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“Shit,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah. Declan will probably be pretty pissed too, since Isabella is technically his kid.”
“See?” Theo says, shaking his head. “You can’t just rush off. We’re also putting Eva and the baby’s lives in danger if we don’t play this carefully.”
My anger only intensifies at this, but I realize he’s right. If we act now, we’re playing straight into Declan’s hands. He’s the one pulling the strings right now, and one wrong move means that he’ll go after the person who means the most to us.
Love is weakness, our father would often say. Right now, it feels like he’s not wrong. Declan has the perfect way to keep us in line. If he thinks we’re coming after him, he won’t even hesitate to use Eva against us.
We need a way to lure Declan out without showing our hand. A way to get him to admit his plans and schemes.
As we sit back, the pulsating rhythm of the music reverberates through the club. I find myself lost in thought, the cacophony of voices and laughter fading into the background. Amid the swirling lights and throngs of people, I can't help but feel a sense of urgency gnawing at my insides.
Thoughts of Declan echo in my mind, each one laden with the weight of our shared history and the danger that lies ahead. I grip the edge of the table, my fingers tracing the grooves of the polished wood as I try to steady my racing thoughts.
The club, once a haven of revelry and celebration, now feels like a battleground, every flicker of light and shadow hiding potential threats. Yet, amid the chaos, there's a sense of clarity that emerges, a determination to confront the looming specter of the man we once considered an uncle head-on.
As I glance around at the sea of faces, I can't help but wonder how many of them are loyal to Declan, how many might be watching our every move. But beneath the façade of revelry, there's an undercurrent of tension, a silent understanding that tonight, alliances will be forged and fates decided.
With a heavy sigh, I tear my gaze away from the crowd, my mind beginning to spin with ideas. We need leverage. Whatever we do, we need to have leverage against Declan, a way to ensure he can’t use our weaknesses against us.
As the night wears on and the music pulses in the background, I find myself lost in contemplation, the threads of an idea slowly coalescing in the recesses of my mind. The club around us fades into a blur, my focus narrowing to a singular point as pieces of the puzzle start to fall into place.
Theo and Oliver’s expressions mirror my intensity, their eyes alight with a shared determination. We've faced adversaries before, but this time feels different, the stakes higher, the danger more palpable.
I take a slow sip of my drink, the liquid burning its way down my throat, a sharp contrast to the cool determination that courses through my veins. With each passing moment, the weight of responsibility settles heavier on my shoulders, but beneath it all, there's a flicker of excitement, a spark of possibility.
Finally, as the music reaches a crescendo and the crowd surges around us, I turn to Theo and Oliver, my voice low but steady.
“I think I've got an idea,” I tell them, the words hanging in the air between us, pregnant with anticipation. “A way to lure Declan out, to get him to show his hand.”
Theo and Oliver exchange a glance, their expressions a blend of curiosity and apprehension. They know as well as I do that the path ahead is fraught with danger, but they're ready to follow wherever it may lead.
38
THEO
My heart pounds in my chest as I approach Eva’s room, bracing myself for the inevitable conversation between us. It’s been a few weeks since her kidnapping, weeks of silence and avoidance, but I can no longer ignore the pull that draws me to her side.
As I knock on the door, her soft voice beckons me inside. Once I step in, I'm met with the sight of Eva sitting by the window, bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sunlight. Her presence fills the space around her.
For a moment, I find myself rooted to the spot, unable to tear my gaze away from her. She's gotten bigger since I last saw her, the baby an obvious presence.
With a steadying breath, I approach her, the distance between us feeling like an insurmountable chasm. But as I draw nearer, something shifts inside me, a glimmer of hope flickering to life in the depths of my soul.
“Eva,” I say, my voice gentle in the quietude of the room, “we need to talk.”
Her eyes land on mine, and I study her for a moment. She looks as though she’s been waiting for this conversation for a while now, and guilt flickers inside me.
“I haven’t seen you around in a while,” she says, her tone neutral, but the accusation still hangs in the air.
“Been busy,” I say, unable to admit that I’ve been avoiding her, even now.
“Did you figure out what you needed?” Eva turns, feet falling to the floor.
“We’re closer than we were,” I say, being careful because I don’t want to get her tangled up in everything going on.
“What did you want to talk about?” Eva asks point blank. “You said you wanted to talk. I’m guessing you didn’t come in here just to chit-chat.”
I realize I’ve been avoiding the very conversation I came in here to have, so I move over to sit at the desk chair at her makeup table and sigh.
