. ”
I place my hands on top of hers, letting the contact ground me. “Day by day. I can do that.”
“Good. I’m going to hold you to that.” She lets out a sigh of relief before gently removing her hands from my face and sinking back into the couch.
We sit in comfortable silence, long enough for me to think she’s fallen asleep, until Zahra speaks. “A princess will die, and the King will rise. How many times do you think he practiced that line in front of a mirror?” she snorts, though a deep frown consumes her face.
“At least fifty. Probably part of whatever initiation he went through to join his league of misfits. Along with that awful vulture tattoo.”
“His league of misfits nearly killed me three times.”
“Nearly being the operative word,” I remind her.
“I knew my rise into power would be controversial. I anticipated a few old heads getting up in arms about it. A couple of threats to pull out of old deals. Jokes about marrying me off to their younger sons so I could join their family. I never anticipated a whole coup against me though.” She drags a hand down her face.
“A coup is a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
“What would you call three men coming together to kill me because they’re upset I’m in charge?”
“Sexism?” I shrug, pride filling my chest as I draw out a soft chuckle from Zahra.
“Fair enough.” She clicks her tongue, though she looks partially defeated.
“What is it?”
She angles her head toward me, opening and closing her mouth as if speaking would somehow be her demise.
“You’ve already heard some of my darkest thoughts, Zahra. I promise I won’t scare easily from yours.”
“It’s not that, it’s just… Sometimes I wonder if I should just step down. Let Cyrus take over. It would be easier for him. He wouldn't have to prove his worth every time he stepped into a room. He would just garner the respect. Isn’t that what every mob boss should have? Immediate respect.”
I shake my head vehemently. “He only has that respect because of your father. Without Naser, he’s nothing.”
“That makes two of us, I guess.”
“No. No, it doesn’t. Your father was an incredible man, don’t get me wrong, but I have no doubts your legacy will supersede his tenfold.
” Between her hacking skills, ability to sniff out a rat, and the absolute dominance she maintains in the most dangerous situations, she’s more than a force to be reckoned with.
“I made you a promise to fight. Can you make a promise to me?”
Her eyebrows furrow together. “Depends on what you’re asking me.”
“To never let anyone steal your light, or take your fight from you.”
Her jaw hardens as my words settle. The shield she let down for me, only for me, is put back in place as she looks me dead in the eye and says, “I promise.”