This chapter was originally 7k words so I had to cut it in half  😅 This chapter is important to the story line, this is Declan's full backstory so if you have been skimming through the story this far, this is one to read fully. The next chapter gets spicy 😈

Everything had finally caught up with me; the events of last night at the club, barely sleeping, being caught by Alex and having to run for it while being shot at. While we were driving to his mother's house I fell asleep with my head resting against the window. Declan had to wake me when we got there.

I'd never been this exhausted. My whole body was killing me and no matter how hard I tried I could barely keep my eyes open. Declan opened my door and lifted me into his arms. I put my head against his shoulder, clutching his shirt in my fist from how bad my legs ached from running for my life.

Sleep took over again before we even made it into the house and the next time I came to, I was laying in a dark room. I could just make out Declan's silhouette sitting at the edge of the bed. I could hear his deep voice mumbling something but I couldn't quite understand what he was saying and then I was gone again, lost in another dreamless slumber.

Rolling over on my side, I stretched my legs out from having them curled up into my chest for however long. I searched with closed eyes for my blankets but found none. Begrudgingly, I opened my eyes so I could find them but I was met by a completely foreign room.

I shot up in the bed, bringing my legs back into my chest as I pushed myself backwards until my back hit against the wood headboard of the bed making me wince. The room was painted a dark sage green color, except for the wall the bed was against, that was painted black. It was furnished with nothing more than a king sized bed that was covered in black and dark grey blankets and two dark wood nightstands, one at either side of the bed. The wall to my right was covered in black floor to ceiling curtains, two gold wall lamps hung on the wall on either side of them. There were two black doors on the wall to my left, both of which were closed.

Where the hell am I?

I moved away from the headboard towards the edge of the bed and swung my legs over. My bare feet landed on the tile floor that was made to look like hardwood. I looked over at the nightstand on my side of the bed to see if there were any pictures to give me some clue of who's house I was in and found a piece of paper with words scribbled on it.

Little one,
I went to your apartment to pack some of your things. You're safe at my mother's house. Please, please try not to get into any trouble while I'm gone.

That's right, he was driving me to his mother's when I'd fallen asleep in the car. Oh god. I'm alone at his mother's house.

"Might as well rip the bandaid off." I muttered, getting up from the bed. I searched the room for my socks and shoes but came up with nothing.

"Barefoot it is." I sighed.

I turned the gold handle of one of the doors which opened to a long hallway. These walls were painted the a cream color and the warm brown floor tiles continued. Much like the room I had come from, the walls were bare, no family photos or even framed stock images. The hallway lead to a huge open living space that was a kitchen, living room and dining room all in one.

The wall at the opposite end of the building was made entirely of glass which lead out to a stone patio that butted up against a dense forest. The snow covered pine trees were swaying in the winter winds as the heavy snow came down. Everything was a modern contemporary design, much different than anything I've seen that's tied to Declan. He seemed to have a flare for the maximalist dramatic while this was modern and minimalist.

"You must be Miss Murphy." A soft voice spoke from the kitchen. An older woman, in about her late fifties, was standing at the kitchen island with a steaming mug in her hands. She had the same hazel eyes and chocolate, auburn colored hair as Declan.

"I am." I answered awkwardly, walking towards the island. She gave a tight lipped smile while she eyed me over. I could tell she wasn't happy I was in her home.

"Thank you for um, letting me stay here." I said with my best attempt at a warm smile.

Taking a sip of her drink she sighed. "Well I didn't have much of a choice now did I?"

Ouch. She had a slight Irish accent making her words sound beautiful even if they were meant to make me feel unwelcome.

"Yea, well I didn't have much of a choice either." I muttered back. She furrowed her brow at my comment, taking another sip. I pulled out one of the seats at the island while I looked around the home, taking in the minimal decorations and architecture. It was a gorgeous home, like something from a blog or magazine.

"He's not here." She commented.

"Oh, yea he um, went to get some of my things."

Putting the mug down on the granite counter tops, she took in a deep breath through her nose. I could tell she wasn't a fan of me and the only reason I was here was because her son didn't give her a choice.

"Mrs. Byrne, thank you for allowing me in your home. I know the circumstances aren't the best-"

She scoffed, interrupting me. "Circumstances aren't the best?"

I bit my lip, not knowing what to say. I don't know if she knows about Declan, about the crime families or my part in all of this. I was afraid to speak, not wanting to say something to cause a wedge between her and her son if she was completely in the dark about all of this.

There was a long silence between the two of us, the only thing that broke it was the sound of the oven dinging behind her. She took another deep breath in through her nose before she let out a sigh and bowed her head. She stayed like that for a moment and then shook her head.

"I'm not stupid. I know about my son. He's been roped in with them since he was a boy." She said. "I'm sure you think all of the opulence is wonderful. The things he buys you, the places he takes you but it's all blood money."

