24. Elena
ELENA
I'm alone with Declan, in my childhood bedroom, with my father's body cooling on the floor ten feet away. With Alessio's blood seeping into the Persian rug my mother chose when I was seven years old. The room smells like gunpowder and copper. Like death.
My legs give out.
I don't fall. Declan catches me, his arms strong and steady around my waist. He guides me to the bed, the same bed I've slept in since I was a child, and sits beside me. His hand stays on my back. "Breathe," he says quietly. "Just breathe, Elena."
I try, but the air won't come properly. My chest feels too tight, my throat closing around sobs I can't control anymore. I don't know how to feel. My father manipulated and controlled me. My brother was happy to do the same. But they were also the only family I had left.
They were my family, and they betrayed me. But this man, the one I betrayed… in spite of everything, he's here.
"I'm sorry." The words burst out of me all over again. "I'm so sorry, Declan. I didn't—I couldn't—"
"I know."
"No, you don't." I pull back to look at him, tears streaming down my face.
"You don't know. You think I was working with him, that I was part of this, but I wasn't. I swear I wasn't." The words pour out in a rush as I realize he’s finally listening, and I tell him about what happened the night my father called me to his office.
About the gun he gave me, and the poison, and the choice he offered.
"He made it sound so simple," I whisper, my voice breaking.
"Like it was just a business decision. Like you were just an obstacle to remove. "
Declan's jaw tightens, but he doesn't interrupt.
"I thought about it," I confess, shame burning through me.
It takes everything in me to keep looking at Declan as I speak.
"For days, I thought about it. I told myself it was survival. That I didn't have a choice. That you were just some man I barely knew, and my freedom was worth more than your life. But I also knew how I felt about you. All the things leading up to that point, all the moments we had, all the ways you kept trying… everything was real, Declan. I swear it was. Nothing about it was a lie. My father convinced me that night after dinner, but we’d already slept together by then. I was… I was already falling for you.”
I take a shaky breath. “I fell for you the moment you listened when I asked you to stop that night in the bathroom, when I asked you to pull out. You didn’t argue, and then you went and bought condoms, of all things.
No other man would ever have done that, that I’ve ever known.
You gave me a choice, Declan. No one has ever done that before. "
I look up at him through my tears. "I fell in love with you," I whisper.
"I didn't mean to. I didn't want to. But I did.
And when I stood over you that night with the gun, I couldn't do it.
I physically could not pull that trigger.
I kept telling myself to do it, to pull it, that I was going to do it…
and then you woke up. And I realized too late that I could never have done it. "
“I know that now,” he says, softer this time.
"I came here to tell my father I couldn't go through with it." The words tumble out faster now. "I was going to tell him I loved you. That I wanted to make our marriage work. That I chose you over everything he was offering me."
Declan's hand moves to my face, his thumb brushing away tears.
"But he laughed at me," I continue, my voice shaking.
"He said it didn't matter anymore. That he'd already set his backup plan in motion.
That he was keeping me here as bait, and when you came for me, he'd kill you.
" The memory of my father's cold smile makes me feel sick.
"He locked me in here and posted guards outside.
I was trapped, and all I could think about was that you were going to die because of me.
Because I was stupid enough to think I could stand up to him. "
My voice breaks completely, and I bury my face in my hands, sobbing.
"I destroyed everything," I choke out. "I destroyed us. I know you can't forgive me. I know you can't trust me after what I did. But I need you to know I love you. I love you so much, and I'm so sorry."
For a long moment, there's only silence. Then Declan's arms come around me, pulling me against his chest. One hand cradles the back of my head while the other wraps around my waist, holding me tight.
"I forgive you," he says quietly.
I freeze. "What?"
"I forgive you, Elena." His voice is rough with emotion. "I forgive you. And I love you, too."
I pull back to stare at him, not quite believing what I'm hearing. "How can you—after everything I did—"
"Because I understand." He cups my face in both hands, forcing me to look at him. "I understand what it's like to be trapped by expectations. To feel like you have no choice. To make decisions you hate because you can't see any other way out." He lets out a slow breath. “Lachlan gave me his organization, and every day since then, I’ve been terrified of letting my best friend down. Of failing not only the men he entrusted me with and losing everything he worked for, but of disappointing him. He’s like a brother to me, and every misstep I made, all I could think was that he’d realize he’d chosen the wrong person. Or worse, he’d be forced to come back and take over, and it would ruin his marriage. That I’d ruin my life and his by not being good enough.”
