Excerpt

Kalie

“You may be able to snap your fingers and have people’s sentences set aside in a second. You may be able to dictate law and order between chop houses, strip clubs, bodegas or whatever the hell else the Byrnes and Tiberis have you drafting up legal documentation for this week, but you don’t get to control me. Nor do you get a say when it pertains to my family.” 

He sends an infuriated glare in my direction before wearing a path back and forth in my carpet. “You don’t know who your father’s dealing with.”

“He explained it to me.”

Ignoring my response, he plows on, “The minute your mother starts asking questions, the moment anyone in your family does—”

“They’re smarter than that. I’m smarter than that. I’m so smart,” I sneer, “I’ve known you for a few days, and I can already see this is eating you from the inside out.” 

He recoils back as if I’ve struck him. “You can?”

“Yes!”

He walks over to my couch and grabs a pillow. Holding it to his face, he screams into it, releasing days, months, years of fury. When he finally pulls it away, his face is awash with tears. I approach him, but he steps back. “No.”

I refuse to let him wound me. “Then walk away, Declan. Walk away from me if you don’t want me to care. But it’s too late for that.” 

He completely misunderstands. “You’re damn right I want to get away from them! They’re a bunch of murdering assholes! “

“You don’t want them near me?” Before he can say anything else, I hold up my hand and inform him, “My father told me everything.”

He freezes mid-pace. His head turns slowly, as if it’s about to start spiraling in counter-clockwise like The Exorcist. “Everything? Including about your…”

I lift a finger to his lips and nod. 

His shoulders slump in defeat. 

Stepping back, I clench my fingers behind my head. “I’m giving you some grace. Despite knowing some of my family, you don’t know all of us.”

“I know enough from the stories I’ve heard.” 

I cut him off. “You don’t get it. If the family finds out I knew and didn’t say anything, they’ll never forgive me. That’s not who we are. We shoulder burdens together.”

He let out a shaky exhale. “This isn’t just about your family. This is about drawing a line with people who don’t care who they burn to keep their empire intact.”

My voice doesn’t waver. “Then this time, we’ll be ready if they do. But this time we won’t be blindsided, and we’ll have people we trust at our backs.”

He stares deep into my eyes, then finally admits, “I don’t know how to protect you from this.”

“You don’t have to,” I whisper, my throat tight. “That’s not your job.”

He steps closer, our bodies brushing against one another. “Then why does it feel like it is?” 

I don’t back away. Neither does he. Silence stretches between again, heavy and thick. When Declan finally speaks, his voice is like gravel—worn down, stripped bare. “Why am I dreaming of you?”

His words cause my lips to part on a gasp. But he’s not done. “I dream of you, and when I do, for the first time in years, I sleep.”

My chest feels like it does when I’m entering the stadium after a medal race—like I’m sucking in air because I’m in an emotional chokehold. I can’t say anything because I’m afraid anything I’ll say will be wrong. 

He lifts his hand and brushes his fingers against my cheek. “If you got hurt…”

“I won’t.”

“You don’t know that.” His voice rasps against my nerve endings. He shakes his head, “The man I’ve needed to become isn’t worthy of someone like you.”

“Isn’t that for me to decide?”

His fingers tangle in my hair even as his eyes bore into mine. In them I see regret, guilt, want. Then, his lids droop and when he lifts his gaze to mine, there’s something else there. 

Surrender. 

I lift my chin, my pulse hammering and lay my free hand against his chest. “Declan. Are you yelling at me because you’re angry or because you’re scared?”

“Both,” he rasps. His hands slide out of my hair before they come up to cup my face. His fingers brush under my cheekbones until they rest gently against my jaw. 

I lean in. Our breath mingles together. 

“You’re not the only one scared. 

With that admission, he slides one hand into my hair and wraps the other around my waist. Pulling me up, he stares deep into my eyes as his head dips. My heart goes into overdrive. My breathing becomes ragged as I determine if he wants this—me. 

When his lips touch mine, I willingly accept them. It isn’t soft. It isn’t slow. It’s raw, desperate, and consuming. It’s every emotion Declan’s been holding inside. They reveal the inner storm that Declan has been fighting. His lips are proof that the gods want us to absorb the strength of lightning and thunder and remain standing.