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“Where’s Laura?” My voice broke the tense silence.
Avery swallowed hard, but her grip on the shotgun didn’t waver. “She’s safe,” she stuttered, “and she’s gonna stay that way.”
I nodded slowly, keeping my eyes steady on hers. It was for the best that Laura wasn’t here. Kids complicated things. Besides, the last thing I wanted was her boy to see me put Avery and Laura in their places. I had to take care of them too. Claiming Clover meant claiming them.
“Alright,” I said, pushing up from the porch and raising my hands in a gesture of surrender. I stepped off the porch. “Let’s do this, Avery.”
Avery’s voice had an edge to it, one that hadn’t been there before. “Where’s Clover? Is she safe?”
I let out a short, humorless chuckle. “Clover’s always safe with me.”
But even as I said the words, a pang of unease wormed its way into my gut. The branding . . . it had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, one made in the heat of passion and power. I didn’t regret what I did, but I couldn’t shake the sickening feeling of guilt. The smell of burning flesh, the sight of her wincing in pain—they played on loop in my mind.
Maybe I had gone too far. Maybe . . . No. I shook the thoughts away. I did what I had to do. I marked her as mine, showed her that she belonged to me. If she’d only trusted me, let me take care of her instead of running off . . . maybe things would have been different.
My gaze drifted to the closed door of the house. I just hoped she would come to understand why I did it.
I wouldn’t pretend to be sane or even rational.
But I would take care of what was mine.
“You need to let Clover go, Declan,” Avery demanded, her determined stare not faltering from me. “We’re leaving.”
I shook my head, my stance hardening. “No, you’re not leaving. You’re all under my protection now.”
My words hung in the air for a moment, and then Avery did something I hadn’t quite expected. She lifted the shotgun higher, pointing it squarely at my chest. Her hands were shaking, but there was a determined set to her jaw. “No.”
“Or what, Avery?” I challenged, keeping my voice calm. “You’re going to shoot me?”
She didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. The threat was clear as day.
I let out a scoff, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. “You’re not capable of killing, Avery. You’re not a killer. But I am.”
I hoped my words would unsettle her enough to make her lower the gun. She needed to understand that this wasn’t a game—that lives were at stake, including hers.
Avery’s fingers quivered around the trigger. Her facade of strength was cracking; I could see the fear swimming in her eyes. Taking advantage of her hesitance, I descended the porch steps, each footfall like a death knell in the pregnant silence.
With a swift move, I grabbed the barrel of the gun, feeling the cool metal under my hand. “You need to understand, Avery,” I growled, holding her eyes with mine. “There’s no escape. No running away. Clover’s mine.”
I closed the distance between us, my voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “You can either get with the program or get the hell out of our lives. But Clover isn’t going anywhere.”
The threat was clear—one last chance for Avery to rethink her actions. One last chance for her to realize the danger she was putting herself in.
I looked down at Avery, her fingers trembling on the shotgun. There was fear in her eyes but also a stubborn determination. Her devotion to her sister was evident, and in a way, I respected it.
“Look, Avery,” I began, my voice steady and calm despite the tension between us. “I know you love your sister, and I respect that. But I think you’re looking at things from the wrong angle.”
She scoffed, her grip on the shotgun tightening. “And what angle should I be approaching this from, Declan?”
“The angle where you’re not the center of the world,” I said, meeting her penetrating eyes without flinching. “The angle where Clover has her own needs, her own wants, her own life.”
Avery’s eyes narrowed. “And I suppose you think you’re what she needs?”
“I think,” I replied carefully, “that Clover needs someone who sees her as a person. Someone who can give her what she’s been giving everyone else for years—support, care, a bit of damn peace.”
“Like you?” Avery retorted, her voice dripping with disbelief. “You think you’re the peace-bringer? The protector? Clover texted me. You branded her, Declan!”
“Yes, I did,” I said evenly, not backing down. “And I’d do it again. It was the only way to make her understand.”
