Page 8

CHAPTER 8

MAEVE

I wake to an empty bed, the sheets beside me cold. For a moment, I forget where I am, then it all crashes back—the attack, the safe house, Declan.

Declan, who I slept with last night. Who I let back into my body if not my heart.

I stare at the ceiling, trying to sort through the tangle of emotions. Anger still burns beneath the surface, but a deep relief fills me alongside it. A relief I refuse to name.

The house is deathly quiet as I get dressed. Too quiet. I check Conor's room first—empty. I panic until I hear voices from downstairs—Declan and Conor whispering.

I pause on the stairs to watch them.

Declan butchers’ pancakes in the pan, while Conor sits on the counter chatting about his favorite Nintendo game.

The sight makes my chest ache.

"Mom!" Conor spots me and grins. "Declan makes pancakes with chocolate chips!" They look more like scrambled eggs.

"I see that." I enter the kitchen, avoiding Declan's gaze. "Did you sleep okay?"

"This house makes weird noises."

"Old houses do that," Declan says. "It's just settling."

"Are we going home today?" Conor asks.

I glance at Declan, who shakes his head.

"Not yet," I tell Conor. "The windows need more time to get fixed."

"But I need my stuff for school tomorrow."

I pull out a chair and sit at the counter. "You might miss a few days of school."

His face falls. "But we have the science fair this week."

"I know, honey. I'm sorry."

Declan places a plate of very badly made pancakes in front of each of us.

I know that I need to tell him that Declan is his dad, and I need to do it today—now.

After breakfast, Conor goes to the living room to watch cartoons while Declan and I clean up.

"How do you want to do this?" Declan asks, his voice low.

"I don't know." I rinse a plate with more force than necessary. "How do you tell a six-year-old that his father who was very far away and never coming back is here now?"

"We'll find the right thing to say."

"There is no 'we' yet, Declan." I put down the plate and turn to face him. "One night doesn't magically replace the seven years you vanished."

He steps closer, trapping me between his body and the sink. "Last night wasn't just one night."

"No, it was stress, and fear and bad decisions."

"It was us." He puts his hand on my waist. "It's always been us."

I shove him away, needing space to think clearly. "I can't live like this, hidden away in a safe house. Conor needs to go to school. I need to work. We need our normal life back."

"You think I don't want that?" Declan runs a hand through his hair. "Until my brother deals with the Russians, this is the safest place for you both."

"And then what? You don't have other enemies? Your own family kill one another for sport Declan, there will always be something to hide from. I can't do that."

He has no answer for that. He knows it is the truth.

"I want to go home," I say. "If we can't, then a house in the city, safe but not a prison. Conor needs his routine."

"That's not safe?—"

"I'm not asking." I cross my arms. "Either find us a real house where Conor can have some normalcy, or I'll go home without you, and all this shit."

Declan's jaw tightens, but he nods. "I know a place. My mother's old townhouse in Blackrock. It's under a different name. We can move there today."

A deep relief fills me. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. I'll still be there."

"Fine."

"And you tell Conor today. Before we go."

I nod, feeling sick. "I will."

He reaches for me again, and this time I let him pull me close. His kiss feels soft, nothing like the desperate passion of last night.

"Last night meant something," he says against my lips. "Don't pretend it didn't."

Before I can respond, Conor calls from the living room. "Mom! The WIFI is off!"

"Time to talk to our son," Declan says.

I take a deep breath and follow him into the living room.

Conor sits cross-legged on the floor, flicks the remote trying to get it to connect. He looks up at us. "What?"

I sit on the couch, patting the space beside me. "Come here, honey. We need to talk about something important."

Conor climbs up next to me, eyes darting between Declan and me.

"Remember how you always ask about your dad?" I begin.

He nods.

"I told you he lived far away, and that was true." I take his small hand in mine. "But he didn't know about you. He left before I found out I was pregnant."

Conor's brow furrows. "He didn't want me?"

