Page 94 of The Endless Want

I zip the suitcase, tug it upright, and take one last look around. The desk. The couch. The kitchen counter where I cried the night the test came back positive. The place where I tried to tell Declan and couldn’t. All of it feels like a chapter I need to close gently, not slam shut.

The baby rolls again. I steady myself. “We’re going to outlive this war,” I whisper. “Both of us.”

With the suitcase handle tight in my grip and Nadia’s little green hat tucked deep in my coat pocket, I step out of the apartment and lock the door behind me.

A new safehouse. A new role. A new life growing inside me.

For the first time in months, I feel the faintest flicker of hope—small, like a match in the dark, but enough to guide me forward. And I walk toward it without looking back.

CHAPTER 29

Declan

Finn’s name lights up on my phone just as I’m finishing the last of the intelligence reports.

The sight hits me harder than I expect. It’s been months since we talked properly—months of stilted texts, missed calls, and unspoken resentments stretching thin between us.

I hesitate before answering, thumb hovering over the screen. Then I swipe.

His voice comes through rough but steady. “You alive, brother?”

A dry laugh escapes me. “Barely. You disappearing to the ends of the earth hasn’t helped.”

“I know,” he says, softer now. “And I’m sorry.”

The apology lodges somewhere behind my ribs. Finn doesn’t say sorry unless he means it. And he wouldn’t be calling unless something in the wind felt wrong. The Russians. Ailish. The baby I only learned existed days ago and already think about every waking moment and every dream.

“How are things?” he asks.

I lean back in my chair, rubbing a hand over my face. “Chaotic. The Russians are tightening their pattern. We’ve lost two hubs, nearly lost one of our own during a recon drop, and the Italians are still twitchy.”

“Twitchy toward you?”

“Toward the situation. But you know how these things go. Everyone’s watching everyone else.”

There’s a small silence. Then Finn says, “And Ailish?”

My throat tightens. “She’s… pregnant.”

A breath leaves him—sharp and startled. “Jesus, Dec.”

“Yeah.” The word falls flat. “And she doesn’t want to see me right now.”

“She’s scared of you?” Finn asks, tone gentle but unflinching.

“No.” I swallow. “Not exactly. She’s scared with me, I think. Which is worse.”

He doesn’t say anything at first. Then, quietly, “You always did love too hard. Hit too hard. Protect too hard. Never half measures.”

“Finn—”

“No, listen.” His tone shifts, warm and solid in a way I haven’t let myself hear in months. “You don’t have to figure it all out in one night. You just have to stop making yourself the villain in a story that hasn’t finished yet.”

A long breath leaves me, shaky and reluctant. “You stood in front of the Rossos for me on four hours’ notice. I never said a word about it after.”

“You weren’t in a state to.” No accusation in it. “I stepped back until you could breathe again, Dec. That was never the same thing as leaving.”

The words cut deeper than I expect. I close my eyes for a moment and let the quiet settle between us, let the years of friendship and brotherhood piece themselves back together in slow, careful stitches.