Chapter 4 - THE PRICE OF SILENCE
Julian’s eyes twitched.
His grip on Norah’s hair tightened.
Norah whimpered as the roots of her hair pulled agonizingly against her scalp.
“You’re bluffing!” Julian spat.
“Look at the feed,” Declan repeated.
His voice remained steady.
Deadly calm.
Julian glanced down at the glowing phone in his left hand.
The feed on the screen flickered.
The sterile white hospital room was still visible.
The bed was still there.
Clara was still lying beneath the thin white sheet.
But the orderly in gray scrubs was no longer standing beside the IV machine.
He was on the linoleum floor.
Unconscious.
Standing over Clara’s bed was a man in black tactical gear wearing the Hayes family crest on his tactical vest.
The operative looked directly into the security camera.
He gave a crisp, two-finger salute.
Then he lifted Clara gently into his arms, wrapping her in a warm thermal blanket.
Julian’s face drained of every drop of color.
His jaw fell open.
“No,” Julian choked.
“How... how did you find that facility?”
“You bought the Saint Jude recovery ward through a shell company in Delaware,” Declan said.
He took another slow step forward.
Each step was measured.
Like a tiger closing the final distance in tall grass.
“You used Hayes Global logistics routes to ship the medical supplies to that building,” Declan continued.
“Did you really believe I didn't know what was moved through my own freight hubs?”
Julian’s breathing turned ragged.
His hand was shaking violently against Norah’s head.
“Stay back!” Julian shrieked.
“I still have her! I’ll kill her right now!”
“No, you won't,” Declan said.
“Because if you do, Liam will skin you alive while you’re still conscious.”
Liam took half a step forward on Declan’s left.
The sound of Liam’s boots on the grit was like a death toll.
Norah looked at Declan through her tears.
Her vision was blurred.
Her lip throbbed with a dull, sickening heat.
She saw the raw, unrestrained fury behind Declan’s dark eyes.
She had never seen him like this.
In the office, he was always composed.
He was a master of self-control.
Now, he looked ready to tear the world apart with his bare hands.
“Norah,” Declan said softly.
Her name sounded like a promise on his lips.
“Close your eyes.”
Norah closed them.
Declan moved faster than thought.
A suppressed gunshot coughed through the damp air.
Thwack.
The bullet tore clean through Julian’s right shoulder.
The force of the impact spun Julian around.
His pistol clattered to the concrete.
He screamed, clutching his bleeding shoulder as he collapsed to his knees.
Declan crossed the remaining distance in two strides.
He caught Norah by the waist before her trembling knees could buckle.
He pulled her flush against his chest.
His left arm locked around her like an iron band.
Norah buried her face into the crook of his neck.
She was hyperventilating.
She inhaled his scent—expensive sandalwood, rain, and the faint metallic tang of gunpowder.
She couldn't stop shaking.
Declan didn't let go.
He rested his chin lightly against the crown of her head.
For three seconds, he simply held her against his heartbeat.
It was hammering like a war drum.
Then Declan turned his cold gaze down toward Julian.
Julian was writhing on the wet floor, blood pooling beneath his designer jacket.
“You broke her wrist,” Declan stated.
It was not a question.
“Declan... please...” Julian gasped, saliva and blood bubbling on his lips.
“It was business... our fathers had an agreement...”
Declan handed Norah gently to Liam.
“Take her to the car,” Declan ordered.
“Turn on the heat. Give her my jacket.”
“No, Declan,” Norah whispered, clutching his forearm.
Her fingers dug into his dress shirt.
“Don't... don't do this here.”
Declan looked down at her.
His expression softened for a fraction of a second.
He lifted his hand and brushed a stray lock of hair away from her battered cheek.
His thumb was infinitely gentle as it wiped the blood from her lip.
“Go to the car, Norah,” he murmured.
“You’re safe now.”
Liam guided Norah toward the armored Maybach.
Norah climbed into the plush leather interior.
The door shut with a heavy, airtight thud.
The warehouse sounds were instantly muffled.
Outside through the tinted glass, she saw Declan stand over Julian Sterling.
Declan drew back his foot.
He didn't use a gun.
He crushed Julian’s right wrist beneath the heel of his heavy boot.
Even through the soundproof glass of the Maybach, Norah could see Julian’s mouth open in an agonizing scream.
Declan leaned down, grabbed Julian by the collar, and whispered something into his ear.
Julian’s face twisted in sheer, absolute terror.
Then Declan stood up.
He adjusted his cufflinks.
He walked back to the car without looking back.
Liam opened the door.
Declan slid into the seat beside Norah.
He reached over and pulled the wool blanket tighter over her shoulders.
“Drive,” Declan commanded.
The Maybach surged forward, tearing out into the Chicago night.
Norah sat frozen, staring at her lap.
The silence between them was suffocating.
Declan did not speak until the car was three miles away, cruising down Lake Shore Drive.
“Why didn't you tell me, Norah?” he asked quietly.
His voice was thick with suppressed emotion.
Norah didn't look up.
Tears splashed onto the wool blanket.
“Because,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
“Because eight months ago, Julian showed me a document.”
Declan frowned.
“What document?”
Norah turned her head to look at him.
Her eyes were filled with haunting pain.
“It was a contract,” she said.
“A Hayes syndicate hit contract from five years ago.”
She swallowed hard.
May you like
“It had your signature on the bottom, Declan.”
“Ordering the execution of my father.”
