Declan wanted to move me immediately.
I refused.
“No.”
“Amelia—”
“You promised I decide.”
“That was before someone confirmed the pregnancy.”
“Then your promise lasted four hours.”
His jaw tightened.
Gavin wisely left the room.
Declan paced toward the window.
“This property is secure, but not against an organized assault.”
“You said nobody knew about it.”
“Someone knew you were in that grocery store.”
“Because you brought a convoy into town.”
“I brought three vehicles.”
“That’s a convoy in North Carolina.”
He turned.
“You think I led them to you?”
“I think wherever you go, danger follows.”
The words hit him.
I saw it.
He didn’t deny them.
Instead, he walked to the opposite side of the room and sat.
“What do you want?”
That question surprised me.
“I want the truth.”
“You have it.”
“No. I have pieces.”
I crossed my arms.
“I want everything.”
Declan studied me.
Then he nodded.
“All right.”
For the next hour, the most guarded man I had ever known opened doors he had spent his entire life keeping closed.
His father had built the Voss organization through fear.
Declan had inherited it at twenty-seven after his father was killed.
He spent the next decade turning large portions of the operation legitimate while keeping enough influence over Chicago’s criminal world that nobody could simply replace him.
Malcolm Calloway hated that.
Calloway believed Declan was weakening the old order.
Savannah’s proposed marriage was supposed to bind the families.
Declan had agreed only after Malcolm threatened me.
“What happens if you refuse now?” I asked.
“War.”
“That simple?”
“No. That ugly.”
I sat slowly.
“And the baby?”
Declan looked toward my stomach.
“A child changes succession.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If I die without an acknowledged heir, my holdings fracture. Some legitimate assets go to trusts. Influence gets divided among senior people.”
“And with a child?”
“My estate passes largely to my child.”
My blood went cold.
“So our baby is valuable.”
“To them.”
“To you?”
His eyes snapped to mine.
“No.”
I waited.
Declan moved closer but stopped several feet away.
“To me, this baby is valuable because it’s ours.”
Something inside me softened.
I hated how easily he could still reach that place.
He continued.
“If I could sign away every dollar tonight and guarantee you both a normal life, I would.”
“Would you?”
“Yes.”
I believed him.
That frightened me too.
Because hating Declan would have been easier if he had betrayed me for power.
Instead, he had made a catastrophic decision because he loved me badly.
That was harder.
By morning, we moved.
Not to Chicago.
To a secluded house belonging to June’s brother in Tennessee.
Declan reduced his security presence to two men at my request.
June came with us.
She walked into the house, took one look at Declan, and said, “You’re taller than television makes you look.”
Declan blinked.
June pointed at him.
“And if you make that girl cry, I have a cast-iron skillet older than you.”
“Understood.”
I nearly choked.
June liked him slightly more after that.
Over the next week, our strange temporary life settled into something almost normal.
Declan took calls from Chicago in the study.
I restored an old landscape June’s brother had stored in the attic.
At night, we ate together.
Declan slept in another room.
He never touched me without asking.
That mattered.
One afternoon, I was sitting on the porch when the baby kicked hard.
I gasped.
Declan came through the door instantly.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“You made a sound.”
“The baby kicked.”
He stopped.
His eyes dropped.
“Oh.”
I almost smiled.
“Do you want to feel?”
The question surprised both of us.
Declan approached slowly.
I took his hand.
For a man whose name frightened Chicago, his fingers trembled.
I placed his palm against my stomach.
Nothing happened.
He waited.
Still nothing.
“Maybe—”
The baby kicked.
Declan froze.
Then another kick.
His face changed completely.
Wonder.
Pure, unguarded wonder.
“That was—”
“Your child kicking me in the ribs.”
A laugh escaped him.
I hadn’t heard Declan laugh like that in months.
Maybe ever.
He crouched in front of me.
“Hey.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Are you talking to my stomach?”
“Yes.”
“You realize the baby can’t understand you.”
“Neither do most of my board members.”
I laughed.
His expression softened.
Then he looked up at me.
“I’m sorry.”
“For the board members?”
“For all of it.”
The laughter disappeared.
Declan kept his hand against my stomach.
“I should have told you about Malcolm. I should have trusted you. I should never have treated your life like something I could arrange.”
I swallowed.
“You scared me.”
“I know.”
“I heard ‘resolved’ and thought...”
My voice failed.
