Chapter 3 - Everything She Had Left
Norah’s body went cold.
Victor Sloane had always unsettled her.
He was handsome in a polished, expensive way—silver at his temples, tailored suits, cuff links that probably cost more than Norah’s car—but his smile never reached his eyes.
During her first week at the estate, Victor had cornered her near the pantry and asked whether she was married.
When Norah said no, his gaze had dropped to her empty ring finger.
“Smart woman,” he had said.
She had disliked him immediately.
Now she understood why.
He stepped deeper into the medical room.
“Declan?”
Norah crouched behind the reinforced bed beside Declan.
She could feel heat radiating from his feverish skin.
His breathing had become almost silent.
One hand held the gun.
The other rested against his wounded abdomen.
Victor moved closer.
His shoes crunched softly over broken glass.
“There’s nowhere to go.”
Declan’s jaw tightened.
Norah looked toward him.
He gave the smallest shake of his head.
Do nothing.
Victor stopped beside the overturned cart.
“Should’ve taken the first bullet like a man.”
Norah’s stomach twisted.
So Victor had been involved.
Maybe he had fired the shot himself.
Victor continued.
“You always were difficult.”
Lightning flashed.
For one instant his shadow stretched across the white wall.
“You built everything,” Victor said quietly. “I’ll give you that. The docks. The clubs. The politicians. Half this city answers when you call.”
His voice hardened.
“But you never learned when to share.”
Declan shifted beside Norah.
His pistol rose.
Norah touched his wrist.
He looked at her sharply.
She pointed silently toward the metal cabinet behind Victor.
Its mirrored surface showed Victor’s position clearly.
Declan understood.
Instead of rising, he angled the pistol along the floor.
Victor came closer.
“You know what your problem was, brother?”
Norah’s eyes widened.
Brother?
Victor laughed softly.
“You believed loyalty could be bought.”
Declan suddenly fired.
The shot exploded through the room.
Victor threw himself sideways.
His pistol discharged.
Glass shattered above Norah’s head.
She instinctively ducked.
Victor cursed.
Declan tried to rise.
His legs failed.
Norah grabbed his shoulder.
“Stay down!”
Victor fired again.
The bullet struck the bedframe.
Norah looked desperately around.
A metal tray lay beside her.
She grabbed it.
“What are you doing?” Declan whispered.
“Improvising.”
She hurled the tray toward the opposite side of the room.
It crashed against glass.
Victor spun toward the sound.
Declan fired again.
Victor screamed.
His pistol hit the floor.
Declan’s bullet had struck his shoulder.
For half a second, silence followed.
Then Victor ran.
Declan tried to pursue him.
Norah shoved him back.
“You can barely stand.”
“He’ll alert everyone.”
“He already tried to kill you.”
“Exactly.”
Declan reached for the edge of the bed.
Norah blocked him.
“You move, that wound opens.”
“Move.”
“No.”
His eyes went cold.
“Norah.”
“You remembered my name.”
“Move.”
“No.”
“You have no idea what you’re involved in.”
“You’re right. But I do know you have about half your normal blood supply and the survival instincts of an angry raccoon.”
Despite the chaos, Declan stared at her.
“Did you just compare me to a raccoon?”
“An armed one.”
Footsteps echoed downstairs.
Many footsteps.
Declan’s expression changed.
“We need to leave.”
“Where?”
“Not downstairs.”
He pointed toward a panel in the wall.
Norah followed his gaze.
It looked decorative.
“Press the lower molding.”
She did.
A hidden door clicked open.
Behind it waited a narrow staircase.
“You have secret passageways?”
“It’s an old house.”
“That is not normal old-house architecture.”
“Move.”
Norah helped Declan stand.
His weight nearly pulled her down.
He was heavier than he looked.
And considerably more stubborn.
Together they entered the hidden stairwell.
Behind them, voices filled the corridor.
“Check the medical room!”
Norah closed the panel.
Darkness swallowed them.
Declan leaned against the wall.
His breathing became rough.
“How far?” Norah whispered.
“Basement.”
“You expect to walk three floors?”
“No.”
“Wonderful.”
He pointed downward.
“There’s an elevator.”
The hidden lift was barely large enough for both of them.
Norah supported Declan as they descended.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then she asked, “Victor is your brother?”
“Half brother.”
“He shot you?”
“Someone did.”
“You’re still protecting him?”
“No.”
The elevator stopped.
The doors opened into an underground garage.
Rows of luxury vehicles waited in darkness.
Declan pointed toward a black SUV.
“Keys inside.”
