11. Declan

"What the fuck is it?"I grumble over the phone to Finn.

"Christ, if you're going to be like this now, too, I'm going to need to host an intervention."

"Oh, fuck off. What do you want?"

"Eoin's been stealing from us. I have him indisposed at his apartment. I mean, if you're too busy, I can handle this myself."

"Eoin?" I parrot in surprise. This seems out of character for the young man who moved here not so long ago. He always kept his nose clean back in Ireland, so I was instantly skeptical when Finn said his name. "You're sure?"

"Little lad seems to have a bit of a coke problem."

"Shite. I'll be there in twenty-five minutes."

I don't like the idea of this place going unprotected, so I text the one person I know who will come at the drop of a hat.

Me: I need you to come to The High Roller and make sure Elena doesn't leave.

Lorcán: Why is no one stationed there right now?

Me: Seamus sent Cillian to Boston to handle things with the Connors, and Finn and I have a little problem we need to take care of.

Lorcán: I'll get away as soon as I can. Anthony is on the warpath right now.

Me: I'll give her a tracking bracelet tomorrow.

Lorcán: What?

Me: Later, Lorcy ??

The front door to Eoin's apartment is open, so I let myself in, as one does, locking it behind me. I head over to where Finn is sitting on the couch, flipping through channels, while Eoin is duct taped to a kitchen chair not too far from him.

Eoin's apartment is modern and on the outskirts of town, but it doesn't seem as clean as it usually does. Mail is piled up on the counter, the trash is overflowing, and the place looks unkempt.

I wouldn't say Eoin and I are particularly close, but I wouldn't have guessed that he was a thief.

"Who has cable anymore?" Finn complains as he finds a music station and turns it up loud.

I click my tongue and shake my head at the man who is already crying, shaking his head while his mouth is taped shut.

"Are you crying because guilt is consuming you whole? Or because you know what happens to thieves?" I ask him.

Letting your own steal from you is a surefire way to have an empire fall. Seamus wants me to rule with his sons. Then well, I need to work alongside Finn, Cillian, and Lorcán to make sure our empire has a united front when it comes to future leaders of said empire.

He just mumbles some nonsense that I assume is his guilty conscience rearing to the forefront, but I could be wrong. It could be the knife that Finn is taking out of the knife block and bringing over to where he's sitting.

"Your da was one of the best enforcers I'd ever seen," Finn starts, looking at the glint of the knife. "He'd be so disappointed in you, Eoin. Did you spend all twenty-thousand on lines, or do you have some of it left?" Finn asks, and I harshly rip the tape from Eoin's mouth.

Eoin gasps out a breath of relief as tears stain his cheeks. Damn, he broke down fast. If Finn gives him a second chance, there's no way we can let him be privy to any major information if he's going to crumble this fast, but maybe it's the drugs.

"I don't have any of it left," he cries, knowing that lying won't help him. It will only make things worse.

"How much does Eoin make a year?" Finn asks me.

"How would I fucking know?" I retort, I'm not Cillian. I don't have random numbers saved in my head, let alone what Eoin's legal and not-so-legal salary is.

"You make around one hundred thousand under the table and nearly eighty legally, isn't that right, Eoin?"

The man nods his head, and I glare at Finn. I suppose he's toying with the bastard.

"Yet you still stole from us. Not only that, but your dumbass stole from the casino. Of all fucking places. Do you know what it's going to take to clear this up?"

"I'm sorry. I'll pay it all back. I'm sorry," Eoin complains.

"Hold his hand," Finn demands, and I do just that, holding his hand steady as Finn brings the knife down and cuts off his pinky finger.

He cries out as the small digit rolls to the floor.

Why do fingers always look so strange when they've been cut off? They always go straight, looking like little sea creatures who found themselves on the surface and shriveled up and died.

"This is your only warning. We're sending you to rehab to get this little problem under control. You lie or steal from the family again, and you'll be left in pieces in the desert. Do you understand?" Finn threatens him in a steely voice.

Eoin nods his head. "I'm sorry. Thank you, Mr. O'Brien. I won't fuck up again."

