Page 29 of The Endless Want

He's shaking.

CHAPTER 9

Declan

Ailish keeps pace beside me, her hand still in mine, her breath a little too fast even though she’s trying to hide it.

She’s been doing that—trying to appear unshaken—for as long as I’ve known her. Every few steps I glance over, checking her, making sure the shadows behind us stay empty.

They marked her car and gave her three days to feel it. Then they put two people on her, and one of them let herself be seen in a shop window. None of that is how you take someone. That's how you make sure the taking looks like a choice she made.

Take her down, and the Irish will tear themselves apart trying to understand who betrayed them.

It starts raining before we've gone three blocks, fine and cold and steady, the kind that soaks you without ever seeming to fall. We move fast, weaving through late-night stragglers, across the river, into quieter streets where foot traffic thins. I keep her close, one eye on the corners, the parked cars, the rooftops.

Ailish breaks the silence first. “You don’t have to grip my hand so tightly,” she says softly.

“You’re the only thing I care about keeping upright right now.”

She gives a humorless laugh. “If you let go, I won’t shatter.”

“I’m not taking the risk.”

She exhales. Not annoyed—more like she’s too overwhelmed to correct me further.

We reach a quieter block, rows of shuttered shops and dim flats above. I steer her into the recessed doorway of a closed tailor’s shop and step in front of her, blocking her from view.

She looks up at me, rain clinging to her lashes. “Declan, what if that woman doubled back and follows?” She cringes, realizing her moment of vulnerability. Normally I’d give her shit for such a thing, but this is not the time.

“She didn’t,” I say firmly. “I checked.”

“You can’t be sure.”

“I am.”

Because I know how the Russians train their shadows. I’ve hunted men and women like that before. I’ve watched what they become when they’re forced into silence and obedience. Even their footsteps obey orders.

“Ailish,” I say, lowering my voice, “they wanted you to know you were being watched. That’s all. Tonight wasn’t the kill.”

Her throat moves in a tight swallow. “Then what was it?”

“A demonstration. A warning. And a message.”

The worry behind her eyes darkens. “Liam’s already putting weight on my actions.”

“I saw the new protocols he issued,” I say. “He’s suspicious, but he’s holding it together—for now.”

“For now isn’t long enough,” she whispers. She’s right. We’re living on borrowed hours, and I know what I need to do. Whether or not she’ll cooperate is another problem.

I pull her coat straighter around her and watch the city for a moment, waiting for her breathing to steady. “Tell me everything from the beginning,” I say.

She nods slowly. She traces her steps even from earlier in the day, with words. I don’t like the idea of that rescheduled meeting. Almost like it’s linked. Like they are using our movements against us.

I’ve been expecting that detail, but it still burns through me like acid.

“They want to fabricate a version of you that Liam will believe exists,” I say.

She meets my gaze. “Do you think it’s working?”