Page 264 of Inferno

“We really need to get cleaned up,” she tells me sternly.

“I’m fine,” I grunt.

She shakes her head, her hands grazing down my abs towards my belt.

Loud footsteps approach behind us, and she freezes, and I grab her hands.

As Enzo clears his throat behind us, she steps back. I can’t hide my grin.

“We’ve got two hours until the jet is ready. Conan and Finn are already in the air with Drago. We didn’t want him in a Russian hospital. Finn is trying to treat him in the jet.”

Closing my eyes, I wrap my arm around Charlotte's shoulder. After everything that she’s been through, he needs to pull through. Her life has been cruel enough.

“Try?” she asks.

“Yes. He’s not dead yet,” Enzo replies bluntly, and I clench my fists.

“Finn is the best of the best, baby,” I reassure her and glare at Enzo.

Now isn’t the time to upset her.

“We don’t expect any retaliation on American soil. So, let’s just get the hell out of here and do damage control back in the States.”

As Enzo goes to step back, he stops and looks at Charlotte.

“You’ve done yourself proud. I hope you can find peace now that he’s out of your life.”

She nods and extends her hand. He grins and shakes it.

“Thank you. Your invite to Decadence saved mine and Isabella’s life.”

“Fate works in funny ways, Charlotte. You’ll be of great use to us.”

I raise a brow. Like fuck am I ever putting her in harm’s way again.

As he goes to walk away, I stop him, leaving Charlotte on the landing.

“She’s not working for us, Enzo. I’m not becoming him. She only does what she wants to. End of discussion,” I tell him firmly.

“Oh, I know. I was just testing. She’s helped me with information, I don’t require her any further. Be good to her, Declan. She deserves it, and so do you.”

He squeezes my shoulder.

“You have no idea how lucky you are having them back in your life.”

A sadness creeps into his voice that makes me pause.

“Whoever it is you're searching for, let me know how I can help. I owe you,” I tell him, and I mean it.

“You’ve already helped.” He nods up to Charlotte, and I follow his gaze to my beautiful woman.

He’s right. I am the luckiest man alive.

I’ll never take that for granted.

Striding back over to her, I take her hands and study the angry welts on her wrists. It looks worse probably because it’s on already scarred skin. But a burning rage still rips through my chest, and I take a breath.

“It will heal, and once it does, I’ll make it look pretty with tattoos,” she tells me, and I run my finger along her ink, stopping in the empty space around her elbow and her inner bicep.

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