“Of course they are.”
Norah helped him into the passenger seat.
She climbed behind the wheel.
“You drive?”
“I was married to a man who lost his license twice.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For the marriage or the driving?”
“Both.”
Norah started the engine.
The garage door opened.
Rain exploded across the windshield.
“Where are we going?”
Declan hesitated.
“St. Mercy Church.”
Norah stared at him.
“You’re taking refuge in a church?”
“Priest owes me.”
“Of course he does.”
She drove.
Behind them, headlights appeared.
Declan twisted in his seat.
“Faster.”
Norah pressed the accelerator.
The SUV surged down the wet road.
“What happens if they catch us?”
“They kill me.”
“And me?”
Declan looked at her.
“They won’t leave witnesses.”
Norah’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“Great.”
A vehicle rammed them from behind.
Norah shouted.
Declan grabbed the dashboard.
The SUV fishtailed.
“Keep control!”
“I’m trying!”
Another impact.
Norah saw headlights beside them.
A black sedan pulled alongside.
The rear window lowered.
Declan saw the gun first.
“Down!”
Norah ducked.
Bullets struck the SUV.
Glass cracked.
Declan fired through the broken passenger window.
The sedan swerved.
Norah accelerated.
Ahead, railroad crossing lights began flashing.
A freight train approached.
“Norah.”
“I see it.”
“You won’t make it.”
“I know.”
She accelerated.
Declan stared.
“What are you doing?”
“Being brave or stupid.”
“You chose now?”
The crossing arms dropped.
Norah drove around them.
The SUV shot across the tracks.
The train horn screamed.
The pursuing sedan tried to follow.
Then stopped.
The train thundered between them.
Norah exhaled.
Declan looked at her.
“You’re insane.”
“You hired me.”
“I didn’t hire you.”
“Your house did.”
Twenty minutes later, they reached St. Mercy Church.
An elderly priest opened the side door.
His eyes widened when he saw Declan.
“You look terrible.”
“Good evening, Father.”
Then the priest noticed Norah.
“And you brought a woman.”
Norah raised an eyebrow.
Declan leaned heavily against her.
“It’s been a complicated night.”
Inside the church basement, Father Gabriel cleaned and stitched Declan’s wound.
Norah sat nearby wrapped in a blanket.
Her hands had finally begun shaking.
Adrenaline faded.
Reality arrived.
Victor wanted Declan dead.
Someone inside the estate had helped him.
Norah had witnessed everything.
There would be no returning to normal housekeeping.
Father Gabriel finished bandaging Declan.
“He needs rest.”
“I need a phone,” Declan said.
“You need sleep.”
“A phone.”
The priest sighed.
Norah stood.
“I need answers.”
Declan looked at her.
“You need to disappear.”
“My purse, identification, and apartment keys are at your estate.”
“I’ll replace them.”
“You cannot replace my identity.”
“I can.”
“That is somehow more disturbing.”
His expression remained serious.
“Norah, Victor saw you.”
“I know.”
“He will find out who you are.”
“I know.”
“He will find everyone you care about.”
That stopped her.
Norah’s mother lived forty miles away.
Her younger brother was in college.
Colin might have been gone, but her family was not.
Declan saw the fear in her eyes.
“Give me their names.”
“No.”
“I can protect them.”
“Like you protected yourself?”
His expression tightened.
Norah immediately regretted the words.
But Declan simply looked away.
“Fair.”
She sat opposite him.
“Why is Victor doing this?”
Declan was silent.
Then he said, “Because I was leaving.”
Norah frowned.
“Leaving what?”
“This life.”
She laughed once.
“You expect me to believe the feared criminal king of Bellgrave was retiring?”
“I was trying.”
“Why?”
Declan stared toward the crucifix on the wall.
“My sister.”
Something in his voice changed.
“She died three years ago. Wrong place. Wrong bullet. My bullet wasn’t the one that killed her, but my life put her there.”
Norah said nothing.
“I promised myself I’d dismantle the organization piece by piece. Legitimize what could be saved. Shut down everything else.”
“And Victor found out.”
“He helped build it. He considered my decision betrayal.”
Norah studied him.
“So he shot you and planned to take over.”
“Yes.”
“Why secretly? Why not just kill you publicly?”
“Because half my people would turn against him.”
“Then he needs it to look like someone else did it.”
Declan nodded.
Norah’s stomach sank.
“Someone like me?”
Declan looked at her.
Before he could answer, Father Gabriel’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then slowly turned toward them.
“Declan.”
May you like
“What?”
“Your estate is burning.”
