The Mafia’s Only Collateral

CHAPTER 2 Fire Behind the Walls

Declan’s grip on my chin stays firm, rough fingers digging just enough to remind me who’s in charge — but I don’t flinch. I don’t soften. I stare right back, chin tilted up, eyes blazing, daring him to push harder. I’ve been grabbed, shaken, shouted at, hurt far worse than this by people who were supposed to protect me. One rich, angry gangster isn’t going to make me fold. Not today. Not ever.

“Let go of me,” I say, voice low and steady, no tremor in sight. “You think grabbing me makes you tough? Makes you right? It just makes you exactly like every other bastard I’ve ever met.”

He laughs — short, sharp, dark as thunder — and leans closer still, his broad frame boxing me in completely, heat rolling off him in waves. “You’ve got a mouth on you, Lila Maeve. Problem is… you’re in my world now. And here? Rules are mine. What I say goes. Every choice you ever thought you had? Gone. From the second I walked through that door, you weren’t yours anymore. And now?” His gaze drops hard to my stomach, dark and furious and possessive all at once. “Now you’ve gone and made it worse. You think I’m letting you slip away? You think I’m letting this — whatever it is — slip away too? You’re tied to me now. Permanently.”

Behind him, Elias steps forward, hands in his pockets, that slow, calculating look still fixed on me like I’m a map he’s tracing with his eyes. He’s softer around the edges than Declan, but sharper underneath — every glance feels like he’s peeling back layers I’ve spent years gluing down tight.

“Three months,” he says, quiet, certain — not asking. “Right about the time your daddy ran up his last big tab and vanished. Funny how things line up, isn’t it? Who hurt you, Lila? Who left you carrying this and running scared?”

My jaw tightens so hard my teeth ache, but my face stays smooth, unreadable. Nobody gets to know that part. Nobody gets to see that wound.

“Doesn’t matter,” I snap, tone icy. “Same as everything else in my life — none of your business. And don’t you dare look at me like I’m some poor broken thing you get to feel sorry for or figure out. I’m fine. I’m surviving. Just like I always have.”

Silas snorts, stepping up beside Elias, heavy boots thudding hard against the floor. He’s bulkier than the others, knuckles scarred, jaw set like granite — and his eyes? They run over me like I’m glass waiting to shatter, like he’s already counting down the seconds until I finally crack.

“Surviving,” he repeats, voice rough and thick with doubt, a cruel little smirk tugging at his mouth. “Cute. You think tough words keep you safe? You think standing tall means you ain’t fragile? We all see it, princess — you’re hanging on by a thread. All that bite? Just a shield. And shields break. Especially when you’re carrying extra weight. Bet you’ll be begging before the week’s out.”

I meet his gaze head-on and grin — sharp, wicked, unafraid. “Bet you’ll be crying before I do. And don’t call me princess. I’m nobody’s pretty little anything. I’m just the thing you’re stuck with — and trust me, I’m gonna be the biggest headache you ever had.”

For a second something flickers in Silas’s eyes — surprise, then darker, hungrier interest — like he’s already looking forward to trying to prove me wrong.

Then there’s Mateo.

He hasn’t moved an inch. Stands back, quiet as a shadow, arms crossed over his chest, broad shoulders still, dark eyes fixed only on me. He hasn’t spoken a single word since they walked in — never speaks, I remember — but he sees everything. Every tiny shift in my posture, every clench of my hand against my stomach, every flash of anger I try to hide. He watches me like I’m something he’s studying, something he’s trying to understand — not to break, not to own, just… to know. And somehow that feels heavier, more intense, than all the shouting and threats combined.

Declan pulls back just enough to look me over from head to toe, his expression hardening into something cold and absolute. He reaches down, grabs my sketchbook from the counter where I’d left it open — pages filled with quiet landscapes, hidden corners, things I draw when I need somewhere safe — and flips it shut with a sharp snap.

“Pack what you need,” he orders, voice final, unarguable. “You’re coming with us. Now. Don’t even think about leaving anything behind — and don’t think about running. If you try? I will hunt you down. And I won’t be gentle. You belong to the Vance family now — debts, secrets, baby and all. And you don’t get to walk away.”

I straighten up, brushing past him — shoulder bumping deliberately against his chest — and snatch my bag off the chair, shoving clothes and essentials inside fast, no hesitation, no tears. I don’t beg. I don’t bargain. I just turn back to face them, bag slung over one shoulder, chin high, fire still burning bright in my eyes.

“Fine,” I say, cool and clear. “I’ll go. But don’t you dare think for one second that means I’m yours. I’m nobody’s. And whatever you think you’ve got here? You haven’t won anything yet. You’ve got a wild, sharp-mouthed, stubborn pain in the arse on your hands — and you’re gonna regret ever walking through that door.”

Declan’s mouth curves into a dark, dangerous smile — satisfied, hungry, like he’s been waiting his whole life for a fight like this.

“Oh, Lila,” he rumbles, stepping back to let me pass, hand resting heavy on my lower back — possessive, claiming — as he guides me toward the door. “I don’t regret a single thing. And neither will you… by the time I’m done with you.”

I glance back over my shoulder, catching each of them in turn:

• Declan: burning with fury and ownership, already planning every way to bind me tighter to him.

• Elias: watching, thinking, still turning me over in his mind like the most interesting puzzle he’s ever found.

• Silas: grinning, rough and ready, already counting the ways he’ll try to wear me down.

• Mateo: silent, steady, eyes never leaving mine — seeing everything, saying nothing.

And I know — deep down, clear as day — I’m walking straight into the lion’s den. But lions don’t scare me. I’ve survived worse than them. And I’m not broken. I’m not weak. And I’ll be damned if I let any of them — any of them — ever forget it.