Chapter Sixteen
Autumn
I can’t stop pacing. My thoughts are all over the place, tangling in knots I can’t undo. What the hell does he mean Declan and Viviana know?
Not Viviana. No. She would never let anything happen to me; we’re friends. Aren’t we?
I freeze in the middle of the room. For the first time, I really see it.
It’s massive.
The bed alone could swallow me whole; it’s tall, heavy, with dark wood carved into the kind of shapes that feel ancient, almost violent.
The white and cream sheets are tucked perfectly, like they’ve never been touched.
The walls are a cool, stormy grey, and two enormous windows stretch almost to the ceiling, rounded at the top, sealed shut.
Outside, a stone balcony wraps around the edge of the manor.
There’s a low couch, a table, and beyond that…
trees. Miles and miles of them. He wasn’t lying. This place is in the middle of nowhere.
There’s a walk-in closet to the left, mostly empty with just a few black hangers and three shirts, button-down, pressed and hanging neatly at eye level.
I step closer.
God.
They smell like him.
That clean, deep cologne that clung to my skin when he pulled me too close. It’s in the fabric, in the air, in my lungs. I grip the edge of the closet door and lean in like an idiot—like breathing him in will give me answers instead of more confusion.
There’s a bathroom across from the bed, the door cracked open. I peek in.
Black tiles, a massive glass walk-in shower, a bathtub sunk into a marble platform with a step up to reach it. Everything is rich, expensive, controlled, just like him.
The vanity’s bare, and the nightstands too; there are no decorations, not a single thing on the walls, nothing. I sit on the bed; my feet can’t reach the floor.
What the hell am I going to do now?
It could be worse, right? Flynn never hurt me; he’s a little unhinged, yes, but the stalker is worse. What if Flynn can find the stalker? I can have my life back.
But if he finds him, will he let me go after? I drop back and lie on the bed; closing my eyes, all I see is him. His strong, huge hands, the veins, his scent. I shake my head.
No, I can’t do this. I need to sleep, rest. I will think better in the morning.
I hope…
I hear a knock on the door, and before I can even open my eyes, someone comes in.
“Get dressed. Declan should be here in twenty minutes.” Flynn’s voice is cold, detached. I haven’t heard this tone before. I look at him, but he’s already turning away.
I jump from the bed and head to the bathroom; at least it has the basics. I brush my teeth, dress in my only pair of leggings and my bra, and since my sweater looks a mess, I take one of the white button-ups from the closet.
Let’s see how he deals with that. Asshole.
Another knock as I’m putting on my boots makes me jump. He opens the door and doesn’t wait. Again.
“You could at least ask before opening the door,” I snap.
He looks at me, then down at the shirt. His shirt. I watch him swallow, then his jaw clenches.
“My house, my rules.”
He steps aside, waiting for me to leave. I let out a breath, feeling the strong urge to throw something at his face.
He closes the door and starts walking; I follow behind. This place doesn’t even look like someone lives here. It’s dark, dark marble floors, black brick walls, huge windows, but the decorations are minimal. A painting of some woods, the view of the docks at night, and that’s it.
We head down the stairs; four men are standing by the front door. They nod.
Flynn turns left, and we go down a hallway. We stop at a set of double doors; he opens them, and Viviana runs to hug me.
“Oh my God, I was so worried.” She steps back and looks me over. “Did he hurt you?”
Flynn crosses his arms, leaning against the wall next to us.
Declan stands near the desk, in a perfect suit as always, but he’s not looking at me; he’s staring at Flynn, and it feels like they’re having an entire conversation with their eyes. It annoys the hell out of me.
“Did you know?” I ask her. She lets me go, stepping back, but her eyes never leave mine.
“Not until it was decided,” she says. Her voice is gentle, but she seems angry.
“Decided?” I look between them. “Who decided to get me kidnapped?”
“I did,” Declan says. No shame. No regret. And my jaw drops.
“Why the hell would you decide that?” I turn to Declan, trying to control the shaking in my voice, trying to stay angry instead of terrified.
