Page 13

CHAPTER 13

DECLAN

"W hat do you mean she's gone?" I rip the IV from my arm, ignoring the nurse's protests. "Where the fuck is she?"

Finn stands by the hospital room door, face tight with concern. "She said she was going shopping for clothes for you. That was five hours ago."

"And you let her go alone?"

"She insisted. I thought?—"

"You didn't think." I grab my clothes from the cabinet, wincing as pain shoots through my shoulder. The stitches pull as I struggle to get my shirt on. "Call Jack. Make sure Conor's safe."

Finn's phone is already at his ear. He turns away, speaking in low tones. The worry on his face when he turns back makes my blood run cold.

"Jack moved Conor from the Kerry house an hour ago. Maeve called him, told him to get out."

"Why?"

Finn shows me his phone. A photo of my son in what looks like a panic room. The message below it makes my stomach drop: Nowhere is safe .

"There was another photo before this," Finn says, swiping to show me Conor asleep in his bed. "Maeve got it last night but didn't tell you."

Rage and fear mix in my gut, a toxic combination that makes me want to tear the world apart. "Where are they now?"

"Jack took Conor to a hotel in Killarney. Cormac's men are with them."

I grab my jacket. "Find Maeve. Check her phone records, credit cards, anything."

"Already on it." Finn holds up his phone again. "GPS shows her car in Temple Bar."

"Temple Bar?" That makes no sense. Why would she go to the busiest tourist trap in Dublin?

"Specifically, parked outside The Red Star."

Ice floods my veins. "Andrei Petrov's club."

"You think she's meeting him?"

"I think she's trying to fix this herself." I push past Finn toward the door. "And she's going to get herself killed."

The doctor tries to block my path. "Mr. Donovan, you can't leave. The infection?—"

"Try to stop me." I stare him down until he steps aside.

In Finn's car, I check my gun—fully loaded. The wound in my shoulder throbs, but adrenaline pushes the pain away. All I can think about is Maeve walking into Petrov's lair alone. What is she thinking?

"Petrov's Siobhan's lover," I tell Finn as he speeds through Dublin. "He'll want revenge for what happened to her."

"How would Maeve know about him?"

"Someone told her." My jaw clenches. "And when I find out who, they're dead."

We pull up two blocks from The Red Star. The neon sign glows red even in daytime, the front windows blacked out. Two burly men guard the entrance.

"How do you want to play this?" Finn asks.

"Front door. No subtlety."

"You sure? You can barely lift your arm."

"I don't need two arms to kill someone."

I approach the guards, not bothering to hide my weapon. They straighten when they see me coming.

"Club's closed," the taller one says, his Russian accent thick.

"I'm here for Maeve Brennan."

Their faces remain blank. "No women here."

"Wrong answer." I press my gun into the first guard's stomach. "Try again."

The second guard reaches for his weapon. Finn steps forward, his own gun already drawn. "Bad idea, friend."

A tense moment passes before the first guard nods. "Inside. Boss is expecting you."

The interior of The Red Star is all red velvet and low lighting, even at midday. The place stinks of stale cigarettes and cheap perfume. A few men sit at the bar, watching us with hard eyes.

Petrov waits at a booth in the back, a drink in hand. No sign of Maeve.

"Donovan." He gestures to the seat across from him. "Join me."

"Where is she?"

"Your woman? She left thirty minutes ago."

I keep my gun trained on him. "If you're lying?—"

"Why would I lie? She came, we talked, she left. Simple business."

"What did she want?"

Petrov smiles, revealing a gold tooth. "To make a deal. For her son's safety." He sips his drink. "A mother's love is touching, no?"

I step closer. "What deal?"

"She offered herself as... what is the word? Mediator. Between me and Cormac." His smile widens. "Smart woman. Knows I need new connections now that Siobhan is, how do you say, out of picture."

"And you agreed?"

"I did not agree to anything. I said I would consider her offer."

Something's wrong. This is too neat, too easy. "Where did she go?"

"She did not say. Home, perhaps?" He shrugs. "Or maybe to collect your boy. Insurance, you understand."

I understand now. "You're using her to get to Conor."