Declan closed his eyes.
“I know what that word means in my world.”
“Then why use it?”
“Because I was talking like the man my father trained me to be.”
He opened his eyes.
“And I lost the woman I wanted to become better for.”
Before I could answer, Gavin appeared in the doorway.
“We have a problem.”
Declan stood.
“What?”
“Savannah wants to meet Amelia.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because Savannah Calloway does nothing without a reason.”
Gavin handed him a phone.
There was a recorded message.
Savannah’s voice filled the porch.
“Amelia, Declan thinks my father is hunting you. He’s wrong. If you want to know who actually ordered the shooting in North Carolina, meet me without him.”
Declan shut off the recording.
“No.”
I stared at him.
“You don’t get to decide.”
“She could be bait.”
“She could also know something.”
“Then Gavin can question her.”
Savannah’s message continued when I pressed play.
“And before Declan convinces you I’m the villain, ask him what happened to his mother.”
Declan’s face changed.
I looked at him.
“What happened to your mother?”
“Nothing relevant.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He walked away.
That told me Savannah had hit something real.
I followed.
“Declan.”
“Not now.”
“You demanded every detail about my pregnancy the minute you found me.”
He stopped.
“That’s different.”
“No, it isn’t.”
His shoulders lowered.
“My mother died when I was eleven.”
“How?”
He was silent.
“Declan?”
“My father was warned someone was coming after the family. He moved us to a safe house.”
My stomach tightened.
“He didn’t tell her why?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“She tried to leave.”
I knew before he finished.
“There was a bomb in her car.”
Declan looked out the window.
“My father spent the rest of his life telling me she died because he failed to protect her.”
I understood then.
The walls.
The secrecy.
The instinct to decide for me.
“You became him.”
Declan flinched.
“I know.”
I touched my stomach.
“And you almost lost me because of it.”
“Yes.”
That evening, I made a decision.
I would meet Savannah.
Not alone.
Not truly.
Gavin arranged surveillance at a roadside chapel thirty miles away.
Declan hated every second.
Savannah arrived without visible security.
She wore jeans and a black coat.
Without cameras and pearls, she looked younger.
Tired.
She sat across from me.
“So,” she said, glancing at my belly, “that explains why Declan threatened to burn Chicago down.”
“Did you order the shooting?”
“No.”
“Did your father?”
“I don’t think so.”
“That’s reassuring.”
Savannah almost smiled.
“You hate me.”
“I don’t know you.”
“Smart answer.”
She slid an envelope across the table.
Inside were financial records.
Payments.
Large ones.
“What am I looking at?”
“Someone inside Declan’s organization has been feeding information to my father for two years.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why give me this?”
“Because the last payment wasn’t from my father.”
I looked at the transfer.
The destination was hidden behind a shell company.
Savannah leaned closer.
“Someone paid Eric Vale to find you before my father even knew you were pregnant.”
My mouth went dry.
“Why?”
“I think someone wants Declan to believe the Calloways are responsible.”
“For what?”
“For killing you.”
I stared at her.
Savannah lowered her voice.
“And once Declan retaliates against my father, Chicago burns.”
A movement outside caught my eye.
Gavin’s men shifted.
Then the chapel lights died.
Savannah stood.
“Oh, hell.”
Glass shattered.
A man entered through the side door.
I backed away.
Savannah grabbed my arm.
“Move!”
We ran toward the sacristy.
Outside, engines roared.
Then I heard gunfire.
Declan appeared through the front entrance with Gavin behind him.
“Amelia!”
“I’m here!”
The attacker raised his weapon.
Declan fired first.
The man dropped.
Silence crashed over the chapel.
Declan reached me and checked my face, arms, stomach.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
Savannah leaned against a pew.
“Touching reunion. We have a bigger problem.”
Gavin pulled the attacker’s mask away.
His expression changed.
Declan looked down.
I recognized the man from photographs in Voss Tower.
Someone who had stood behind Declan at charity events.
Someone he trusted.
“Who is that?” I whispered.
Declan’s voice was cold.
“Daniel Mercer.”
Gavin stared at the body.
“My deputy.”
Savannah looked at Declan.
“Your traitor isn’t inside the organization.”
She glanced at Gavin.
“He’s inside your security command.”
And Gavin’s face told me something worse.
Daniel Mercer had known every safe house Declan owned.
Including the one where we had slept the night before.