9. Declan #3
"Is it?" She turns to me, a smile on her lips that looks utterly false to me.
"Because I don't think it is. I think your men need to understand that if they want to be taken seriously by the other families, they need to act like they belong in this world.
Not like they're playing dress-up. Not that they’re exactly succeeding at that, either. "
Cormac's face goes red. Finn's jaw clenches. Rian looks like he wants to say something but doesn't.
And I'm done.
"Go to your room," I say, my voice deadly calm.
Elena blinks. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Go to your room. Now."
Her eyes widen. "I'm not a child, for you to tell me—"
"Then stop acting like one." I stand, and the men go silent. "You're insulting my men in my house. You're disrespecting the people I trust most, and you're crossing a line."
"I'm simply stating facts, while we’re all here together to discuss the way things have been lately—"
"Go. To. Your. Room."
She tenses, her face flushed with anger. "No."
The word hangs in the air between us, a challenge. A refusal. A line drawn in the sand.
Fine.
I move around the table before she can react. Before she can run or argue or do anything else, I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder.
"Put me down!" She smacks my back with her fists. "Declan, put me down right now!"
I don't respond. I carry her out of the dining room, up the stairs, and down the hallway to her bedroom. She's still fighting, but I'm stronger, and I'm done playing games.
I set her down inside the bedroom and step back before she can slap me.
"You can't do this," she says, her voice shaking with fury. "You can't just—"
"I can, and I am." I step out, close the door, and lock it from the outside. Her fists pound on the wood, and I can hear her yelling, but I don't turn back. I walk away with my heart pounding, full of the sick certainty that I just crossed a line I can't uncross.
But she crossed one first. And I'm not going to let her destroy what I've built.
When I return to the dining room, the men are silent, watching me. Waiting to see what I'll do or say.
I take my seat. "Eat."
For a moment, no one moves. Then Cormac picks up his fork, and the others follow. The meal continues, but the atmosphere has changed. The easy camaraderie is gone, replaced by tension and unspoken questions.
Finally, Finn speaks. "Boss—"
"Don't." I cut him off. "Just... don't."
"She insulted us," Aidan says, his voice hard. "To our faces. In your house."
"I know."
"You can't let that stand," Seamus adds. "The other families will hear about it. They'll think you're weak. That you can't control your own wife."
"I know."
"Then what are you going to do?" Cormac asks, leaning back. He’s been in this world for years, working for Lachlan before me. He knows better than anyone else, even me, what rules govern it.
I look at him—at all of them, these men who've followed me from the motorcycle club to the mafia, or who have gone from one trusted boss to now working for me instead. They’ve trusted me to lead them, putting their lives in my hands.
These men need to know I'm still in control.
"I'll handle it," I say firmly.
"How?" Padraig asks.
"That's between my wife and me."
"With respect, boss," Liam says carefully, "it's not just between you and your wife. It's between you and the organization. If she's undermining you in private, that's one thing. But if she's doing it in front of us—in front of witnesses—that's different. That's a challenge to your authority."
"I know."
"Then you need to do something about it," Aidan says. "Before it gets worse."
I drain my whiskey and pour another. "I said I'll handle it."
The table goes quiet again. But this time, there's doubt in the silence, like they're wondering if I can handle it. If I'm strong enough. If I'm the right man to lead them.
That doubt is more painful than anything Elena said.
"She's adjusting," Finn says finally, his voice softer than the others. "It's only been a couple of weeks. Give her time."
"Time won't fix this," Rian argues. "She thinks she's better than us. She thinks we're beneath her. Time won't change that."
"Maybe not," Cormac says. "But the boss is right. This is between him and his wife. We need to trust him to handle it."
The others nod, but I can see the reservation in their eyes, and the worry that I'm not up to this. That I'm weak.
I do need to do something. I need to show Elena—and my men—that I'm in control. That I'm the boss.
That I won't tolerate disrespect.
The dinner ends early. The men leave with murmured goodbyes and concerned glances.
I clean up, then pour myself another whiskey and stand in the empty dining room trying to figure out what the fuck I'm going to do.
This can't continue. Elena can't keep undermining me. She certainly can't keep insulting my men and treating me and them like we’re not good enough. Privately, between her and me, is bad enough. Now she’s dragging it out into the open, and I can't keep letting her.
I drain the whiskey and set the glass down, then walk upstairs with heavy steps and a heavier heart. Elena's bedroom door is still locked. I can hear her moving around inside. Pacing, probably, working herself into a fury.
A part of me that’s also furious likes the idea of her in here for the past hour or so, working herself into a froth as she wonders what I’m going to do.
She fucking insulted me and good men that I care about.
Men who have been far better partners and friends than she could ever hope to be, from what I’ve seen so far.
And I'm done playing nice.
I unlock the door and step inside. She's standing by the window, her arms crossed, her face flushed with anger. When she sees me, her eyes flash.
"How dare you—"
"Sit down."
"I will not—"
"Sit. Down." My voice is calm, but there’s a note of deadly anger in it.
She sits on the edge of the bed, her hands clenched in her lap. Her chin rises in defiance.
I close the door behind me and lock it, then move closer until I'm standing in front of her, looking down at her and letting her feel the weight of my presence. "You're going to be punished," I say quietly.
Her eyes widen. "What?"
"You heard me." I keep my voice level. "You insulted my men and undermined my authority. You disrespected me in my own house. There are consequences for that."
"You can't—"
“Yes, I can. And I plan to, because this isn't just about you and me anymore, Elena. This is about my organization. My men. My reputation. If I let you get away with what you did tonight, I lose their respect and their trust. I lose everything I've worked for."
Her jaw clenches as points of red flush on her cheekbones. "I don't care—"
"You should. Because if I lose their respect, I lose my position. And if I lose my position, you lose your protection. Your safety. Your life, even, if things go badly enough. You’re smart enough to know what happens when organizations topple.
Your fate is tied to mine now, wife. And it’s time you learned to take that seriously. "
She goes pale.
"So yes," I continue, my voice still calm, despite the anger raging in my chest. "You're going to be punished. And you're going to accept it."