"You'd better not. Drop him off at Desert Hope Treatment Center. Fucker cut his finger off while he was high. Isn't that right, Eoin?"

"That's right."

Finn walks away, leaving me with the fingerless man, and I have every desire in the world to pull my gun out to shoot both Eoin and Finn in the foot. He knew where I was. He could have handled this all on his own. Yet, he called me here to handle this alongside him, all to get me away from her.

Fucking bastard.

"You're lucky it was only a finger, mate."

"I know. I really fucked up. It's so different here than from back home," he sobs, and I sympathize with him for a short moment.

"No more coke, no more prostitutes."

"You're one to talk," he seethes.

I snap, pull out my gun, and shoot him in the head.

A voice croons in the corner. "And I'm the one known for my temper. I'll call the clean-up crew. Fucking Omega," Finn grumbles the last part, barely loud enough for me to hear.

Pissed off and knowing he wants it, I turn and punch Finn right in the face. He smiles as he swipes the blood off his lip and grins at me.

"So predictable."

I almost decide to hit him again but think better of it. If Finn hits back, I'm fucked. Instead, I go home and have my ma clean up my damaged knuckles.

"You won't impress her looking like a street urchin," my mother, Maeve, chastises as she digs through my closet.

The woman is invasive as fuck, but there was no way I was leaving her behind when I moved to the States. I'm all she has, and I know if I left her behind, she wouldn't survive long. She needs to keep busy, and she does that by working around the house for us.

"Ma', she doesn't give a shit about those kinds of things."

"You're representing the family, Declan. You need to dress like it. Mr. O'Brien is bringing you into the fold. You're going to be a pack with his sons, part of the O'Brien pack. This is a big deal. You can't blow it by not dressing the part."

"I'm just going to see Elena."

"Looking like you're going to one of those American football games. Your da' always looked so nice. It's why I married him."

"You met him on your wedding night." She also grew to fucking hate the bastard.

"And he wore a very handsome suit. He didn't show up to the chapel looking like he was going to a disco."

"No one goes to discos anymore," I point out.

"Well, maybe they should, and they wouldn't be so morally bankrupt."

I glare at her. She knows exactly what we do, what my da did. And yet, her moral code has more to do with women walking around showing too much arse and men acting like sluts.

"She doesn't care," I repeat, and my mother clicks her tongue, knowing I won't put a goddamn suit on.

"She's not one of those Omegas who looks down on Betas, is she?"

"Not as far as I can tell."

She slaps my cheek lightly with a smile. "Good, because we're the only ones with our wits about us. Now, don't fuck it up," she whispers.

I have Rory drop me off at the club, not wanting to fuck around with parking, and I'm happy to find that Elena is waiting at a booth in the casino section of the club. A large Alpha is trying to speak to her, though she's showing complete disinterest. He doesn't seem to be getting aggressive but isn't taking the hint, either.

She's wearing a red dress again. The color brings out her skin tone and makes her pretty blue eyes pop. I find myself wanting to peel the fabric off slowly while having my way with her.

I'm not sure what it is about her. Maybe the way she flirts with me shamelessly or the fact that I know she's going to be ours.

She doesn't see me approach, but her posture changes as soon as she hears my voice. "There you are, blondie," I greet, ducking down and stepping between her and the Alpha. Without any warning, I press my lips to hers.

Her lip gloss is sticky and sweet. My tongue automatically darts out to savor the flavor as they part.

"Hi," she breathes out wistfully.

"Hello. Want to get out of here?"

"Like the club?" she asks, her face filling with panic.

"No, we could go upstairs. Just hang out," I suggest, and she nods her head.

At some point during our interaction the other male left, and I'm thankful for it as I take her small hand to lead her up the stairs. She handles it with the girl working up there as to which room we will be using.

I don't expect us to do anything, it's just nice not to be gawked at by a bunch of rich, pretentious assholes.

The room we wind up in is decorated in all reds and golds. We both take a seat on the red velvet couch, and I feel a little lost as to where to go from here. I don't want her to feel like this has to go anywhere beyond the friendly, yet flirty, conversation.

