Page 92

DECLAN

E nzo’s voice crackles in my ear, low and emotionless. “I repeat, do not shoot. The drone is showing that the van is rigged to the heavens. Stick to the plan.”

His calm doesn’t soothe the fire tearing through my chest.

Watching this unfold is a special kind of torture.

Charlotte’s tears streak down her cheeks. The pain in her eyes will haunt me for the rest of my life.

Broken. Shattered.

Absolutely heartbroken.

Isabella’s scream cuts through the silence like a blade.

“Mommy! I want my mommy!”

Her voice is so small, so desperate, and it makes a sob catch in my throat.

Charlotte peels our daughter off her neck, every movement a new kind of agony. I step forward, one arm out. The second Isabella’s within reach, I cradle her close, tucking her into my side like I was born to do it.

She fits there like she always belonged. But she was always meant to have her mommy by her side, not just me. This isn’t right.

Her warm tears soak through my shirt as I keep my gun trained on Vlad’s skull.

Charlotte wipes her face and steps backward into the van.

“Good work,” Vlad mutters, then slams the doors shut like he’s closing a coffin.

The last image burned into my brain is her face, twisted in grief and fury and love.

She doesn’t deserve this. She never did. And I’m going to do everything in my power to make this right.

I’ll stick to the plan, for now.

I step back, holding Isabella like the world depends on it. Because it does. She is my world now.

Vlad opens his mouth to say something else, but the sound of tires crunching gravel shuts him up fast. Conan barrels into the scene in an armored truck.

Vlad doesn’t even flinch. He lifts the detonator, calm as ever, like this is a game of poker instead of lives on the line.

“If you try to intercept the car, I’ll blow it up with her in it,” he says, smiling like the devil himself. “I’m always happy to go to hell if I’m dragging her with me.”

My jaw ticks. My finger trembles on the trigger.

“Get Isabella to safety, Declan.” Enzo again. Still calm. Still cold.

But Isabella’s sobs tug me back from the edge.

“You have my word,” I grit out to Vlad.

For now.

Because I’m going to kill him. There’s not a universe where that doesn’t happen.

Vlad hops in the truck and turns the key. Conan rushes toward me, shielding me and Isabella as gravel sprays under the tires.

“This is part of the plan, brother. It will be okay,” Conan says, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder.

I don’t answer. I just hold her tighter.

“I want Mommy,” Isabella cries.

I run my fingers through her soft curls, kissing the crown of her head.

“I’ll get Mommy back, baby girl. I promise. Daddy is going to fix this.”

I open the truck door, heart heavy, chest caving in. She pulls back just slightly, and when I look into her face, it hits me like a freight train.

My eyes. Charlotte’s button nose. That pouty lip quivering with heartbreak. A perfect mix of us.

“You’re really my daddy?” she whispers.

“I am, baby. I am.”

I keep her on my lap as we slide into the truck.

“Who is he?” she asks softly, nodding to Conan.

“That’s your Uncle Conan,” I say.

“I’m the fun one,” he adds with a wink.

A faint smile ghosts across her lips. It wrecks me. I nod to my brother and hold her a little tighter.

All I can think about is Charlotte.

She should be sitting here, not me. I don’t give a fuck if this was how it had to go, I hate every part of it.

And I won’t stop until I make this right.

I slide my phone out of my pocket and pull up Charlotte’s tracking device app. My heart sinks when I see the high heartbeat pulsing in the top corner.

But I watch that little red dot moving, and it gives me hope.

We have her, and we will get her back.