"No, that's not it," I say quickly. "He didn't know you existed. If he had known, he would have wanted to meet you."

"How do you know?"

I look at Declan, who stands by the door, letting me lead. "Because he's here now, and he does want to know you."

Conor's eyes widen. "Here? Where?"

My throat tightens. "Declan is your dad, Conor."

He stares at Declan.

"You're my dad?" he finally asks.

Declan nods, moving to kneel in front of the couch. "Yes."

"Where were you?"

"I was in different countries. Spain, France, England."

"Why didn't you come see me?"

Declan's eyes meet mine. This is the hardest question.

"He didn't know about you," I repeat. "We lost touch before I found out I was having a baby."

"But why did you go away?" Conor asks Declan directly.

"I had to leave to keep your mom safe," Declan says. "Bad people wanted to hurt me, and they would have hurt her too."

"The Russians?"

"Yes." Declan tells a white lie. "But I'm back now, and I'm not going anywhere."

Conor sits with this, his face scrunched in concentration. "Do we have to live here with you?"

"No."

"Are you going to live with us? At our house?"

I step in. "We're moving to a new house today. Declan will stay there too, for now, to keep us safe."

"Like a bodyguard?"

Declan smiles. "Something like that."

Conor slides off the couch and stands in front of Declan. "Do I have to call you Dad?"

"You can call me whatever you want."

"Okay." Conor nods, decision made. "I'll call you Declan for now."

"Can I watch another show?" Conor asks, already moving back to his spot on the floor.

"Sure," I say.

Declan and I retreat to the kitchen.

"That went well," he says.

"He's in shock. The questions will come later."

"At least he knows now."

I nod, wrapping my arms around myself. "When can we move to the other house?"

"I'll call Finn to set up security, then we can go this afternoon."

"Thank you."

He touches my cheek. "I meant what I said to him. I'm not going anywhere, Maeve."

I wish I could believe him.

* * *

The townhouse in Blackrock is a far cry from the bare-bones safe house. Three stories of red brick and large windows, at the end of a quiet street near the sea. It’s a mansion compared to my council flat.

"Your mother lived here?" I ask as Declan unlocks the front door.

"After she left my father. Before the cancer took her."

The house is dusty but beautiful, with high ceilings and large rooms. Conor runs through the space, claiming the bedroom with the view of the garden. He thinks it’s a castle.

"Security?" I ask quietly.

"Camera’s front and back. Reinforced doors and windows. Finn's men are watching the street."

Not exactly normal, but closer than we were.

I spend the afternoon cleaning while Declan makes calls to his brothers. Conor explores every inch of the house, excited by the adventure of it all.

By evening, the place feels almost homey. I make dinner with groceries Finn's men delivered. We eat at the kitchen table like a normal family.

"Can I go to school tomorrow?" Conor asks.

"Not yet," Declan says before I can answer. "A few more days at home."

Conor pouts but doesn't argue.

After dinner, while Declan helps Conor bathe, I venture outside to the small garden. The evening air feels cool against my skin as I sit on a bench, looking up at the darkening sky.

My phone buzzes with a text from my supervisor at the clinic, asking when I'll be back. I type a vague response about a family emergency.

How long can I keep my life on hold? How long before I lose my job, my apartment, everything I've worked so hard for?

The sound of the door opening interrupts my thoughts. Declan joins me outside, two glasses of wine in hand.

"Conor's asleep," he says, offering me a glass. "Passed out mid-story."

"It's been an overwhelming day for him." I take the wine. "For all of us."

Declan sits beside me, our shoulders nearly touching. "You did well with him today."

"We got lucky. He might wake up tomorrow full of Donovan rage."

"If he does, we'll handle it."

That "we" again. As if we're a team, a unit.

"I need to go back to work soon," I say. "The clinic won't hold my position forever."

"It's not safe yet."

"I can't put my life on permanent hold, Declan. I need to pay my rent, buy food. Conor's school fees."

