Page 61 of The Endless Want

Nadia spots me. She walks forward with a pace too measured to be casual. Her eyes sweep over me, studying every inch of my face, my shoulders, the way I’m holding myself.

“You’ve been strange lately,” she says quietly. “Different.”

I swallow once, twice. “It’s been a hard month.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Her gaze sharpens with something that looks uncomfortably like suspicion. “I think you’re keeping something from us.”

The hair on the back of my neck pricks. “Nadia, I⁠—”

“You’re treating your pregnancy like a secret,” she says suddenly, voice low. “Because the baby is Liam’s?”

Shock slams into me so hard I nearly stumble backward. It’s the same conclusion Declan has jumped to many times over. “No,” I breathe. “No. Absolutely not. Liam and I have never been together. Ever. Not even close. That’s not who we are.”

She blinks, thrown for a moment. “Then why hide it? Why act like you’re ashamed?”

“I’m overwhelmed,” I admit. “And scared. And I don’t know what I’m doing. But I’m not hiding it because of Liam. I would never—ever—betray you like that.”

Nadia’s rigid posture falters, her shoulders sagging a fraction. “I’ve never been jealous before,” she confesses quietly, almost ashamed. “It’s… new. Liam brings it out in me. I struggled with his PA too; she was obsessed with him. I hated it.”

My heart softens. “That makes sense. When you love someone that deeply… everything around them feels like a threat.”

She lets out a long breath. “I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to hurt the people I trust.”

“You’re not hurting me,” I say gently. “You’re scared. We all are.”

Nadia nods slowly, eyes glimmering with apology. “Maybe it’s time you do something about Declan.”

Something inside me twists as she guesses the father right this time—fear, longing, resentment, exhaustion all at once. “I know,” I say softly. “I just… need a plan.”

Her hand squeezes mine. “Whatever you decide, you won’t face it alone.”

I inhale deeply as Ronan calls us to attention.

My ribs still ache. My mind still spirals. And somewhere in all that mess, a future—however uncertain—waits for me to choose it.

But for now, I breathe. I steady myself. I lift my chin and step forward into the training circle.

If I am going to face everything that’s coming—Declan, the Russians, the pregnancy, the alliances, the fractures, the danger—I need to become the woman who survives it.

CHAPTER 18

Declan

The speakeasy has never looked more claustrophobic.

Dim gold lights burn along the mirrored back bar, catching the edges of glass and liquor like fractured sunlight. Jazz seeps from hidden speakers, low and sultry. The room smells faintly of smoke and citrus and money—fresh bills tucked into pockets, passed through palms, exchanged without a word.

The Italians have been clapping themselves on the back for their role in the redesign since the night we opened the doors.

My men are stationed along the walls, sharp-eyed and expressionless. The night should feel like a victory. A step forward. A sign that the Irish are still biting down hard enough to break bone.

Instead, my pulse won’t settle because Ailish is here thanks to an assignment from Liam.

He thinks it’s safer, and while technically I agree, I don’t want her under my roof like this right now.

I see her before she sees me, which is both a blessing and a curse. She’s talking to one of the bartenders—Mira, a small woman with bright eyes and a sharper work ethic than most of the men here. Ailish is dressed professionally, but it doesn’t help. Nothing helps. She still looks like trouble the second she walks into a room. Trouble wrapped in intelligence and stubbornness, and the kind of fire that won’t extinguish even when someone tries to drown it.

I tell myself she’s just here for logistics. That Liam put her on club duty because it’s controlled, contained, safer than running supply checks or moving product or anything with open terrain. And I tell myself it’s temporary.