Page 58 of The Endless Want

I whip into motion the way Ronan taught me. I dodge her reach, twisting my torso just enough that her fingers graze my coat instead of my arm. I swing my elbow hard into her ribs. She grunts, stumbling back.

But she’s faster than I am. She lunges again, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking me toward the alley between the dockside warehouses. Pain flares across my scalp, stars blurring my vision.

“Let go!” I scream, forcing every lesson into my hands as I claw at her wrist and shove my weight downward. She stumbles again.

My screaming must do it—my voice echoing across the empty dock—because the operative shouts for backup, and the second attacker breaks away from our contact.

I kick the woman directly in the knee. She screams. Her grip loosens enough for me to wrench free, stumbling backward. I fall to one knee, palms scraping along the pavement.

The contact shouts again, pinned by the larger attacker. My guard by the car sees the commotion and bolts toward us, shouting into his radio.

The woman recovers, lunging toward me again. This time I don’t wait—I shove my shoulder into her chest and push off, sprinting toward the street.

My lungs burn. My side aches. I hear footsteps pounding behind me.

She’s following.

The man tackles her from behind, dragging her into the fog so roughly she shrieks. I don’t wait to see more. I run, heart screaming in my chest, until my guard catches my arm and pulls me toward the car.

“Inside!” he barks.

I collapse into the backseat just as he slams the door. The world blurs into motion.

I don’t remember the drive back. Only the way my hands shake uncontrollably, how my brain keeps replaying the sensation of fingers tangled in my hair, the sound of shoes slamming onto wet pavement, the moment the woman’s masked eyes locked on mine with absolute intent.

By the time we reach the compound, I’m barely breathing.

Mackenzie is there first. And Ronan. They pull open the door before the car fully stops.

“Oh my God,” Mackenzie breathes, reaching for me.

“I’m fine,” I manage, even though I’m trembling so hard the words choke. “Just bruised.”

“Bullshit,” Ronan mutters, voice low but fiercely gentle. “Inside. Now.”

They flank me up the steps like I’m made of glass. And for the first time since joining this world, I don’t feel strong. I feel small. Breakable. Shaken in a way even Nadia’s stories couldn’t prepare me for. Even though I fought back.

Ronan escorts us to Liam’s side room, but I stop him. “Take me home,” I whisper. “I just… I can’t stay here right now.”

I’m so tired. So tired of being a target.

Ronan studies me, eyes narrowing. Mackenzie squeezes my hand. “Alright. Let’s go.”

I must fall asleep on the short trip because I don’t know much else until we pull up to my place. Back at my apartment, the security detail lines the hallway, already waiting for me after this next incident.

Declan’s face crosses my mind, and I will it away. I don’t want to think about how he’ll feel about this.

I allow myself to be ushered inside and fussed over before being taken to my room.

My usual guard stands outside the bedroom door as Mackenzie helps me sit on the edge of the bed. I’m clearly going into shock which isn’t good for the baby. I have to clam down.

She brings a glass of water. Ronan stays in the living room just beyond where I can still see, pacing, muttering about tightening all routes and gutting every Russian contact from here to Dublin.

I try to breathe. I’m shaking too hard. I lie back, staring at the ceiling. The cold in my chest feels like ice cracking with each inhale.

Then the front door slams. Hard. My eyes go wide at the sound as Mackenzie pats me reassuringly.

Voices explode in the living room—shouting, arguing, boots scraping across hardwood.