Chapter 8 - Recognition in the Dim Light of the Attic Room
Declan rose to his feet with fluid,
coiled strength,
his hand sliding instantly beneath his wet overcoat to grip the heavy steel of a suppressed firearm.
“Gavin,
” Declan commanded without turning around,
his voice like grinding ice in the winter air.
“Secure the perimeter immediately.
Get Mrs.
Whitaker out through the cellar exit.
If anyone from the Calloway crew steps foot on these wooden stairs,
put a bullet between their eyes before they even draw their weapons.
” “Already on it,
boss,
” Gavin replied from the hallway,
his boots retreating quickly down the wooden steps into the dark shop below.
I sat frozen on the iron cot,
my hands clutching my stomach as reality crashed around us with terrifying speed.
They found us.
The quiet mountain town wasn’t safe after all.
Chicago’s violent underworld had followed us across state lines,
wrapped in blood and vengeance.
Declan turned back to me,
his dark eyes fierce and protective.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a heavy,
bulletproof vest,
tossing it gently onto the foot of the iron bed.
“Put that on,
Amelia,
” he ordered,
his tone leaving no room for argument or hesitation.
“I’宁 not putting on a mafia vest,
Declan,
” I snapped back,
anger finally overriding my overwhelming terror.
“This is your war! This is your mess! If you hadn’t brought your criminal empire into my restoration studio,
if you hadn’t played dangerous games with ruthless syndicates,
my baby and I wouldn’t be hiding in a dusty attic in North Carolina!” Declan flinched as if struck by a physical blow across the face.
He closed the remaining distance between us in a single stride,
dropping to his knees once more and pressing his warm palm directly against my trembling stomach.
Declan rose to his feet with fluid,
coiled strength,
his hand sliding instantly beneath his wet overcoat to grip the heavy steel of a suppressed firearm.
“Gavin,
” Declan commanded without turning around,
his voice like grinding ice in the winter air.
“Secure the perimeter immediately.
Get Mrs.
Whitaker out through the cellar exit.
If anyone from the Calloway crew steps foot on these wooden stairs,
put a bullet between their eyes before they even draw their weapons.
” “Already on it,
boss,
” Gavin replied from the hallway,
his boots retreating quickly down the wooden steps into the dark shop below.
I sat frozen on the iron cot,
my hands clutching my stomach as reality crashed around us with terrifying speed.
They found us.
The quiet mountain town wasn’t safe after all.
Chicago’s violent underworld had followed us across state lines,
wrapped in blood and vengeance.
Declan turned back to me,
his dark eyes fierce and protective.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a heavy,
bulletproof vest,
tossing it gently onto the foot of the iron bed.
“Put that on,
Amelia,
” he ordered,
his tone leaving no room for argument or hesitation.
“I’宁 not putting on a mafia vest,
Declan,
” I snapped back,
anger finally overriding my overwhelming terror.
“This is your war! This is your mess! If you hadn’t brought your criminal empire into my restoration studio,
if you hadn’t played dangerous games with ruthless syndicates,
my baby and I wouldn’t be hiding in a dusty attic in North Carolina!” Declan flinched as if struck by a physical blow across the face.
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He closed the remaining distance between us in a single stride,
dropping to his knees once more and pressing his warm palm directly against my trembling stomach.
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