Chapter 7 - Ambush at the Docks
The battle for the estate was short, brutal, and absolute.
Declan had returned not with a small escort, but with thirty armored vehicles filled with his most loyal enforcers. They hit the mansion like a hammer, wiping out Dominic’s mercenaries within minutes.
When the heavy steel door of the panic room was unlocked from the outside, Mave stepped out into the ruined library.
Declan stood waiting. His suit jacket was gone, his dark shirt stained with rain and gunsmoke, holding a heavy shotgun in his hand.
When he saw Mave standing there, untouched, holding the silver pistol, the terrifying rage in his face melted into pure, desperate relief.
He dropped the shotgun onto the carpet, stepped across the room in two strides, and pulled Mave fiercely into his arms.
He buried his face into her neck, his broad arms wrapping around her so tightly she could barely breathe. His heart was pounding against her chest like a trapped animal.
"You're safe," Declan rasped, his voice trembling—a sound Mave had never heard from him before. "God help me, Mave, I thought I was too late."
Mave wrapped her arms around his broad waist, leaning into his strength, feeling the hot, fierce warmth of his body. "I told you, Declan. I don't break easily."
Behind them, Brutus trotted out of the panic room and pressed his massive head against their joined hips, releasing a long, contented huff.
Gavin was brought into the center of the room, bound in heavy chains, bleeding from a shoulder wound.
Declan didn't let go of Mave immediately. He kept one arm wrapped securely around her waist as he turned to face the traitor who had served him for ten years.
"Why, Gavin?" Declan asked, his voice cold as arctic ice.
Gavin spat blood onto the rug, looking up with bitter eyes. "Dominic offered me fifty percent of the river routes, Declan! You were getting soft! Ever since you brought this waitress into the house, you stopped making decisions with blood!"
Declan looked at Gavin with quiet, terrifying pity.
"You think mercy is weakness, Gavin," Declan whispered. "That's why you'll never rule this city."
Declan nodded once to his new lieutenant, Marcus. "Take him to the dry docks. Finish this."
As Gavin was dragged away screaming, Declan turned back to Mave. He cupped her face in his broad, calloused hands, his thumb gently wiping a speck of dust from her cheek.
"Dominic Vance is hiding at the old ironworks on Pier Nine," Declan said, his gray eyes burning with lethal intent. "He knows the inner circle is purged. He’s going to try to board a cargo ship to South America tonight."
"Are you going after him?" Mave asked softly.
"I am going to end him," Declan declared flatly. "So that you and my family never have to look over your shoulders again."
"Take Brutus," Mave said suddenly.
Declan blinked, surprised. "What?"
"Brutus knows Vance’s scent," Mave said, looking down at the massive pit bull. "And he trusts you now. Take him. Let him finish the job he started at the Anchor."
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Declan looked at the dog, then back at Mave. A slow, proud smile spread across his face. He leaned down and pressed his lips firmly against Mave’s, a deep, passionate kiss that tasted of rain, fire, and absolute promise.
"Wait for me at home, Mave," Declan murmured against her lips. "I'll be back for breakfast."