He looks surprised. "I'll take care of all that."

"I don't want your money."

"It's not just my money. It's for my son too." He takes my hand. "Let me help, Maeve."

I pull away. "I've managed for six years without your help."

"And you did an amazing job. But you don't have to do it alone anymore."

Before I can respond, my phone buzzes again. I pull it out, expecting another text from work.

Instead, it's a picture message from an unknown number. A photo of Conor at school last week, playing in the yard. The text reads.

Pretty boy. Looks just like his father.

My blood turns to ice.

"What is it?" Declan asks.

I show him the phone. His face hardens and I see the monster.

"When did you get this?"

"Just now."

He takes the phone. "They're watching us."

"They took this picture before the attack on my apartment."

"They've been planning this." He stands, scanning the garden like they are there lurking in the ferns. "We need to go back inside."

"Declan—"

"Now, Maeve."

I follow him into the house, fear crawling up my spine. He locks the door, checks the windows, calls Finn.

I stand in the kitchen, mind racing. The threats are real. These people have been watching my son, planning God knows what. All before he even came back, they knew about Conor before he did.

Declan hangs up and turns to me. "Finn's sending more men."

"Who are these people? What do they want?"

"They want me to turn on Cormac, and they think they can do that by hurting you to get to me." He pulls me into his arms. "I won't let them."

I don't resist his embrace. "I'm scared, Declan."

"I know." He kisses the top of my head. "But I'll die before I let anything happen to either of you."

That's what I'm afraid of.

Later, in the darkness of the master bedroom, Declan pulls me against his chest. I listen to his heartbeat.

"Try to sleep," he says. "I'll keep watch."

I am too scared to sleep. I lift my head, finding his mouth in the dark.

He kisses me back, pushing aside the thin fabric of my nightgown as he runs his hand down my body. I climb on top of him, taking control.

He cups my face with his hands and kisses me hard until I can't breathe. I need this—need him—to forget everything else. I work at his boxers with my fingers, pushing them down his hips while he traces a hot path down my body with his mouth.

"Let me see you," he whispers, tugging at my nightgown.

I pull it over my head, tossing it on the floor. He stares at me in the darkness like he's starving. I gasp when he takes my breast in his mouth, arching into him. He sucks hard, grazing my nipple with his teeth just enough to make me moan.

I rock against him, feeling how hard he is. He grips my hips, digging his fingers into my skin.

"Tell me you want me," he demands.

"I want you." Fuck it. I do. No point to lying to him here in the dark.

He flips us, pinning me down. Fuck, I've missed his body on mine. I bite my lip to keep from crying out when he slides a finger inside me, then two.

"Don't hide from me," he says, circling my clit with his thumb. "I want to hear you."

I come against his hand, trembling and desperate for more.

"I need to be inside you," he growls, nudging my thighs wider. "Now."

He thrusts into me hard, and I cry out. "Fuck, Declan!"

"That's it," he mutters against my neck. "Say my name again."

I wrap my legs around his waist, taking him deeper. Our bodies remember each other. I have to bite his shoulder to keep from screaming when he hooks an arm under my knee, changing the angle.

He pulls out, flipping me onto my stomach. He pushes back inside me from behind and I gasp, my mind going blank as he reaches around to touch me with one hand, gripping my hair with the other.

He fucks me hard from behind, each thrust making me gasp. I push back against him, wanting more, needing to forget everything else. Just for now. Just for this moment. He grips my hips, controlling every move as I moan into the pillow.

"Fuck, your pussy feels so good," he groans, gripping my hair tighter. "Tell me you missed this. Tell me you missed my cock."

"Yes," I gasp, unable to lie when he's hitting that spot inside me. "God, Declan, don't stop."

"Declan!" I cry out as I come, my whole body shaking. He thrusts a few more times, groaning as he fills me, then collapses on top of me, both of us breathing hard.