Page 132 of The Endless Want

“I’m here.”

Her lips part with a shaky breath. “Declan… I thought you weren’t going to make it.”

“I will always make it to you.” The confession slips out, raw and unguarded. Her eyes soften in a way that makes my chest ache.

She shifts, and instinctively, my hand goes to her belly. “How’s the baby?”

“Resting,” she whispers. “Like they know we’re safe for a moment.”

I nod, swallowing hard. “I got permission to stay tonight. Just tonight.”

Her face falls, but not with anger—with something smaller. Something hurting. “Of course,” she says softly. “You’re needed.”

I don’t let her retreat into that quiet acceptance. I lean down and press my forehead to hers. “Listen to me. I didn’t want to go. I fought him on it.”

“Declan…”

“I thought I lost you,” I say, voice breaking despite my effort. “And I can’t—I can’t do that again.”

Her hand rises slowly, trembling a bit, and cups my cheek. “I’m right here.”

I lift her hand and press a kiss into her palm. Then another. And then I kiss her lips—slow, deep, full of every fear I’ve carried since she disappeared. She leans into me, fingers curling in my hair, pulling me closer. There’s no desperation this time. No anger. Just relief. Connection. Something fragile and real growing between us like a new pulse.

I reach into my jacket and pull out a small black pager—old-fashioned, outdated, but untraceable. I place it in her hand and curl her fingers around it. “This stays with you,” I tell her. “You press that button, I come running. No matter where I am. No matter what I’m doing. You don’t hesitate.”

Her eyes shine. “Declan…”

“I mean it,” I say, letting my thumb brush her knuckles. “Anything. Anytime. You call, I’m there.”

She squeezes the pager. “What if I need you now?”

“You have me now,” I say softly. “You have me tonight.”

Ailish looks up at me with something that could break a lesser man. “And tomorrow?”

I swallow, because honesty is the only thing she deserves. “Tomorrow,” I say, voice low, “I fight so you and the baby live long enough for me to earn the right to come back.”

She presses her forehead to mine. “Come back, Declan.”

“I will,” I whisper. “I promise you—I’ll always come back.”

CHAPTER 40

Declan

By the time I reach the compound, the sun is bleeding out behind the warehouse roofs, leaving the sky a washed-out purple. My body is still running on the last dregs of whatever got me through the night. I keep having to say it to myself plainly, like a man learning a language: I did not get her out. She got herself out. Some woman I haven’t seen in a year unlocked a door, and Ailish walked through it on legs that could barely hold her, carrying my child, while I stood over a map of the wrong building with five men waiting on my signal.

The drive back feels wrong—my hands empty, the passenger seat empty, everything empty except the promise I left her with.

The compound gates slide open. I step out of the car, and the first thing I see is Conor leaning against the brick wall with his arms folded, looking like he’s been waiting for hours. Mackenzie stands beside him with two coffees in hand. She offers me one wordlessly. I take it, grateful for something to hold onto.

“You look like hell,” Conor says.

“Feel like it,” I mutter.

Mackenzie studies me with those sharp eyes of hers, the ones that see through bullshit like smoke. “She’s alright?”

“For now.” I take a long, bitter swallow. “The baby too.”