"Oh, Mrs. Byrne, no." I started but she held up her hand to silence me.

"You need to stay away from my son."

"Please, listen. It's not like that, my dad was forced into marrying a woman who has ties to one of the heads of a rival syndicate. They were going to kill me if my dad didn't comply. My dad threatened to go to the police and they..." I choked on my words, trying so hard not to cry. I breathed in through my nose and let it out through parted lips. "They killed him. And... and now they're after me. Mrs. Byrne, Declan is trying to protect me."

Mrs. Byrne stayed silent, taking in my story. It was like she was trying to look into my soul to see if I was telling the truth. This probably wasn't what she expected to hear. She thought I was only interested in her son because of his wealth.

"My name is Shelly." She said.

"I'm Scarlett." I answered, holding out my hand for her to shake. She ignored the gesture, making me pull my hand back, dejected.

She turned and started to rummage through the kitchen cabinets, pulling out a cutting board and a knife before she went to her fridge. "Do you like Shepards pie, Scarlett?"

I nodded my head. "I do. May I help you?"

It was quiet between Shelly and I at first, understandably. Though I told her the truth I could tell she didn't quite buy it. It didn't help that I was terrible at small talk. Most of my generic questions were met with very basic answers or she ignored me. By the time all of the vegetables had been chopped and added in with the meat she had been browning in a pan I stopped with the get-to-know-you questions.

I was sitting in my seat at the kitchen island picking nervously at my fingers while she worked on the rest of the meal with her back to me. She poured a glass of red before she added some to the cooking food on the stove.

"Would you like a glass?" She offered, turning around with the bottle in her hand.

"No, thank you." I answered with a tight lipped smile.

"Not a drinker?" Shelly questioned, walking to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water. She handed it to me and got back to her recipe.

I chuckled dryly remembering the recent spell of terrible decisions I made the last few times I had anything to drink.

She took the pot of boiling potatoes off of the stove and drained it in the sink then brought it over to the island along with a potato masher, butter and milk.

"Listen," she said, rolling up her sleeves and starting to mash. "I apologize for being so off-putting. We never wanted this for our son, Liam and I. He was trying to do right by us, make an honest living for his family. He wanted so desperately to make a better life for us and make sure that no one found out about Declan. Liam, he loved his son..."

She must have been reliving something in her mind because she went silent, her face turning down into a scowl while her tears fell down her cheeks. She smashed the potatoes masher into the pot harder and harder, causing the pot to slide around on the counter. Shelly stopped and let out a trembling breath.

She turned and grabbed for a paper towel on the counter behind her to wipe away her tears and then continued to busy herself with dinner, not bothering to continue with what she was saying. It must have been so hard having to be left alone to raise a child all on her own.

I took a sip of the water and then immediately chugged the rest. I hadn't realized just how thirsty I had been. Declan's words from the other night at The Atlantic started to swirl in my head. The more I went over the conversation, the more confused I became. He had spoke about his dad with such distain yet Shelly seemed like she didn't hate him at all. And protect Declan? Protect him form what?

"Are you lying to him?" I shocked myself with how blunt I was.

She stood there wide eyed before her look turned sour. "Excuse me?"

"Declan said you couldn't stand your husband. That he was awful to you two and all you did was fight."

My words struck a chord in her. "Don't you say a word about my husband. How dare you!"

"What were you protecting him from? How did you not notice him getting involved with a crime family?" I pressed.

"Enough." She seethed, her hands turning to fists at her sides.

"No." I shot back. "You're lying to your son, he-"

"Enough!" She screamed in a fit of rage making me jump out of my chair at the island and step away from her. Shelly ran her hands through her hair to try and calm herself the same way Declan does. She finally looked back up at me, her lips parted as she took in deep breaths, trying to control herself.

"Do not say another word against my late husband again or so help me, I will hand you over to Desmond myself." She threatened.

"How, how do you know about Des-"

"He's the reason my husband is dead." Her words were like a punch in the gut. Desmond, the head of the syndicate, the man who controls Declan is the reason why his dad is dead?

"Does Declan know?" I asked, sitting back down on the stool.

Shelly shook her head no.

"Liam was in line to takeover the family. Desmond and his friend Cain were furious, they thought they should have been chosen. They framed Liam, making it look like he had stole money from the head of the family. They brought him into our home, they threw him beaten and bloody on our kitchen table. He..." she choked on her sobs, clutching a tea towel to her face as she tried to stop her tears. "He was barely alive."

"We had kept Declan a secret form them, the whole family. Liam was trying to get out of the business, to become a good, descent man to support our family. He didn't want his son being brought into it. But Declan had come around the corner and saw his dad laying there and screamed. Desmond and Cain saw him and that was the end, Declan was theirs.

"Desmond started showing up at the house almost every day, giving Declan gifts and treats, anything to get Declan to like him. He would whisper things to Declan, telling him how bad of a man his daddy was, trying to turn him against Liam. Desmond told Liam that Declan would be a member of the family and there was nothing he could do to stop them. Liam was forced to watch Desmond manipulate his son.

