Page 9

CHAPTER 9

DECLAN

A death threat sits on the kitchen table—a crude drawing of a child with a bullet hole through his head. The message is clear and vicious. I want to tear it apart, burn it, erase its existence, but it's evidence. Evidence that our enemies are closer than we thought.

"What the fuck is this?" I slam my fist on the table, making the cups rattle. Finn stands across from me, arms crossed.

"We found it taped to the front door this morning. We have no clue how they got past security. They know that only family is allowed in, and no alarms tripped at all."

I pace the kitchen, rage building like a storm. "You said this place was secure."

"It is. No one got inside."

"They got close enough to leave this." I stab my finger at the vile note. "They could have walked right in and killed my son."

Finn's eyes narrow. "I'm doing my best, Declan. We can't have armed guards visible on the street without drawing the wrong kind of attention."

"I don't give a fuck about attention. I care about keeping them alive."

"Keep your voice down," Finn warns. "The kid?—"

Too late. Conor appears in the doorway, rubbing sleep from his eyes. My rage explodes when I see him looking at the drawing. He's looking at a death threat, one meant for him.

"What's that?" he asks.

I snatch it, crumpling it into a ball. "Nothing."

Maeve enters behind him, hair still damp from her shower. She takes one look around and knows that something is wrong.

"Conor, go get dressed," she says.

"But—"

"Now."

He walks out, eyes still fixed on my hand crushing the paper. Fuck. I need to get him out of here.

"What happened?" Maeve asks once he's gone.

I hand her the threat. Her face pales as she sees the drawing.

"They came to the house?" Her voice trembles.

"Just to the door. They didn't get inside," Finn assures her.

"That's not fucking good enough," I snap.

Maeve presses her fingers to her temples. "He saw it, Declan. My son saw a picture of himself being killed."

"I'm sorry," I say. "I'll fix this."

"How? By 'chatting' to more Russians?"

I exchange a look with Finn, who clears his throat. "I should go."

When he's gone, I move to touch Maeve, but she steps back.

"Don't."

"Maeve—"

"I can't do this, Declan. I can't have my son living in a place where death threats arrive with the morning paper."

I run a hand through my hair. "What do you want me to do?"

"Leave."

The word hits me like a bullet. "What?"

"Go away. Go back to your fighting or whatever you were doing. You're the reason we're in danger, Declan. You ."

"If I leave, they'll still come for you. They know about Conor now."

"Then we'll disappear. Change our names, move to another country."

"And live in fear forever?"

"We're living in fear now!"

I grab her arms, not rough but firm. "Look, we can't run from this. I need to find who's behind it and end them. That's the only way out."

"So, you just become the murderer your dad wanted you to be all along? Great, fucking perfect."

I flinch.

"I see it in your eyes, Declan. That darkness. The violence you know you can't escape. It is in you, no matter where you go or what you do."

"If that's all you see, then maybe it's true."

She pulls away. "I don't want your protection, the price is too high for you and your son to pay."

"You don't get a choice." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them.

Her eyes flash. "Fuck you. I always have a choice."

"Maeve—"

"Mom?" Conor stands in the doorway again, dressed now. "Are the bad guys coming back?"

Maeve and I both turn to him. I hate the fear in his eyes, hate that I brought this into his life.

"No one's getting past me," I tell him.

"Can you teach me to fight? So, I can also keep mom safe?"

Pride and heartbreak mix into one shattering realization, he is six and ready to fight for his mom, he is my son it is in his DNA to fight.

"Maybe some basic moves," I say. "But your job is to listen to your mom and stay safe."

"I want to be able to help."

"The best help you can give is doing what mom says."

He frowns, unsatisfied with this answer.

Maeve touches his shoulder. "Go eat your breakfast, honey."

When he's gone, she turns back to me. "I need air. I'm going for a walk."

"Not alone."

"I'll take one of Finn's goons with me."

"Maeve..." I reach for her hand. "I'm sorry about what I said. You always have a choice."

She meets my eyes. "Do I?"

She walks away before I can answer.

I go to the kitchen and call Cormac. "We need to end this. Now."

"Working on it," he replies.

"Work faster. They left a wax crayon death threat on my door this morning."

Silence for a beat. "Meet me at Quinn's in an hour. I have things to tell you, in person."

I hang up and stare out the window. Maeve walks in the small garden, one of Finn's men hovering nearby. Her shoulders sag.

I'm losing her. Again.

* * *

Quinn's is nearly empty at this hour. Cormac is waiting at our table, a glass of whiskey already in front of him. Another waits for me.

"That bad?" I ask, sliding in across from him.

"Worse." He pushes a folder toward me. "The Russians are just hired muscle. This is coming from inside."

I open the folder to find surveillance photos of a woman with dark hair. The main shot was taken at our father's funeral, which we all believed she didn't attend. She was hanging back in the distance, watching. It takes me a moment to recognize her.

"Siobhan? Our fucking nut-bag, lunatic sister is behind this? Come on, she hasn’t got the balls."

Cormac nods grimly. "She's been working with the Bratva for months. Promised them access to our distribution networks if they helped her take over."