He pauses. “And there’s more, too—things that aren’t entirely mine to talk about.
But I helped Lachlan get his girl back, after her family did terrible things to her.
I know how they can force you into choices that seem impossible, where there are no good options.
Where every choice is a betrayal of someone you love.
I just… I was so angry and betrayed I didn’t think clearly. And Lachlan helped remind me of it."
"But I still—"
“You came here to tell your father no. You chose me, Elena. Even if it took you a little too long to realize it.”
Fresh tears spill down my cheeks. "I thought I'd lost you."
"You didn't lose me." He leans forward, pressing his forehead against mine. "I was hurt and angry. I felt betrayed. But I never stopped loving you, even when I wished I could."
"Declan—"
"I've seen what happens when people waste time, or lose it," he says quietly.
“Lachlan and Adriana lost ten years. I don't want to lose time with you.
I don't want to waste what we have because I'm too stubborn to forgive.
" His hands slide down to my shoulders, cupping around them as he looks into my eyes.
"If you want me, I want you. And I'll choose to trust you. I'll choose to believe in us. Because the alternative is worse than any risk. I love you," he says again. "I love you, Elena. And I'm not letting you go."
Fresh tears roll down my cheeks, and I fall into his arms. "I love you too," I whisper. "I love you so much."
He kisses me, soft and gentle at first, then deeper. His hands move to my waist, pulling me closer, and I go willingly. When we break apart, he smooths his hand over my hair, and I take a deep breath.
“I’m terrified of having children.”
He looks startled. “Elena, you don’t have to explain right now—”
“I want to get this out. While we’re talking about things.” I breathe in and out again. “My mother died having her third child. I was twelve, and she had a hard pregnancy. She bled too much, and she didn’t make it. She—”
Declan's hand tightens on my waist.
"My father told me it was her duty," I say quietly. "That she died doing what she was supposed to do—giving him an heir—and that she failed at that, in the end, because the baby didn’t survive. That she wasn’t strong enough.
No one was allowed to talk about her after that.
And I knew, even then, that one day it would be my duty too.
That I'd be expected to marry someone and have his children, no matter what I wanted. No matter how terrified I was."
My hands are shaking again. Declan takes them in his, holding them steady.
"That's why I panicked," I admit quietly. "That night after the warehouse attack. When we were together. I wanted you to… finish… so badly, but all I could think about was getting pregnant and dying like she did. Leaving behind a child who would grow up without a mother."
"Elena—"
"I know it's part of this life," I say quickly. "I know mafia wives are expected to have children. To produce heirs. And I understand if that's a problem for you. If you need—"
"Stop." His voice is firm but gentle. "Just stop."
I look up at him, my heart pounding.
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," Declan says. "Not for me. Not for anyone."
"But—"
"I took over the Irish mafia from Lachlan," he continues. "He gave it to me. Not because I was his son or his heir, but because he trusted me to lead. Because he believed in me." His green eyes are steady on mine as he speaks.
"I want children," he says honestly. "But not because I need an heir to pass some empire to. I want them because I want a family, one that's ours, not something we're obligated to create."
My breath catches.
"When you're ready," he says. "If you're ever ready. We'll have children then. Not before. And if you're never ready, then we won't. It's your choice, Elena. Your body. Your life."
"You mean that," I whisper. It's not a question. I can see the truth in his eyes, and it feels like a revelation. I’ve never imagined anyone like this. I didn’t know it was possible.
"I mean it." He pulls me closer. "I'm not your father. I'm not going to force you into anything. I'm not going to use you or control you or treat you like property." His hand moves to my face, cupping my cheek.
"You're my wife," he says. "My partner. My equal. And I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you if I have to."
I throw my arms around his neck, holding him tight. He holds me back just as fiercely, his face buried in my hair. "I love you," I whisper against his shoulder. "I love you so much."
"I love you too."
We stay like that for a long moment, wrapped around each other in my childhood bedroom, with death on the floor and blood on the walls, and the wreckage of my old life scattered around us.
But none of that matters, because I have him. And he has me. For the first time in my life, I have a choice, and I chose him.
And he chose me back.