Page 114 of The Endless Want

Declan’s voice hits the walls like thunder, sharp and immediate. Now, though, with the footage of Dara still flickering behind my eyes, it sinks into me differently—how much he feels everything at once.

“Ailish, no. Absolutely not. You’re not going on any recon run.” He steps closer, towering, shoulders squared like he’s preparing to physically block the hallway if he has to.

Liam doesn’t back down. “She’s cleared for it. Medically, strategically, and by our allies.”

Declan looks at her like she’s the airlock to a vacuum. “She’s pregnant and under protection.”

I let out a breath through my nose. “You’re the one who told me I wasn’t helpless.”

“That was before they started dragging out ghosts from Nadia’s past.” He gestures at Mackenzie’s phone. “And before they put a tail resembling you on every damn street corner.”

“Which is why I need to be on this run,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “They need to see that the Italians trust me again. That the Irish trust me again. We need them fully unified for what’s coming.”

“You don’t owe the Italians anything,” he snaps.

“I owe myself something. I need to be useful.”

“You are useful,” he fires back instantly, voice rough. “You’re the reason half the new infrastructure is even functional⁠—”

“I can’t run a war only from a keyboard, Declan.”

Silence stretches for a long beat.

Nadia crosses her arms, watching him with an unreadable expression. Mackenzie waits with one eyebrow raised, clearly giving us the space to burn through this argument before it turns nuclear.

Declan exhales harshly and rakes a hand through his hair. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Maybe,” I say softly. “But it’s still mine to make.”

His jaw flexes, a visible grind of restraint, and something in his eyes flickers—fear, frustration, devotion, something tangled enough to be all three.

Before he can say another word, Mackenzie steps forward.

“Liam already signed off. Ailish goes with me to meet the team lead. Italians are sending Pietro and four grunts. All routine. If he didn’t think it was safe, he wouldn’t allow me with her.”

“Nothing is routine with the Russians after that footage,” Declan growls. “Tell them to pick someone else.”

Mackenzie folds her arms. “Declan. Do you want to undermine her in front of two syndicates? Because that’s what it sounds like.”

He goes still.

Pain flashes through his face, quick but gutting, because he knows she’s right. I can see it hit him—the realization that protecting me too much could destroy me more thoroughly than any threat outside these walls.

When he finally speaks again, his voice is quieter. Rougher.

“I’m going with you.”

“No.” Liam is firm. “You can’t. You’re with me today. Strategy review.”

Declan looks like he might actually put a fist through drywall.

“It’s an order,” he adds. He curses under his breath, something harsh in Irish, something I’ve heard him mutter only when he’s two breaths from losing his grip.

I step closer, touch his wrist lightly—an anchor, a reminder he’s not alone in this. “Declan,” I murmur. “I’ll be alright.”

He looks down at my hand, then at me, like he’s memorizing something important. Like he doesn’t trust the world to keep me intact if he blinks too long. “Promise me you won’t take unnecessary risks.”

“I promise.”