"Why target me? I've been gone. I don’t even have a stick in this fire."

"You're the wild card. The brother who rejected the family, who walked away clean. She needs to prove you're no threat—either by turning you against me or eliminating you."

"And Maeve? Conor?"

"Leverage. Pressure points." Cormac takes a drink. "Siobhan never forgave me for sending you away instead of her. She wanted out too, but I wouldn't allow it."

"Jesus." I rub my face. "So, all this time... God, she really is mad in the head, we didn't just imagine her craziness."

"She's been planning her move. Dad’s death gave her a perfect shot. I don't think she expected you to come home, I believe her plan was to eventually use Conor to force you to come back." That is sick, but it makes sense.

I down the whiskey in one gulp, welcoming the burn. "I need to stop this, Cormac."

"We will."

"No. I mean right now. This is my family in danger."

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm going to draw her out. Make her come to me."

"That's suicide."

"She's insane, it's not suicide if I know who I am dealing with. Our sister has always been easy to manipulate. She needs her ego stroked."

"You should not provoke her, she's had seven years to stew, and she is bitter as hell. If you push her buttons she’ll flip to full on mental mode."

“I can handle my little sister.”

"You're willing to risk Maeve and Conor in the process?"

I shake my head. "Not a fucking chance. I want them out of Dublin. Tonight. Your house in Kerry."

"That's smart." He signals for another round. "But Siobhan won't show unless she thinks she can get what she wants."

"Then I'll make her believe she can."

We spend the next hour talking. By the time I leave Quinn's, I know what I need to do—and what it might cost me.

The townhouse is quiet when I get home. Maeve is in the living room, a book open on her lap but she’s not reading it.

"Where's Conor?" I ask.

"Upstairs with Finn. They're playing Nintendo. Your brother plays Mario, I find that rather ridiculous." She closes the book. "Did you sort out your violence for the day?"

I ignore the jab and sit across from her. "We're leaving, tonight."

She straightens. "Leaving? To go where?"

"You and Conor are going to Kerry. Cormac's house on the coast."

"Without you?"

"I need to stay and deal with a family problem."

Her eyes narrow. "What aren't you telling me?"

"It's not the Russians behind this. It's my sister, Siobhan."

Maeve's hand flies to her mouth. "Your own sister? She always was a bit loopy, but death threats?"

"Family's complicated." I try for a smile, but it falls flat. "She wants control of the Donovan business. If I am on her side, it's two against Cormac."

"You have other siblings, why don't they side with the mental patient?"

"It's the safest option."

Maeve stands, pacing the room. "Nothing about this is safe, Declan. Nothing."

"I need you to trust me."

"Trust you?" She whirls on me. "You vanish for seven years, show up with violence following you like a shadow, and now you want me to hide away and hope for the best while you face your insane sister alone?" She saw glimpses of how unstable Siobhan was back then, I can only imagine her delusions of grandeur have gotten worse with time.

"I'm trying to protect you!"

"By getting yourself killed?"

"I'm not planning to die, Maeve."

"No one ever plans to." She wraps her arms around herself. "But Donovan’s have a way of ending up dead anyway."

I pull her into my arms, relieved when she doesn't resist. "I survived seven years in fighting cages across Europe. I can handle my baby sister."

"And then what? Say you win, you kill her, end the threat. What comes next?" I don’t plan to kill my sister, I will not stoop to the lowest point this family knows.

I rest my forehead against hers. "Us. If you'll have me."

She pulls back to look at me. "Us? You mean the happy family? You, me, and Conor playing house while you what—go back to cage fighting? Join Cormac in the family business? Have you lost your fucking mind?"

"I don't know yet. But I want to be with you. Both of you."

"What if I don't want you, this, all the violence and death, and fucking crazy sisters? What if I want you - but none of that?"

"I know I will never escape my family." I sigh.

"Pack our bags. We'll go to Kerry." She agrees.

Relief washes through me. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. This isn't forgiveness, Declan. It's survival."

As I turn to go upstairs, she catches my arm. "If you die doing this, I'll never forgive you."

I kiss her hard. "Then I better not die."

* * *

I stand in the doorway of Conor's room, watching him sleep. In a few hours, he'll wake in another strange bed, in another safe house, without me there.

Will he understand? Will he hate me for disappearing from his life a second time? Will I get the chance to explain?

Maeve appears beside me. "He's out cold. All that Nintendo with Finn exhausted him."

"He's amazing, Maeve. You did that. You raised him right."

"I did what I had to do. Don’t you fuck it all up now." She leans against the doorframe. "He's starting to like you, you know."

"Yeah?"

"He asked if you were going to live with us forever."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I didn't know. That it was complicated."

"The grown-up answer for everything." I smile.

She glances at me. "What would you have said?"

"That I want to. That there's nothing I want more."

She turns away. "We should finish packing. Cormac's men will be here soon."

I grab her hand. "Maeve. When this is over?—"

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I'm coming back to you."

She touches my face, her fingers tracing the scar above my eye. "You better."

Two hours later, I watch the car drive away, taking my heart with it. Maeve didn't look back, but Conor waved from the back window until they turned the corner.