Chapter 12 - THE RIVER OF SHADOWS
The rain began to wash the soot and blood from the industrial docks.
Liam stood at the base of the silo, wiping carbon residue from his sidearm.
Declan descended the iron ladder.
His breathing was steady, but his dark shirt was soaked with rain and sweat.
A shallow cut on his cheekbone trickled crimson down his jaw.
“The perimeter is clear, boss,” Liam reported.
“All thirty hostiles neutralised.”
“Moretti’s safe house in Evanston has already been raided by our secondary team.”
“We recovered your port codes and Thomas Jenkins’s original audit files.”
Declan took a deep breath of the cold river air.
The tension that had wound tightly around his spine for days finally began to loosen.
“And the sister?” Declan asked.
“Clara is resting peacefully in Lake Forest,” Liam said.
“Dr. Henderson says her blood work came back clean this evening.”
“She’s out of the woods, Declan.”
Declan nodded once.
“Burn this place to the ground,” he commanded.
“Leave no trace of the Morettis in this city.”
“Understood.”
Declan walked back to the armored Maybach waiting near the riverbank.
He slid into the back seat.
He leaned his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes.
For the first time in five years, the ghosts of the past were silent.
Thomas Jenkins had been avenged.
The Sterlings were extinct.
The city was secure under Hayes rule.
Yet the only thought in Declan’s mind was the woman waiting for him in the master bedroom of his estate.
He checked his watch.
Three-thirty in the morning.
“Drive,” Declan told his chauffeur.
“Fast.”
Forty minutes later, the Maybach pulled into the gates of the Lake Forest compound.
The guards saluted as the car swept past.
Declan stepped out into the crisp night air.
He took the grand stairs two at a time.
He bypassed his own study.
He walked straight to the second-floor master suite.
He pushed the door open.
The fire in the hearth had burned down to glowing embers of orange and gold.
Norah was sitting upright in bed.
She was wrapped in a thick wool cardigan over a silk nightgown.
Her eyes were wide and dark with worry.
The moment she saw him, she gasped.
She threw back the covers and ran across the room barefoot.
She stopped inches from him, her eyes scanning his body frantically.
She saw the torn sleeve of his shirt.
She saw the blood on his cheek.
“Declan!” she cried out.
Her hands came up, hovering over his chest, afraid to touch him and cause him pain.
“You’re hurt. Oh God, you’re bleeding.”
Declan looked down at her.
The fierce, untamed wildfire in her eyes took his breath away.
She wasn't looking at him with fear.
She was looking at him with pure, unrestrained devotion.
“It isn't my blood, Norah,” Declan whispered.
His voice was hoarse.
“Is it over?” she asked, a tear slipping down her cheek.
“It’s over,” he said.
“Vincente Moretti is dead.”
“Julian is gone.”
“Your father’s name has been cleared with the city archives.”
“And you and Clara are free.”
Norah stared at him.
Her lips trembled.
The nightmare of the past eight months—the beatings, the terror, the blackmail, the midnight weeping—was finally gone.
Drowned in the rain of the Calumet River.
“Free?” she whispered.
“Yes,” Declan said softly.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black velvet folder.
He laid it on the table beside the bed.
“Inside is a passport under your legal name,” Declan explained.
“There is a deed to a villa in Lake Como, Italy.”
“And an offshore trust fund in Zurich with ten million dollars.”
“It’s enough for you and Clara to live in luxury for the rest of your lives.”
“Far away from Chicago.”
“Far away from the mob.”
Declan swallowed hard, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.
“Far away from me.”
Norah looked at the velvet folder.
Then she looked up at Declan.
Her expression turned incredulous.
“You think I want to run away?” she asked.
Declan’s jaw clenched.
“You belong in the light, Norah.”
“I am a killer.”
“I rule an empire built on violence and shadows.”
“You spent three years serving my coffee while I signed death warrants.”
“You deserve a normal life.”
“A safe life.”
Norah took a step closer to him.
Her bare toes brushed against his leather boots.
She reached up and took his face in both of her hands.
Her fingers were warm and firm against his stubbled jaw.
She wiped the drop of dried blood from his cheek with her thumb.
“Declan Hayes,” she said, her voice ringing clear and steady in the quiet room.
“I spent three years watching you protect people who didn't even know your name.”
“I watched you take a bullet tonight to save a girl you barely know.”
“You gave my sister her life back.”
“You gave me my soul back.”
She looked deep into his dark, tortured eyes.
“Do you really think any man in Italy could ever hold a candle to you?”
Declan’s breath caught in his throat.
His heart slammed against his ribs with the force of a battering ram.
“Norah...”
“I don't want a safe life with a stranger, Declan,” she whispered.
She rose up on her tiptoes.
May you like
Her lips were a millimeter from his.
“I want you.”
