Chapter Twenty-Seven
Flynn
I sit beside Autumn, my mind refusing to shut off. It can’t.
They knew exactly where we were.
They didn’t go for the Callaghans.
They aimed at me, and Kaden took the bullet meant for my chest.
She shifts with a small groan, then jolts upright too fast. Her hands shoot forward, staring at them, at her clothes, at the faint stains.
“The blood,” she whispers, voice tiny.
“I cleaned you. Changed your clothes.” I stand, needing to move. I changed my own shirt too—anything to keep her from spiralling again.
“Kaden?” Her eyes shine immediately, tears sliding down her pale skin.
“Still in surgery,” I tell her.
“There was so much blood…” Her voice cracks, her hands begin to tremble. I sit again and take them into mine, grounding her.
“The doctor said it missed the heart and the main arteries.” My voice stays soft, but the shake is there, whether I want it or not. I can’t lose him. He’s my brother.
As if she feels it, Autumn wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me into her. “Oh, Flynn…” she whimpers. “He’s gonna be okay. He’s strong.”
I smile into her neck. Hours ago, she was terrified, but now she’s trying to hold me together.
Fuck… this woman.
She almost died because of me, and she’s still here, hugging me like I’m the one who needs saving.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
She pulls back, frowning. “Sorry? For what?”
My knuckle brushes her cheek. “All the blood. The pain. The fear.”
She gives me the softest smile. “You saved me from a stalker. You took me in. Kaden made me feel safe and… a little annoyed.” She kisses my hand.
“I’d never seen anyone get shot before. All that blood, but I didn’t freeze.
” Her chin lifts with quiet pride. “This wasn’t your fault, Flynn. People are evil.”
I grab her face and crush my mouth to hers. I’m not kissing her to be sweet. I’m kissing her to forget. To drown in her scent. To silence the part of me whispering you could’ve died instead.
It is my fault, and I am evil. Some call me their devil.
She only knows the surface of what I’m capable of and how easily I can end a life without a flicker of regret.
I drag her closer, her legs instinctively parting and wrapping around my waist. She sinks onto me, her ass pressed against the length of my cock, and I groan into her mouth.
“I need to be inside you,” I growl against her lips, my voice scraping low and rough.
Her hands fly to my belt, frantic, desperate, like she needs me just as badly. She unbuckles it with shaking fingers, pulls my zipper down, lifts her hips. I free my cock and grab her waist in both hands, yanking her down as my hips thrust up.
I slam into her in one brutal, claiming thrust.
She screams, high and raw, and her tight heat stretches around me, squeezing me like a vice.
“I need to fuck you hard,” I warn, because my control is hanging by a fucking thread.
She moans instead of answering, her hips meeting mine in needy, messy movements.
I grab her ass and slam her down again. And again. Each thrust harder than the last, hitting deep, so deep her body jolts, a shocked sound breaking from her.
The pain.
The rage.
The fear.
It all funnels into her, into her body, her warmth, her pulse under my hands.
She’s taking all of me so I don’t fall apart.
“Flynn,” she cries, voice breaking on my name.
I rub her clit with one hand, fast circles, relentless, while the other drags her hips up and down my cock. She whimpers with every thrust, every slap of our bodies.
“Tell me to stop,” I rasp against her ear, pressing harder on her clit, grinding into her until her whole body flinches.
“No.” She gasps the word like she’s drowning.
My vision blacks out at the edges.
“Fuck, trouble.”
I stand up in one motion, keeping her impaled on my cock. Her breath stutters. I slam her back into the wall, lift her by her thighs and fuck into her with punishing thrusts.
“Come for me,” I grunt. “Let me see how much you enjoy the pain.”
I bite her neck hard. Hard enough to make her cry out. Her nails dig into my shoulders, but I don’t ease up. I fuck her through the pain, through the tremors building under my hands.
Her walls clench suddenly tight, pulsing, desperate. Her head falls back, eyes rolling white, and she screams my name like a prayer as she shatters.
Her orgasm milks me, pulls at me, rips a groan from my chest as I slam into her one last brutal time and spill inside her, filling her until I’m shaking.
Our breaths rasp in the quiet, sweat beading on my forehead, dripping down her spine, both of us trembling.
A knock shatters the moment.
“Flynn.” Declan’s voice. “Kaden is out of surgery.”
I exhale hard and lower her slowly, keeping her steady as her legs give out. “I need to—” I start, but she grabs my jaw.
“Go.” She whispers it with a kiss against my mouth. “Check on him. I’ll get dressed and meet you there.”
