Chapter 9 - The Reckoning at Midnight
Three months later, the cold Chicago winter had surrendered to the lush, blooming warmth of late spring.
The transition had not been bloodless, but it had been final. Declan had kept every promise he made on that blood-stained penthouse floor. With ruthless efficiency, he had dismantled the Voss syndicate piece by piece, forcing the rival families to sign a historic non-aggression pact brokered by federal authorities who were only too happy to see the Voss crime family exit the shadows forever.
Those who resisted were handed over to the Department of Justice with mountains of undeniable evidence. Those who cooperated were bought out with legitimate commercial contracts.
By the time I reached thirty-six weeks, Voss Tower had been sold to a luxury hotel chain.
We moved four hours north, to a secluded, five-hundred-acre estate nestled along the private shores of Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. Surrounded by dense birch forests and calm, crystal-clear water, the sprawling stone manor was a masterpiece of light, glass, and peace.
There were no snipers on the roof. No biometric airlocks. Just the rustle of wind through the blooming lilacs and the gentle lapping of waves against the wooden dock.
In the sun-drenched conservatory that Declan had custom-built for my art restoration work, I stood before an antique easel, working carefully with a fine brush on an eighteenth-century landscape painting. My belly was vast now, a beautiful, heavy sphere that forced me to lean slightly backward to keep my balance.
Behind me, the glass French doors swung open softly.
Declan walked in, wearing a simple white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms and dark trousers. He had no holstered gun under his arm. His face was unburdened by the dark tension that had haunted him for years, the sharp hollows beneath his eyes replaced by healthy, relaxed skin.
He looked younger. He looked like the man he was always meant to be before the city forced him to become a monster.
He crossed the hardwood floor, wrapping his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder and burying his face in the crook of my neck. His large, warm hands spread across the summit of my swollen belly.
"Doctor Harrison called," Declan murmured, kissing my temple. "He’s arriving in town tomorrow to stay at the guest cottage until delivery."
"You bought a whole cottage just for my obstetrician?" I teased, leaning back into his solid, comforting warmth.
"I bought peace of mind," he countered smoothly, a smile vibrating against my skin. "Our son arrives on his own terms, but I want every medical resource on the continent ready when he does."
Suddenly, a sharp, tight cramp seized my lower back, radiating down through my pelvis with breathtaking intensity.
I gasped, dropping my paintbrush onto the wooden palette.
Declan’s arms tightened instantly, supporting my entire weight before my knees could buckle. "Amelia? What is it?"
"The... the landscape will have to wait," I breathed, clutching his forearms as another wave gripped my abdomen. A warm rush of water trickled down my legs, soaking through my sundress onto the studio floor.
I looked down, then up into Declan’s wide, suddenly terrified eyes.
The mafia boss who had stared down automatic weapons and executed cartel leaders without blinking looked completely, utterly panic-stricken.
"Your water broke," he stammered, his voice jumping an entire octave. "That's—that's water. Gavin! Call Harrison! Call the hospital! Gavin!"
Despite the fierce pain gripping my body, a burst of laughter bubbled out of my chest. "Declan! Breathe! Harrison is already at the guest cottage, remember?"
"Right," Declan said, shaking his head to clear the panic, though his hands trembled as he swept me up into his arms with the same effortless strength he always had. "Right. The cottage. It's time."
May you like
As he carried me out of the studio toward the main bedroom, my fingers curled around the lapel of his linen shirt. For the first time in nine months, there was no fear of black SUVs, no dread of shadowy phone calls, and no running in the dead of night.
We were finally home.
