Page 44 of Declan

I’ve felt homicidal rage before. This went far beyond that.

She could’ve died.

Autumn could’ve fucking died.

And where was I? Not at her back.

All of this was a bad idea. When the hell would I learn to listen to my gut when it screamed at me that shit was not right? When would the females in my life be safe? First Juliana and Violet, then my sister, now Autumn.

I was no fucking good.

I should’ve shut this shit down back in Maryland when Autumn first started talking about going after Strotherby. I should’ve delivered her ass to Zane and let him deal with her—maybe even lock her up in a safehouse until we’d dismantled Omni.

Instead, I ignored my intuition and got lost in her. Literally, lost inside of her. I allowed my cock to rule my brain. Night after night for months I’d gone to her, not to talk her out of her crazy plan, not to talk to her, period. No, I’d gone to her to bury my troubles. I’d done the very thing I’d accused Max of doing with Eva.

Taking.

I took and took and took, needing to lose myself for a few hours. Needing only what she could give me.

Peace.

I was fucked.

I rubbed my vest over my tat.

“You okay?” Kyle asked.

“Yep.”

“Brother, I’d believe that if you didn’t look like you were grinding your molars to dust.”

What was there to say to that? Nothing. He knew I was far from okay and he knew I wasn’t going to answer. Why he bothered to ask was beyond me.

“She’s gonna be fine,” he told me softly and I looked away, glancing around the living space.

This place was a shit hole.

“It’s not even as bad as yours.”

“What?”

“Her throat. It’s not deep. I doubt she’ll need stitches. Not like yours.”

I fought the urge to touch the scar on my neck. The reminder that Autumn had saved my life.

“You’re a matching pair.” Kyle smiled and walked around me.

He had no idea how true that statement was.

“Status?” Thad radioed.

“Upstairs is clear, no sign,” Max answered.

“Room off the kit—” Autumn’s call-in was abruptly cut short and I took off running.

Through the open mic I heard rustling then a grunt, and finally a whimper of pain.

“Check in,” I demanded.