Chapter 50

CHAPTER FIFTY

QUINN

A loud bang in the hallway startles me. I don't place the sound until I hear it again… And again. Gunshots. Some sound right outside the door and others far away.

Declan!

Emil, Yuri, and the Pakhan are all immediately on edge. Each of them scrambling to find a weapon as the shots grow fewer yet louder.

"You knew he would come for me," I gloat when Emil glances at me.

I knew he would come for me.

That they would all come for me.

There's a large thud against the apartment door, but it doesn't open. I expect another and for it to fly off its hinges as a swarm of Evans come flowing through. Instead, there's nothing but more gunfire.

"Get Quinn!" I hear Conor's deep voice boom over the repeated pops moments before another loud thud hits the door. It splinters from the frame and flies into the apartment, with Declan following directly behind it.

"Dec!" I scream, trying to warn him as I watch the three Russians raise their guns to shoot, but I'm too late. They all fire off a shot, and I watch his body jerk as one of the rounds hits his chest, the others— thankfully —missing their mark.

Declan falls to the ground, and a blood-curdling scream rises from my lungs as I try to push myself from the couch to get to him.

I can't lose him.

Not now.

Not after everything we've been through.

Finn fires from the threshold of the doorway, and both Yuri and Emil fall to the ground not far from Declan. His third shot hits the Pakhan. It knocks him off-kilter, but he grips the cream countertop of the small kitchen island and pulls himself to his feet. His eyes widen as the rest of the Evans brothers pour into the room. Turning his back, he blindly fires a few rounds as he retreats down the hall toward the fire escape.

Screaming his name as I rush forward, I fall to my knees when I reach Declan. I cannot contain my uncontrollable sobbing with fat tears streaming down my face. Moving on autopilot, I try to roll him onto his back. Liam joins me, easily flipping him over, and I gasp in horror at the sight. He hasn't just been shot in the chest. He has two other bullet wounds—one in his side, and another in his shoulder, about two inches above the round placed by the Pakhan.

"Dec, baby…" I weep as I stroke his face. "Please, baby… I just got you…"

"Shhh, mo chéadsearc ," he groans, placing his hand over mine. "You aren't getting rid of me that easily."

Relieved beyond measure that he is still alive, I throw myself onto him to squeeze him tightly, causing him to grunt in pain. "I'm sorr–"

"Don't you dare be sorry." He pulls me back onto him and squeezes far too tightly. Yet, even though his embrace is so tight it hurts, I only want him to hold me closer. "I'd take a dozen more if it meant I got to touch you again.".

"This is super fucking sweet and all," Conor grits, clearly in pain of his own, "but you two do know that there are more fucking Bratva on their way, right?"

"Do we get to push your fucking Life Alert button, old man?" Finn hovers over us both. "Or do you think you can get your old arse off the floor?"

Even riddled with bullet wounds and in obvious pain, Declan looks as though he could spring from the floor to beat the piss out of Finn, who's smirking like nothing just happened.

And suddenly, I'm beyond certain that he's going to be perfectly fine.