“Who the fuck are you to decide something like that?” I step closer to him, fury rising too fast for me to stop it.
“Careful, trouble,” Flynn warns from behind, his voice calm, low… threatening, but I don’t care. I need answers. I need the truth.
“Declan!” I snap, my pulse thundering in my ears. He doesn’t move, just stares between me and Flynn like they’re silently communicating, making decisions without me again.
“Who the hell are you?”
“The boss,” Kian says, appearing behind me with Connor.
Of course.
Great. Now they’re all here.
I try to ignore the panic crawling up my spine, coiling tight in my stomach. It’s cold and sharp and getting harder to hide.
“The boss?” I turn to Kian. “Whose boss?”
Viviana steps forward, cautiously.
“If we tell you everything,” she says, her voice soft but heavy, “you’ll be a part of it—in a way we won’t be able to protect.”
I shake my head, backing away, the pressure building in my chest like it might crack me open.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
My back hits Connor. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch.
“I’ve been running from a stalker for years. I left my home, my family, my friends, everything, just to keep them safe. He destroyed every friendship I had, every boyfriend, every job…”
I bite my lip, swallowing the lump in my throat, trying to keep the tears at bay.
“Autumn.” Viviana moves closer.
I step back again.
“I think I can handle whatever this is.” I wave my hand between them, heart racing. “Just tell me.”
“Mafia.”
Flynn’s voice cuts through the air like a blade, cold and casual from the corner.
All eyes swing toward him.
“Fuck, Flynn,” Declan groans.
“What?” I ask, looking at him. He’s too calm. Too composed. And that… smile at the edge of his mouth? It chills me.
“Irish Mafia. Old families. Declan is the leader.”
His voice is calm, flat. I swear he’s enjoying this.
His eyes flick to Declan. There’s a smirk between them, something unspoken, and I hate that it makes my stomach twist.
“Fucking hell, Flynn,” Declan mutters, rubbing a hand over his dark hair.
And I freeze.
Wait.
Mafia?
All of them?
The mansion. The penthouse. The expensive cars. The suits.
I look at them, one by one. The way they carry themselves. Like, they don’t follow rules; they make them. Like they expect obedience without asking. Like they could kill someone and still be home in time for dinner.
“Autumn? Sweetie?”
Viviana’s voice is soft. I look at her. Her eyes are wide, pleading.
“And you’re married to Declan,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
She nods. “I never wanted you pulled into this. We did everything we could to keep you out.”
Right.
Except telling me.
I’ve been to their home more times than I can count.
I trusted her.
“Did you know Flynn owned the apartment?”
I stare at her, searching for any flicker of a lie.
“No. Not when we saw it. Only after. Kian didn’t know either, not until the realtor told him while we were checking the bedroom.” Her eyes are full of worry. “I swear.”
“She didn’t know. No one did. Besides me and Kaden.”
Flynn’s voice cuts in like a fucking razor.
I look at her again. Then at Declan. “So you lead some Irish mafia business?”
Declan smirks, dark and infuriating. “Families. Four of them. They all answer to me.”
He points at Flynn. “Flynn and I, our families have been tied together since we were kids. He’s my right-hand man.”
What the actual fuck?
“Wait.” I step back, needing space, breath, something.
Connor and Kian move, clearing a path. They’re always watching. Calculating.
“Why would you kidnap me?” My voice cracks, but I don’t care. “Why do any of you even care? You barely know me!”
None of it makes sense.
If this is all true…
I’m nobody.
I’m good at my job, sure. But not risk the Irish mafia’s attention, good.
I notice how Declan looks at Flynn, like he’s expecting him to say something.
“You and Viviana are good friends. She cares for you,” Declan says, and I frown.
Okay, that’s true. From everything she’s done since the fire… She took me into their mansion, slept beside me for the first two nights just to make sure I took all the pills. She brought me clothes, a phone. She hasn’t left my side.
But still…
I turn to Flynn. “Is this because of that night?”
Everyone goes quiet.
Flynn doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch.