"That was the only time we fought. I begged him to do something, anything to get them to leave our son alone but there was nothing he could do, not since the Captain thought Liam had double crossed him. They killed him a few months later. After that, Desmond would come around daily to keep an eye on me, he was scared I'd go to the police. He wouldn't let us leave the neighborhood we lived in, made up a story about me having a heart condition, saying it was impossible for me to work so he would provide for us. As Declan grew up, he looked at Desmond like some benevolent being even though he was the reason his dad was dead."

She took her glass of wine from the counter in front of me and finished what was left, slamming the glass back down on the countertop. My heart was breaking for her, truly. Her husband was taken from her and her son was brainwashed into this life and there was nothing she could do about it.

I wanted so badly to hug her.

"Shelly, I'm sorry, I... I can't even begin to fathom what you've been through." I said, grabbing her hand that she had on the counter next to the empty glass. I squeezed her fingers gently, trying to get her to believe me.

"You can never tell him. Promise me, Scarlett. Declan cannot know, I'm afraid he'll do something rash and get himself killed. I can't lose him too." She begged, grabbing my hand with both of hers.

"Promise me," Her tears started up again but before I could say anything to try and comfort her we heard the lock turning on the front door of the house. Shelly quickly let go of my hand and dried her tears on the back of her sleeve, changing her demeanor as if nothing had happened.

Her well rehearsed change of emotion gave me whiplash while I sat there stunned. Declan was already walking into the open living space when I turned to see who had entered the house. He looked tired, dark circle were under his eyes and his hair was disheveled.

Declan let the strap of the bag slide off of his shoulder so that it landed on the sand colored couch and worked to take off his coat. Shelly gave me a look, silently begging me not to mention any of this while he wasn't watching.

"Ma," he said softly, coming up to Shelly and giving her a quick hug. "I hope Scarlett hasn't been giving you a hard time." He said louder, giving me a sly smile.

"Not at all. She's been very helpful with making dinner." Shelly sniffed, blinking away the last of her tears. Shelly continued on with getting dinner ready.

Declan tried to take the pot and wooden spoon from her hands, "Let me get that, Ma."

"Oh stop." She brushed him off. "Go help Scarlett with setting the table."

I followed him to the dining table while he carried the plates, cutlery and napkins. We stayed quiet as we put out the plates, well more like I watched as Declan did all the work. My head was still spinning from everything.

"Scars?"

I shook my head, trying to bring myself back to planet Earth. "Yea?"

"Are you okay? You're glaring at the table like it did something to you." Declan chuckled.

"I'm fine." I answered with an awkward, tight lipped smile.

He furrowed his brows, knowing I was deep in my head thinking about something. He didn't have a chance to question me though because we both saw Shelly walking over with a bottle of wine and three glasses.

Like an eager child wanting to help, he quickly took the things from her hands.

"Declan," She said with a sigh. "I can do things."

"Yes, and I can help." He took the wine opener from her hand and got to work opening the bottle. He leaned in a little closer and spoke softly, "You shouldn't be drinking this with your heart condition."

It was meant to be between the two of them but I could still hear it. My heart tore in my chest as I watched Shelly's face turn to a pained expression for a second, then quickly brushed it off with a smile. She had to live for years having her son dote on her thinking she had a heart condition and could say nothing in fear it would get him killed.

"The doctor says one or two glasses every now and again won't hurt. And besides, I don't have company very often." She said, winking at me.

Dinner was over but the three of us were still sitting at the table, sipping our drinks. Declan and his mother were talking and laughing, every once in a while asking me my thoughts on whatever topic they were on. I'd nod and smile, give an answer I thought they'd want to hear and then went back to being quiet.

Rolling my glass around in my hand, I watched the red liquid swirl as I chewed my lip. How can she hide something from her son for most of his life? Especially when it's about his father. But then again, look what my dad hid from me most of my life. His marriage was arranged all so his business could be taken over by evil men. He couldn't do anything about it for fear they would kill me.

"Fuck." He groaned under his breath as he was looking down at his phone screen.

"Language." Shelly chided. Declan sunk down in his seat, giving his mother a sorry expression.

He looked between the concerned looks on both of our faces, raising a brow. We knew it meant something with the syndicate. Shelly had to pretend like she knew nothing and I had to pretend like the conversation we had earlier didn't happen all while Declan had to pretend like it was something to do with a job he'd made up. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife.

"Right. Sorry, Ma. I'll clean up dinner." He said, getting up and quickly grabbing our plates. "I'm gonna need to steal Scarlett then. We have some things to talk about."

I fought to choke down the wine I had in my mouth. Looking over at Shelly, she raised her eyebrow at me. This was worse than one of those "hey, we need to talk" texts.

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