Chapter 2 - The Scent of Gunpowder and Pine
The mountain air bit into my cheeks like needles as Gavin escorted me out of the grocery store. I hadn’t fought him. What would have been the point? Making a scene in front of sweet, elderly Mrs. Miller would only invite bloodshed to a town that didn't deserve it.
The rear door of the Maybach clicked open before we even reached the curb.
I stopped dead on the damp gravel.
"Get in, Amelia," Gavin said gently, his tone closer to an apology than a command. "It's freezing out here. Think about your health."
"Don't pretend you care about my health," I said, though my teeth were chattering.
Then, a voice cut through the mountain quiet like a serrated blade.
"Leave us, Gavin."
Declan Voss emerged from the shadow of the back seat.
Seeing him after weeks of living like a fugitive felt like a physical blow to the chest. He looked devastatingly handsome, but ravaged by a violence that had nothing to do with street wars. His midnight-dark hair was disheveled, the tailored lines of his black suit looked slightly loose on his wide frame, and deep, bruised hollows shadowed his sharp jawline. There were streaks of silver at his temples that hadn't been there a month ago.
His dark eyes found mine, burning with a mix of feral relief and terrifying, possessive rage.
"Amelia," he breathed, the single word trembling with an emotion a man like Declan Voss should have been incapable of feeling.
He took a step toward me, but I instinctively stepped backward, my heels grinding into the wet gravel. My arms crossed tight over my stomach, shielding the life inside me from the man who ruled Chicago's underworld.
Declan froze instantly. His gaze dropped to my crossed arms, then to the undeniable, rounded curve beneath my oversized knit sweater. The air seemed to leave his lungs in a sharp, choked gasp.
"You're..." He stopped. His fingers twitched at his side, as if desperately wanting to reach out, yet paralyzed by the terror that touching me might cause me to break into dust. "You're carrying my child."
"No," I lied coldly, staring him down with every ounce of courage I had left. "I'm carrying my child. You gave up any right to this baby the second you stood beside Savannah Calloway and announced your future to the world."
A muscle in his jaw ticked violently. "You think that press conference was real?"
"I heard you, Declan!" The shout ripped out of me, shattering the quiet mountain mist. "I was standing outside your office! I had the ultrasound picture in my purse! I came to tell you that you were going to be a father, and I heard you tell Savannah that I was just a civilian—that I would be resolved quietly!"
Declan closed the distance between us so fast I didn't have time to flinch. He didn't grab me violently; instead, his large, calloused hands caught my wrists, holding them with incredible, trembling tenderness. He smelled of high-end sandalwood, bitter black coffee, and the cold tang of a man who lived on the edge of death.
"Resolved meant protected, you stubborn, reckless girl," Declan growled, his voice breaking at the edges. "Savannah’s father planted listening bugs in my private office that morning. The Calloways had hitmen stationed outside your brownstone before you even left your studio. If I had breathed a single syllable that showed you meant everything to me, they would have butchered you before sunset!"
I stared at him, my heart hammering against my ribs, refusing to let his silver tongue dismantle my defenses. "You announced an engagement! You kissed her cheek on national television!"
"To buy time to slaughter them all!" Declan roared, the monstrous boss of Chicago tearing through his polished facade. He let go of my wrists, running a hand furiously through his dark hair, his chest heaving. "I spent the last four weeks executing every Calloway loyalist who ever dared look in your direction! The alliance is dead. The wedding is dead. The Calloway family doesn't exist in Chicago anymore! And you..."
He choked, his dark eyes shining with unshed, furious tears as he looked down at my belly again.
"...you were hiding in a dirt-road mountain town, eating crackers and sleeping above an antique shop, carrying my blood, thinking I traded you for territory."
Before I could reply, the roar of another high-powered engine echoed through the pine-covered valley. Gavin turned sharply, drawing a silenced semi-automatic from beneath his coat.
"Boss," Gavin said grimly. "We’ve got company. Two black SUVs coming up the ridge fast. Calloway’s surviving cousins followed our trail."
Declan’s entire demeanor shifted in a heartbeat. The frantic, desperate lover vanished, replaced instantly by the lethal, cold-blooded kingpin who held Chicago in an iron grip.
May you like
He stepped directly in front of me, shielding my entire body with his broad back, his right hand slipping smoothly into his jacket to pull a heavy, black matte pistol.
"Get in the car, Amelia," Declan commanded, his voice dropping to a deadly, calm purr. "Nobody touches my family."