His arms stay crossed, his eyes locked on mine, still, but something feral simmers underneath.
“And if it was?” he asks, voice deep, a low rasp that curls heat in my chest. His green eyes darken, swallowing the light.
“It didn’t mean anything, Flynn!” I raise my voice, something sharp and raw tearing up my throat.
“The stalker knew I was a virgin. He made sure I stayed that way. After the club photoshoot, I decided I had had enough. I needed to—” I pause, chest rising, heart hammering.
“I thought that if he knew I wasn’t a… you know… he would leave me alone.”
“Well, that plan turned to shit very quickly,” Connor mutters with a chuckle.
Flynn cuts him a look sharp enough to slice skin.
His voice again, lower this time, slower. “So I was a means to an end?” He pushes off the wall, and something shifts in the air.
He walks toward me slowly, shoulders squared, movements controlled, but there’s tension everywhere. His muscles roll with each step. The veins on his hands tighten like cords. His pupils are blown wide, his expression unreadable, like he’s holding something back with both hands.
Everything else fades.
“I never meant to hurt you,” I whisper, suddenly unsure.
He stops inches in front of me.
Then he leans in; his lips brush the shell of my ear, warm breath skating across my skin.
“You didn’t hurt me, trouble…”
His voice drops to a growl, feral and full of heat.
“You made me own you. And now there’s no escape.”
He pulls back, and I stare at him.
No one speaks. Not for a full minute.
“Flynn took you to keep you safe,” Viviana says softly, stepping between us. “He knew—we all knew—you were going to leave, but Autumn, you’ve done that before, and the stalker never left.”
Her words fight to get through the echo of Flynn’s voice still twisting in my mind.
I finally look at her. “Tell me, Autumn… did he ever do something like the fire or the brick before?”
It takes me a second to catch up. “No. He used to send letters with threats when he was upset about something I did. When they got more frequent, I’d move.”
“That means he’s escalating. Getting furious. And more dangerous,” Declan says, his voice low. I nod, numb.
I turn to him. “Will you let me go once the stalker is found?”
Declan doesn’t answer.
No one does until Viviana grabs my hand.
“They will. Or help me, God, I’ll cut their heads off.”
She squeezes my hand. “I promise. You’re safe with us.”
My voice shakes as I ask, “Can I stay with you and Declan?”
She looks at him.
“You’re safer here. With Flynn. He can protect you.” She lets out a breath like it hurts to say it.
So I’m safer with Flynn than with the Irish Mafia’s leader?
Right.
I’m not stupid. Flynn wants me here, and Declan’s letting him have me.
“If you need anything, call me,” Viviana says, hugging me again. I just nod.
She turns to Flynn and tells him something in Italian I don’t understand.
The corner of his mouth lifts barely.
The Callaghans leave, and I’m left in this place. With Flynn and his men.
I turn to look at him over my shoulder, glaring. “You’ll never own me, Flynn. I don’t care who you are.”
He moves before I can blink.
His hand wraps around my waist, pulling me back against him hard enough to make me gasp.
“We’ll see about that.”
He lets go just as fast, stepping in front of me again, facing me head-on.
His eyes are calm, but I can feel the violence behind them, the control it takes for him to stay composed.
“The rules are simple,” he says. “You don’t leave the estate. If you do, I’ll hunt you down, and you won’t like the consequences.”
His voice doesn’t rise. It doesn’t need to. It cuts clean.
“You answer the phone when I call. You show up for dinner every night.”
His gaze doesn’t shift. Doesn’t blink. “You can walk around the mansion. Order what you want: clothes, books, food. You have your space.”
Then that smirk again. A dark, dangerous curve.
“But if you try to run, if you try to kill me…” He pauses. “You’ll lose all privileges and stay locked in your room like a misbehaving pet.”
He leans in. One hand grips my chin tight, forcing my eyes to stay on his.
“Got it?”
“Yes, Sir,” I snarl, teeth clenched, but he only smiles wider.
He steps closer; his lips graze my ear.
“Call me that again.”