He pauses right near the nylon veil. For a terrifying moment, he places his hand on the back of the iron chair that's too closeto the hidden entrance. A breath escapes me before I can stop it. Declan grips the chair and turns with it, walking it back toward me like nothing happened. He plants it in front of me with a loud scrape, then drops onto it, resting back like he has all the time in the world. Good, I need his time.
His eyes settle on me, cold, ruthless, and unreadable.
"You done?" he asks quietly.
My throat is dry, and all I can taste and smell is blood. "I thought you'd had your fill of watching me bleed." My voice is hoarse, laced with sarcasm and pain. "Or maybe it gets you off. All this. All this control. Makes you feel like God, huh?" His lips twitch, but amusement doesn't reach his eyes.
"You can say all you want, Finn, but I'm not the one who betrayed his family for a woman, an enemy." He spits the last word like it's poison, and I see it plain as day, the disgust, the rage, the power. He hates Gianna not just for what she is, but for what she's done to me.
I scoff at him, and the motion sends lightning through my wounds. The pain nearly knocks the air out of me, but I don't regret it. Every second I keep him talking is a second Gianna is safe. Every word he spews is a thread in the trap we're trying to weave.
"But wanting to start a war that's avoidable isn't betrayal?" I ask.
"Avoidable!" he raises his voice. "They messed with us first. I won't be disrespected like that."
"You think starting a war would affect only you?" I say through gritted teeth, my voice raw and unwavering. "It will affect all the Irish, mess up things they've spent years building. You really want that... just because your ego was bruised?"
"Shut the fuck up, Finn," Declan erupts, shooting to his feet, his voice thunderous and sharp like a whip cracking through the air. The fury radiates from him in waves now. I'm gettingcloser. "All your life," he continues, sneering. "You've acted like you never wanted this life. So, stop acting like you care all of a sudden."
"Cut the bullshit, Declan," I spit the words through the blood in my mouth. "This isn't about me. This is about you, your obsession with power and control. You don't give a shit about anyone but yourself. Liam would have made a better decision for the Irish."
His eyes blaze with unfiltered rage. There it is. I hit a nerve. The nerve I was aiming for. "You think Liam would have been better?" he barks. "Liam was a coward."
I lift my head despite the searing pain riding up my neck. "And yet, the moment he vanished, things started to rot." My voice is quiet but sharp enough to cut.
Declan steps closer, his fist connecting with my jaw. The pain spreads through my face to the rest of my body. A painful gasp escapes me, and I start coughing on the blood in my mouth as a result of my split lips. "I guess you're not beaten enough," he growls. "If your tongue still works."
I laugh, but it tears through me like glass, sharp, hot, and unbearable. Pain grips my chest, but I don't stop. Every word is a blade right now. I need to bleed if it means gutting Declan's ego open.
"What did you think was going to happen, huh?" I croak, dragging each breath through broken ribs. "That I would beg? Plead with you to stop? For mercy?" I laugh, harsh and bitter. "I won't do that, Declan, not even if you carve me open piece by piece."
He freezes just for a second, the air crackles with tension thick enough to choke on. I see his fingers twitch. The way his pupils flare. Rage brews under his skin, looking for something to burn down. "No one respects you. They only follow you because they fear you."
"They should. As you should, Finn," Declan snaps, voice low and sharp. "You must really not care about the Rosso girl if you're running your mouth so well."
"Don't fucking touch her, Declan!" I yell. I don't want him to catch a whiff of what's going on. I need to press harder.
He scoffs, casually checking his knuckles like he's trying to decide if I'm worth the bruises. My eyes travel to the passageway again. I know it must be hard for Gianna to watch, but I have to see this through. Declan will continue to hunt us if I don't get him to say the word, any word that can help us.
"That poison apple managed to escape," he mutters. There's venom in his voice.
He moves to me again, grabbing my torn shirt, the force of it causing pain to radiate through my body.
"You have someone working for you on the inside. Don't you?" he hisses, face inches from mine. I've tolerated a lot from Declan. His lectures. His commands. His threats. But in this moment, everything that's happened these couple of months just turns whatever brotherly bond we had into ash.
"She couldn't have done it on her own," he snarls again, and before I can brace, he slams me into the wall. My head snaps against the wall, white-hot pain flaring behind my eyes. I cough hard, more blood spilling from my chin. I don't even know how I'm still upright anymore. My body is barely hanging on, but my mind... My mind is on Gianna.
Gianna is counting on me.
"Who's working with you?" Declan asks, his hand still fisted in my shirt.
I let out a broken laugh, not because I'm amused, but because I know exactly what he's doing, and exactly what I need to do. "This is what I mean..." I rasp, my eyes barely able to focus. "You don't even know who's working against you... That's how little they think of you. They don't respect you, Declan."
I need him to lose his cool. He has to spiral more. "Who the fuck is it?" he roars, his rage snapping like a whip in the air. He slams me against the wall again, harder this time. My lungs seize, a sharp ache cutting through my ribs like glass. I can't breathe. My vision goes dark around the edges. I blink fast, trying to hold on. No, I can't pass out, not yet.
Finally, Declan releases his hold on me, walking back and forth, his hand on his waist. His jaw tight with frustration. I groan, forcing myself to sit up straighter, to speak louder. "What are you going to do now?" I grit out. "Gianna is gone. You can't start any fucking war."
Declan stops pacing, and the room falls eerily quiet. His gaze settles on me with chilling intent. "You see, my plan was to kill the Rosso girl," he begins with a low but deadly voice. "That would have gotten me what I wanted. The Italians would have retaliated. The war would've started."
