Page 21 of His Forced Irish Mafia Bride

“It already is.”

“Getting married doesn’t give you permission to control my life.”

I poured myself a drink without taking my eyes off her. “You married me because people want to hurt your father. Now those people would use you to hurt me.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know.”

“So then why the hell do I need security following me around?”

“Because confidence doesn’t stop bullets.”

The room went quiet after that. Declan kept his expression flat behind his glass.

Maeve stared at me with visible fury building in her face, but underneath it I caught something else—fear. “You don’t get to decide every part of my life,” she said.

I stepped closer slowly, keeping my voice level. “Actually, Maeve, after tonight, there are very few parts of your life that don’t involve me.”

Declan moved toward the elevator now, reading the tension in the room perfectly. “I’ll have the overnight team rotate every four hours,” he said casually before stepping into the elevator. The doors closed, and silence settled heavily through the penthouse.

I watched Maeve stare out toward the city lights, her shoulders rigid beneath the dark green dress. She was angry and trapped, but still refusing to bend. And somewhere between one breath and the next, I realized something dangerous: I was no longer thinking about her safety as a strategy.

The instinct to protect her had already become personal.

The city lights reflected back in the glass around her, broken lines of gold and white. Her shoulders were still tight, locked from the conversation, fromme. Her wedding ring caught the light when she folded her arms.

Then, as if on cue, as if the light on the ring had caused it, the penthouse exploded. The first gunshot hit the windows before my mind had fully processed the sound.

Glass collapsed inward, and Maeve raised her arm instinctively to shield her face.

I didn’t think.

I moved, crossing the room in a straight line, and hit Maeve at the waist. I pulled her down as another round tore through the window behind us. Glass rained everywhere; the marble island was the nearest cover. I got her there fast,dragging her behind it as more shots hit the penthouse in an uneven rhythm. I covered her body with mine without hesitation.

Furniture cracked, glass breaking and metal ringing. The penthouse turned into something unrecognizable in seconds. Alarms screamed.

Security guards’ voices overlapped, sharp and controlled, but getting louder. Their voices cut across each other through hidden wall speakers.

“Shots fired! Shots fired!”

“North side windows breached!”

I kept Maeve behind the marble island while glass continued to rain across the floor.

Then a familiar voice came through the chaos. “Move the principal away from the windows now!” Colt. Even through gunfire, his voice carried the same hard authority it always did.

A second voice followed almost immediately. “We’ve got eyes on the shooter’s position. Two buildings east. Counter-team is moving.” Dilligan, calm and precise, like he was discussing the weather instead of an active attack.

I glanced toward the entrance. Both men were already there. Colt entered first, his broad shoulders filling the doorway as he directed security into positions around the penthouse. Dilligan stayed half a step behind him, issuing instructions into his radio while tracking updates from the teams outside.

“Lock down the elevators.”

“Done.”

“Seal the parking garage.”

“Already happening.”