Petrov's smile vanishes. "Siobhan was mine. Now she rots in some nutty-house. An eye for an eye, as Americans say."

I lunge across the table, grabbing him by the throat. Pain tears through my shoulder but I ignore it, squeezing until his face turns purple.

"Tell me where she went, or I'll tear your fucking throat out."

Finn's voice cuts through my rage. "Declan. We need him alive to talk."

I loosen my grip slightly. Petrov gasps, coughing.

"Talk," I growl.

"She... went to get the boy." He wheezes. "Bring him to me as... good faith."

"You're lying. She'd never do that."

"Not... willingly." He pulls his collar aside to show me a phone. On the screen, a man stands behind Maeve, a gun to her head. "My associate accompanies her."

Fury blinds me. I slam Petrov's head against the table. "Address. Now."

He spits blood. "Kill me, you never find them."

"I won't kill you." I press my gun under his chin. "I'll just make you wish I had."

Ten minutes later, we're back in Finn's car, speeding toward Killarney. I can't stop thinking about Maeve with a gun to her head, forced to lead these fuckers to our son.

"Call Jack," I tell Finn. "Warn him."

Finn tries, cursing when there's no answer. "Straight to voicemail."

"Try Cormac."

Cormac answers on the first ring. "Where the hell are you? The hospital called?—"

"Petrov has Maeve. She's leading them to Conor."

Silence, then, "Where?"

"Hotel in Killarney. Jack took him there. He is not answering."

"I'm sending everyone I've got. Two hours out."

"We'll be there in ninety minutes."

"Declan." Cormac's voice drops. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Too late."

I hang up and call Jack again. Still nothing. "This is my fault," I mutter.

Finn glances at me. "Don't start that shit now."

"I should have let Cormac kill Siobhan. My fucking sister puts a gun to Maeve's head, threatens my kid, and I still tried to save her worthless life."

"You tried to break the cycle. That's not wrong."

"Tell that to Maeve and Conor." I slam my fist against the dashboard. "Family loyalty. What a fucking joke."

"It is if it gets my family killed."

The wound in my shoulder bleeds through my shirt, the pain a constant reminder of my failure to protect them. I deserved that bullet. They don't deserve any of this.

My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number. A video message. I open it with shaking hands.

Maeve's face fills the screen, a bruise darkening her cheek. "Declan. I'm sorry. They caught me leaving the club." Her voice trembles. "They want me to take them to Conor. I told them I don't know where Jack took him." The camera shifts to show a man's hand gripping her hair. "They don't believe me."

The video cuts off.

"Drive faster," I tell Finn.

"I'm already doing ninety."

"Then do a hundred."

We make it to Killarney in record time. The hotel Jack mentioned is a small place on the outskirts of town, discreet enough to hide but public enough not to attract attention.

Jack's car is in the parking lot, alongside a black SUV I don't recognize. No sign of a struggle outside.

"Room number?" I ask Finn.

"Jack didn't say."

I scan the building. Three floors, maybe thirty rooms total. "We split up. You take the ground floor, I'll start at the top."

Finn grabs my arm. "You can barely stand, Declan. Let me?—"

"My family. My responsibility." I check my gun. "Just watch my back."

We enter through a side door, avoiding the front desk. The hotel is quiet, most guests out enjoying the day. I take the stairs to the third floor, each step sending pain shooting through my body.

I move down the hallway, listening at each door. Nothing unusual until I reach the end—room 312. Voices inside, one of them a child. Conor.

I text Finn the room number and draw my gun. No time to wait for him. Not with my son in danger.

I kick the door in, gun raised. I freeze the minute I look inside.

Maeve stands by the window, her face bruised but defiant. Conor is on the bed, Jack's body on the floor in front of him, a pool of blood spreading from a head wound. Two men I don't recognize have guns drawn—one aimed at Maeve, one at Conor.

"Daddy!" Conor's cry breaks the silence.

The man pointing his gun at my son turns toward me. I fire twice, hitting him in the chest. He crumples to the floor.

The second man grabs Maeve, using her as a shield. "Drop the gun or she dies."

I keep my weapon trained on him, looking for a clear shot. "Let her go."