I nod once, zip up and step out, closing the door behind me. Declan and Viviana wait.
“She’s getting dressed,” I say. Viviana nods gently.
“I’ll wait for her.”
We walk toward the clinic. Doctors cluster around Kian and Connor, the smell of antiseptic replacing the metallic stench of blood that clung to us earlier. My heart slams into my ribs like it’s trying to escape.
Please let him be alive.
I stop. I can’t force the question out. So Kian turns, meets my eyes.
“He’s okay.” His voice is steady. “Bullet missed everything vital. He’s gonna make it, mate.”
My body folds, hands braced on my hips as I drag in a shaky breath.
For one horrifying moment… I thought I’d lost him.
The cars arrive one after another, the Keeffes and the Flanaghans spilling out with their small armies in tow.
I stand on the balcony above them, watching every movement, every shift in posture, every flick of unease they try to hide.
The Keeffes can barely mask their nerves; the fear clings to them in waves.
“Funny how the Keeffes look more scared than John,” Kian mutters beside me, eyes darting between the groups.
“Yeah.” The fact that the Flanaghan bastard walks with his spine straight, with no tremor of fear anywhere in him, tells me everything. He ran to the hills during the Dark Wars, hid until it was safe to crawl back, and now he struts here without an ounce of fear.
“Tomorrow the Bratva arrives,” Connor says, leaning on the railing as Declan greets the leaders at the entrance below.
Kian turns to me. “You think he’s planning something?”
I nod once. “Of course he is. This is only the beginning.”
I turn away and walk down the hall, stopping outside the bedroom where Autumn sits with Viviana. When I step inside, they’re seated on the bed, hands in their laps, eyes lifting the moment I enter.
“Don’t leave this room. You hear me?” My gaze locks on Autumn first, then shifts to Viviana.
“You know exactly what’s happening under this roof, better than she does.
Don’t let her step out of this goddamn room, Viviana.
” I try to soften the edge, but it still comes out rough.
It needs to. She understands the danger the moment those families set foot inside.
“We won’t leave,” Viviana says with a nod.
Autumn only watches me, wide worried eyes trying to stay brave for me, for herself, for Kaden. It twists something inside my chest.
I leave without another word. I need my head clear. I need to stay focused for her. For him.
I roll my neck, straighten my black suit, and head downstairs. Kian waits at the bottom, arms crossed, expression smug.
“Declan told you to wait for me, didn’t he?” I stop in front of him.
He grins. “He was afraid you’d walk in and snap John’s neck.”
I shake my head. “And you’d stop me?”
Kian huffs a low laugh. “Fuck no. I’d help.”
We walk toward the office together, not Declan’s usual one, but the one reserved for these meetings.
His meeting office is almost bare, just a massive desk and a single chair.
His chair. The rest of them stand, and he likes it that way.
I do too. Plenty of open space if someone needs to be put down.
Kian opens the door. Silence hits immediately. Declan sits in the lone chair, in a tailored black suit, no tie, hair slicked back, legs crossed in that casual posture that always puts every man on edge. Connor stands beside him, still as a guard dog waiting for a command.
Kian closes the door and moves to stand next to me, shoulders tight, muscles coiling under his shirt. They’re all waiting for me to explode. I won’t. Not yet.
“Flynn, mate.” Christian and Tiernan step forward, gripping my hand in a firm shake and pulling me into a half hug. “Glad to hear Kaden is recovering.”
“He’s a strong bastard.” My gaze settles on Christian and Tiernan. No fear in their eyes. Only clean, honest sorrow and the kind of loyalty men bleed for.
Movement flickers at the edge of my vision. The snake finally slithers forward. Flanaghan, with Doyle shadowing him like a silent blade.
“Yeah, sorry about Kaden.” John extends his hand.
I look him dead in the eye. My shoulders roll back, spine straightening.
Every muscle in my body pulls taut, the kind of quiet tension a man gets right before a fight he hopes becomes lethal.
I take his hand and squeeze hard. He flinches, the tiniest crack in his mask, but he forces himself not to make a sound.
“Yeah,” I murmur, watching his gaze dart away after barely a second. He can’t hold it. Coward.
Doyle stands behind him, expression sharper. His eyes stay on mine. Then he gives the smallest nod; it’s a warning, a confirmation, a shared truth.
Fuck me.
I step back until my shoulders press against the door, grounding myself.
“Why are we here?” John asks Declan.
“Tomorrow night the Bratva and their family arrive. We need to figure all this shit out,” Declan flicks his hand between all of us, “before that.”