Elena slides off her heels and tucks her legs to the side, getting comfortable. I like that she's at ease with me. It's a far cry from the scared girl I accosted at the pharmacy.

She shifts her thighs, and I can tell, even without an Alpha's ability to scent, that she's struggling.

"I could still get you those suppressants, you know."

"Where did you get them from?" she asks, arching a brow. She's baiting me, and I know it. I wonder what she truly thinks about Cillian and me. It's clear she doesn't know who we are or enough about our family to connect the dots. But there's no way she doesn't suspect we"re more than average businessmen.

"I have a doctor friend."

"Uh, huh? I think I'll wait to legally obtain my prescription."

"Can't blame a man for trying to be helpful."

"I don't," she agrees. Her arm rests on the back of the couch, and she touches my hair with her delicate fingers.

"I'd help you any way you wanted."

"Because you're paid to?" she asks.

"Ah, blondie, we both know you can be paid for something and enjoy it all the same. But no, because I'd want to."

"Thank God," she says, quickly crawling over to straddle my lap.

It's obvious not having her suppressants is riding her hard, and maybe it could have been anyone sitting here on this couch with her, and she'd be asking for relief. But she was completely disinterested in that other Alpha.

She probably doesn't know that Cillian would have also killed him if he touched her. Or maybe she does, and she doesn't want to admit it. I've seen it so many times, people who grow up in this life trying to defy what their future holds, yet always come back to it because it's familiar.

Maybe she's subconsciously drawn to Cillian and me because she sees a familiar danger lurking underneath.

"And what is it that you want, pretty girl?" I ask her.

My hands spear through her soft hair as I cradle her head. Her pupils are blown wide, and she licks her lips.

She doesn't speak, just crashes her lips to mine. The kiss is frantic and messy, and when her teeth tug on my bottom lip, I lose all control.

My hands grab her full ass to slide her pussy against my hardening cock as I slide my tongue into her mouth to taste her. She moans as I press the bulge in my pants against her pussy, applying pressure with each flex of my hips.

She gasps, and our lips part as I kiss along the perfectly unblemished column of her throat. When she's finally ours and not hiding away in this hell hole, I'll be leaving marks on her all the damn time. Sure, the Alphas can mark her permanently, but the idea of leaving my love bites in new places sends a tingle of pleasure down my spine.

"Do you think I can make you come without even touching your pussy?"

She makes a discontented noise but nods her head.

"Make a mess all over me, Elena. I want to walk downstairs, showing all those Alphas how I made you come all over me, and I didn't even need to lift a finger."

Elena moans, throwing her head back, and I keep pressing kisses against her soft skin. Her hips buck over my hardness. I can feel and smell her arousal, she's close.

My grip on her ass cheeks gets tighter as I help her shift back and forth on my lap. My cock is aching, begging me to pull it out and slide deep inside of her, but I somehow control myself.

Part of me is holding back because an unfamiliar sense of guilt is looming around me. I understand Cillian's reasons now. I want Elena to want me beyond this place, beyond her hormones that are at the forefront, controlling this situation.

I don't want her to hate me for what we have planned next, and this feels safe enough.

"That's it. Come on, pretty girl. I want to wear your scent for days," I coax, my teeth dragging against her jaw.

Her hands wind tightly in my hair as her hips stutter. A strong vanilla frosting scent permeates the air as she moans and hunches over, panting into my ear. I wrap my arms around her and clutch her to my chest.

"Good girl. Feel better?"

She nuzzles against my neck. I don't have an Alpha scent to soothe her, but she doesn't seem to mind as she kisses behind my ear, clutching me just as hard as I am her.

While I can understand Cillian's reasons even more than I did before, having her in my arms changes everything.

She needs to be brought to her new home with us as soon as possible. As soon as Cillian gets back from Boston, I'm putting my foot down.

"Can we just stay like this for a while?" she asks softly. I melt into her touch and nod my head.

I'm not sure how long we stay like that, but the entire time, I think of the least catastrophic way to make her ours.