"No chance, Donovan." He backs toward the bathroom, dragging Maeve with him. "I'm walking out of here with her, or she's not walking out at all."

"Declan," Maeve says, her voice surprisingly calm. "Get Conor out."

"Not without you."

"He's what matters." Her eyes hold mine. "Take him and go."

The man tightens his grip on her throat. "Enough talking. Drop the gun."

I lower my weapon slightly, like I'm considering it. "Let her go, and you can walk out of here. You have my word."

He laughs. "Your word of a Donovan? Worth less than nothing."

Maeve's eyes flick to the right, then back to me. The bathroom. She's telling me something.

"Fine," I say, kneeling to place my gun on the floor. "Just don't hurt her."

The man relaxes slightly, his grip on Maeve loosening. It's all the opening she needs.

She slams her elbow into his ribs, then drops to the floor. I lunge for my gun, firing as the man raises his weapon. The bullet catches him in the shoulder. He stumbles back but stays on his feet, gun still aimed at Maeve.

Another shot rings out—not mine. The man falls, a bullet hole in his forehead.

Finn stands in the doorway, gun still raised. "Got him."

I rush to Maeve, pulling her into my arms, ignoring the pain in my arm. "Are you hurt?"

She shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. "Conor?—"

I turn to find our son still on the bed, eyes wide with shock. There's blood on his shirt—Jack's blood. I scoop him up with my good arm, holding him tight.

"It's over," I tell them both. "It's over."

Conor clings to me, his small body shaking. "The bad men hurt Jack."

"I know, buddy." I smooth his hair, meeting Maeve's eyes over his head. "But they can't hurt anyone else now."

Sirens wail in the distance. Finn moves to the window. "Police. We need to get our story straight. Or get out fast."

Maeve sits on the bed, pulling Conor into her lap. "Tell them the truth. These men broke in, killed Jack, threatened us. Declan and you saved us."

"And Petrov?" I ask.

"Leave him out of it. For now." She kisses the top of Conor's head. "This is a police matter, not a Donovan vendetta."

I want to argue but know she's right. Bringing the Donovan name into this will only complicate things. And right now, all that matters is getting my family somewhere safe.

"Finn, handle the police. We're taking Conor to the car."

Maeve wraps Conor in a blanket, covering the blood on his clothes. I lead them out through the back exit, away from the approaching sirens.

In the car, Conor falls asleep quickly, exhaustion and trauma taking their toll. I watch him in the rearview mirror, his face peaceful.

"Why didn't you tell me about the threats?" I ask Maeve.

She stares out the window. "You were already injured. I thought I could handle it."

"By offering yourself to Petrov? Were you out of your mind?"

"I was trying to protect our son."

"By getting yourself killed?"

She turns to face me, eyes flashing. "I did what I had to do. Just like you would have."

"That's different."

"How? Because you're a Donovan? Because violence is your birthright?"

I grip the steering wheel tighter. "I know these people, Maeve. I know what they're capable of."

"So do I now." She touches the bruise on her face. "I learned the hard way."

My anger deflates, replaced by guilt. "I'm sorry. For all of this."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. I should have let Cormac handle Siobhan his way. I tried to be better than my father, and it almost got you both killed."

She's quiet for a long moment. "You are better than him, Declan. You always were."

I reach for her hand, needing her touch. "I can't lose you. Either of you."

"You won't." She squeezes my hand. "But we can't live like this. Looking over our shoulders, waiting for the next crazy person."

"I know."

"Conor saw Jack die today. He saw you kill a man." Her voice breaks. "No child should see that. We stole his innocence today, Declan."

I glance at our sleeping son in the backseat. Already touched by the violence I swore would never reach him.

"We'll figure it out," I promise her. "Somewhere new. Somewhere safe."

"Is there such a place for a Donovan?"

I have no idea if there is. I drive through the darkness, heading toward Cormac's compound outside Dublin. It's not a permanent solution, but it's secure enough for tonight.

Tomorrow, I'll deal with Petrov. I'll end this threat once and for all.

And then I'll find a way to give my family the life they deserve—even if it means walking away forever.