Page 78 of The Endless Want

He stops. It’s the first time tonight he’s had nothing loaded.

“That’s different,” he says.

“It’s the same sentence. You just get to say it in a lower voice.”

His jaw works. “Until what?” he demands.

The accusation hits like a slap. I stare at him, stunned. “You think I’d use a child like that?”

“You used me like that,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “You let me stand in Liam’s office and defend you while you knew something I didn’t.”

“Don’t,” I whisper, pain spiking under my ribs. “Don’t rewrite the past like you’re the only one who bled in it.”

His voice drops to a near-silent growl. “You said his name. In front of every man in that room, you said his name.”

“And you told me I was the reason everything fell apart.”

“Maybe you are.”

Those words. Those four words shatter something inside me. My breath stumbles. I raise a hand, pressing my palm to the table behind me to stay upright. “Declan… stop.”

But he barrels on, too angry to hear the tremor in my voice. “You knew exactly what you were doing. You always do. You calculate every move. Every word. Every breath.”

“That’s not⁠—”

“And now you’re telling me this?” His jaw flexes. “Now? When the Russians are circling? When Liam’s barely keeping the alliances steady? When you’re already under suspicion?”

My voice breaks. “I wasn’t trying to manipulate⁠—”

“Yes,” he hisses. “You were.”

I go still. There’s only so much pain a person can swallow before something inside them tilts. “Get out,” I whisper.

He doesn’t move.

“Get. Out.”

“Ailish—”

“You don’t get to accuse me of using a baby,” I say, voice shaking but sharp. “You don’t get to come into my home and tear me apart and then pretend you’re the victim.” I wipe at my cheeks with shaking hands. “If you can’t hear me without turning it into a battlefield, then leave.”

“Ailish, you are not thinking clearly⁠—”

“No.” My voice rises, hoarse. “I’m thinking perfectly clearly. For once.” I step forward, squaring myself to him despite the tears on my face. “If you can’t be a father without being a soldier first, don’t come back.”

He freezes. The silence that follows sinks into the walls. Into my skin. Into the air around us. Declan’s expression is unreadable. Blank. Masked.

But his eyes⁠—

His eyes look like a man watching something he didn’t realize he needed slip through his fingers.

“Ailish…” he says quietly, and for the first time, there’s something like shock in his tone.

“Go,” I whisper.

He swallows hard, chest rising once, sharply, as if it hurts him. Then—slowly—he steps backward.

One step. Then another.