The memory hits sharp and clear: his fist connecting with my face, the certainty of death in that moment before my vision faded. Then, shouting, chaos, and FBI agents flooding the room. The operation moved with military precision—my father in cuffs, evidence secured, the empire I’d spent years investigating finally crumbling.
I lean against a concrete pillar, touching my swollen eye. I press my fingertips against my temple, remembering the blur of activity after my father hit me. Poetic justice, perhaps, that his arrest happened in the same room where he’d terrorized my mother.
My ribs protest as I shift position against the pillar. Each breath reminds me of his final act of violence—a father’s farewell gift to his daughter. The EMT had cleaned the blood from my face with gentle efficiency, his concerned frown deepening as he checked my injuries. “Hospital,” he’d insisted. I’d refused. There wasn’t time, not when everything was finally breaking open.
I remember sitting in the back of the ambulance, the orange shock blanket scratching against my skin. My contact appeared—Agent Rivera—her usual stern expression softened with something like respect. My first question was about Remy and his team. My throat tightens now, remembering those moments of uncertainty. I’d made sure to include Declan, Nolan, and Greyson in my report to the FBI, marking them as allies in the operation. They weren’t criminals—they were trying to save Remy while I confronted my father.
The wait had been excruciating. Every second stretched as Agent Rivera coordinated with her team through her earpiece. Then, through the chaos of emergency vehicles and FBI agents, I caught sight of Declan. His slight nod from across the driveway released the breath I’d been holding since entering my father’s house. Remy was alive.
My legs shake as I remember that moment of relief. Until then, I hadn’t realized how deeply fear had gripped me—fear that my father’s final act would be taking Remy from me. That nod from Declan had broken something inside me. For the first time since this all began, I could breathe.
I hadn’t seen my father since the agents dragged him away. His screams echoed through the mansion’s halls, a fitting end to his reign of terror. When Agent Rivera asked if I wanted to speak with him, my response was immediate. “No.” The word came out flat, final.
The rage that had driven me for so long—through sleepless nights of investigation, through years of building evidence—felthollow now. That burning need for justice that had consumed me since finding my mother’s body had transformed into something else. Not peace exactly, but perhaps the beginning of closure.
One small blessing was that throughout the entire situation, Marcus didn’t think of sending men to kill Terrell Heath in that safehouse Remy and Marcus had sent him to. A slip of the mind allowed the poor man to survive and Agent Rivera to have a key witness with a wealth of information and evidence.
But now? That chapter is closing. The fury fueling my investigation, my determination to expose his trafficking ring, feels distant. Like a wound finally beginning to heal. He is no longer my father—perhaps he never truly was. Just a monster wearing the mask of family, finally stripped bare for the world to see. Movement catches my eye. A tall figure leans against a black car across the street, his stance casual but alert. Declan. Even in the growing darkness, I recognize his military bearing. His presence means news about Remy and my heart stutters in my chest.
I hurry across the street toward Declan, ignoring the protest of my aching ribs. His expression darkens as he takes in my injuries, jaw clenching tight. “Jesus Christ, Eve,” he says, his voice thick with anger. “Your face looks like it met a freight train.”
“Save the concern. Where’s Remy? How is he?”
Declan pushes off the car, his height forcing me to tilt my head up. “Alive. Though Marcus did his best to change that. Multiple bruised ribs, sprained shoulder, several wounds, concussion—”
“Take me to the hospital. Now.” I move toward the passenger door, but Declan’s low laugh stops me.
“Yeah, about that. The stubborn bastard made it exactly twenty minutes at the hospital before trying to break out.” Hecrosses his arms. “Nearly took out two nurses and a security guard trying to get to you.”
“What?” The moment his mind cleared enough to think, he lost his mind. Kept insisting he needed to get to you.” Declan’s mouth twists. “We had to choose between sedating him or moving him somewhere he’d actually stay put. Greyson suggested the safe house.”
“So you just let him leave?” My voice rises with incredulity.
“Let him?” Declan barks out a harsh laugh. “Nolan practically had to tackle him. In the end, it was easier to bring him back to the apartment where we could keep an eye on him. At least there, he has proper medical care without trying to escape every five minutes. I slam my hand against his chest. “Drive. Now.”
“Always so polite, Consoli.” He opens the car door with exaggerated courtesy. “Though I should warn you—he’s going to lose his shit when he sees your face.”
“Just drive the damn car, Declan.”
“He slides behind the wheel, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Yes, ma’am. Though I hope you realize the irony here—you both nearly got yourselves killed trying to protect each other.”
“Shut up and drive.”
“As you wish.” His grin turns wicked. “Though I have to say, you two deserve each other. Equally stubborn, equally reckless—”
“I will shoot you.”
“Now that’s just hurtful.” He starts the engine. “After all we’ve been through together.”
I roll my eyes at Declan’s comment, immediately regretting the movement as pain shoots through my face. "Fuck," I mutter, pressing my fingers against my temple.
“Easy there, warrior princess.” Declan’s tone shifts, genuine concern bleeding through his usual sarcasm. “About earlier—thank you. For making sure the FBI knew we weren’t the bad guys.”
“What, worried about prison orange clashing with your complexion?”
“Always thinking of my fashion choices. I’m touched.” He navigates through evening traffic with practiced ease. “But seriously, you managed to coordinate all this while dealing with Marcus’s betrayal and your father’s threats. Color me impressed.”
I lean back against the leather seat. “I’ve spent years building connections with people who couldn’t be bought. I found the ones with actual integrity, which is a rare commodity in this city. Especially since so many parties are implicated.”
