Z

Declan’s mansion became a fortress by noon.

Cars blocked both entrances.

Security doubled.

Men with weapons moved through hallways where I had spent months carrying cleaning supplies.

Everything looked different once you knew where the danger lived.

Mrs. Callahan gave me one of the upstairs guest rooms.

The same room where I had awakened holding Declan’s hand.

I avoided looking at the chair beside the bed.

That lasted approximately thirty seconds.

“Ridiculous,” I muttered.

“Talking to yourself?”

I turned.

Declan stood in the doorway.

“You should knock.”

“It’s my house.”

“It’s my room.”

His eyebrow lifted.

“For now.”

“Then knock for now.”

He knocked on the already-open door.

I glared.

He entered.

“What do you want?”

“To show you something.”

He handed me a folder.

Inside were bank statements.

Dozens.

Names I didn’t recognize.

“What is this?”

“Money recovered from Rourke’s accounts.”

I looked at the totals.

Millions.

“We can return some of it to the women.”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“We’ve identified forty-three so far.”

My throat tightened.

Forty-three.

“How many are still missing?”

“Seven.”

I sat on the bed.

Declan remained standing.

“We’re looking.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“No.”

His agreement surprised me.

Most powerful men hated admitting limits.

Declan seemed to hate pretending they didn’t exist more.

“There’s another thing,” he said.

“What?”

“Your money.”

He placed one page on top.

Sixty-eight thousand dollars.

My payments.

Recovered.

I stared at the figure.

“You found it?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“One of Rourke’s reserve accounts.”

I pushed the folder back.

“I don’t want it.”

Declan frowned.

“It’s yours.”

“No.”

“You earned it.”

“That money came from eighteen months of destroying myself.”

“All the more reason—”

“I said no.”

He watched me.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know what to do with it yet.”

“That’s different from not wanting it.”

I exhaled.

“Fine. I don’t want it today.”

He nodded.

“Fair.”

It irritated me how easily he respected boundaries when I stated them clearly.

I had expected a man like him to bulldoze.

Instead, he listened.

Not always.

But enough.

“What about Patrick?” I asked.

“Still missing.”

“And Vale?”

“Waiting.”

“For what?”

“Me to panic.”

“Are you?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

His gaze sharpened.

“What makes you think that?”

“You haven’t slept.”

Neither had I.

But apparently only one of us was allowed to be observant.

“Lena.”

“You check the windows every time a car passes.”

His expression went blank.

“You moved Ronan outside my door.”

“He volunteered.”

“Ronan looks at me like I’m a tax audit.”

“He likes you.”

“That is terrifying.”

Declan turned away.

I caught his arm.

“Why does Vale care so much?”

He remained silent too long.

“Declan.”

“Because Patrick gave him more than money.”

“What?”

“Information.”

He finally looked at me.

“My routes. My accounts. Names of people who work with me.”

“And?”

“And probably proof of crimes.”

I stared at him.

“You could go to prison.”

“Yes.”

The answer was unnervingly simple.

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Of prison?”

“Of losing everything.”

Something unreadable crossed his face.

“Everything is a broad word.”

My heart beat strangely.

Before I could respond, an alarm sounded downstairs.

Declan’s hand moved toward his weapon.

Ronan shouted from the hall.

“Boss!”

We ran.

A package had been left at the front gate.

Inside was a cellphone.

Nothing else.

It rang while we stood in Declan’s study.

Declan answered on speaker.

“Vale.”

A man laughed softly.

“Still efficient.”

Camden Vale’s voice sounded ordinary.

That frightened me.

“Where’s Patrick?” Declan asked.

“Dead.”

Nobody reacted outwardly.

“Rourke?”

“Alive.”

“For now?”

Vale laughed again.

“For as long as he remains entertaining.”

Declan’s expression hardened.

“What do you want?”

“You know.”

Vale’s voice shifted.

“Miss Mercer.”

I stared at the phone.

Declan stepped between it and me as though Vale could somehow see through the device.

“She isn’t part of this.”

“She became part of it when she opened that file room.”

“I opened it.”

“But she can identify the records.”

“So can six of my men.”

“Yes.”

Vale paused.

“But you don’t care about six of your men the way you care about her.”

Silence.

Every person in the room looked away from us.

Declan didn’t.

“Come to Pier Seventeen tonight,” Vale said.

“Why?”

“Because I’m offering an exchange.”

“What exchange?”

“The original records for Miss Mercer.”

I laughed.

It came out sharp and humorless.

Declan looked at me.

Vale heard.

“Ah. She’s there.”

I stepped closer to the phone.

“My sister refused you.”

Silence.

Then Vale said, “Sophie Mercer was foolish.”

My blood turned cold.

“You knew her?”

“Oh, yes.”

Declan reached for the phone.

I stopped him.

“How?”

Vale sounded pleased.

“Your sister discovered the treatment loan was connected to our other operations. She threatened to report us.”

I stopped breathing.

Sophie had never told me.

Maybe she wanted to protect me.

Or maybe she never had time.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

Vale paused.

“Cancer did what cancer does.”

My eyes closed.

“But after she died, Rourke made the mistake of believing grief had made you compliant.”

His voice became almost amused.

“He didn’t understand stubborn women.”

Declan disconnected the call.

I stared at him.

“I’m going tonight.”

“No.”

“You knew I’d say that.”

“And you knew my answer.”

“The records could free those women.”

“We already have copies.”

“He said original records.”

“He could be lying.”

“He could.”

I moved closer.

“But Sophie tried to expose him.”

Declan’s jaw tightened.

“I am not sacrificing you to finish what your sister started.”

“I’m not asking you to sacrifice me.”

“What exactly do you think walking onto that pier is?”

“A choice.”

His eyes flashed.

“You think choice makes a bullet harmless?”

“No.”

“Then stop pretending bravery means ignoring consequences.”

I stepped even closer.

“And stop pretending protection means you get to decide my life.”

The room went silent.

Ronan stared at the ceiling.

Declan’s voice lowered.

“I won’t hand you over.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“Then what?”

“We make him think you will.”

His expression changed.

Ronan finally looked at me.

I continued.

“Vale already believes I’m your weakness.”

Declan said nothing.

“So let him.”

“That is a terrible plan.”

“Probably.”

“You could be killed.”

“So could you.”

“That’s different.”

“Why?”

His answer came before he could stop it.

“Because losing you would matter.”

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Declan stared at me.

I stared back.

Neither of us could take the words away.

I whispered, “Then make sure you don’t lose me.”

His eyes closed briefly.

When they opened, something had changed.

Not surrender.

Trust.

“Ronan.”

Ronan straightened.

“Yes?”

“Prepare Pier Seventeen.”

He looked between us.

“You’re actually doing this?”

Declan’s gaze remained on mine.

“Yes.”

Then he added quietly:

“But Vale is going to learn something tonight.”

“What?”

Declan reached for my hand.

“Caring about someone doesn’t make a man weak.”

His fingers closed around mine.

“It gives him something worth becoming dangerous for.”