His After The Heartbreak (BL)-Chapter 43: Wrong Move

Chapter 43

Wrong Move

Declan's POV

Beatrice was a damn fool. A reckless, arrogant bitch who thought she had power just because she could run her mouth. One more mistake from her, and I'd make sure she never lived to make another.

I leaned back in my seat, my fingers tapping rhythmically against the leather armrest as my driver sped through the darkened streets. My mind was already on the next order of business.

Those bastards who had kidnapped Beatrice—they needed a lesson. A brutal, unforgettable reminder that no one messed with me or what was mine.

"Turn the car around," I ordered, my voice calm but laced with authority.

The driver hesitated. "Sir, going back there isn't safe—"

I turned my head slowly, fixing him with a cold stare. "If you want to act like a coward, do it somewhere else. Not in my car."

The tension thickened. The man swallowed hard and nodded, wisely choosing silence over stupidity.

Good. I didn't need weak men around me.

By the time we arrived at the abandoned warehouse, the sound of gunfire echoed through the air. My men were still exchanging bullets with those idiots. A pointless display of bravado.

"Children," I muttered under my breath.

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I stepped out of the car, reaching inside my coat for my gun—a custom-made Desert Eagle .50 AE. Heavy, powerful, and precise. Just like me.

I cocked the weapon, feeling the familiar weight in my hand, and walked forward without a hint of hesitation. My men saw me and stepped aside. The enemies? They weren't as lucky.

One shot. Right through the skull.

Another. Straight to the heart.

One by one, they fell, their screams cut short as I executed them with practiced ease. Blood splattered onto the cold, cracked pavement, but I barely noticed. My focus was on the one man I had come here for.

And there he was.

Standing a few feet away, terrified.

His eyes met mine, and in that moment, I saw it—the sheer panic, the realization that he had made the worst mistake of his life.

Then, like a true coward, he ran.

I smirked. Predictable.

I didn't rush. There was no need to. I already knew exactly where he was headed—his office. His so-called sanctuary.

By the time I reached the door, he was scrambling inside, slamming it shut in a pathetic attempt to lock himself in.

I raised my leg and kicked.

The door swung open with such force that he stumbled back, crashing against his desk. His face was pale, sweat dripping down his temples as he stared at me like I was the devil himself.

I supposed I was.

"You came for my son's mother," I said, my voice eerily calm as I stepped into the room. "You thought that was a good idea?"

He swallowed hard but said nothing.

"You came for her!" I repeated, my voice rising. "How stupid are you?"

Still, silence.

"You really thought you'd walk away from this?" I laughed, shaking my head. "Tell me—was it a crime to hire you for a job? Did I wrong you in some way?"

Finally, he found his voice. "That's what you get for trusting too easily," he sneered.

The corner of my mouth twitched. Wrong answer.

I pulled the trigger.

The bullet tore through his leg, and he collapsed with a scream, clutching the bleeding wound as he writhed on the floor.

"You should choose your words more carefully," I advised, stepping closer. "Now tell me—why did you come for her?"

He gritted his teeth, his face twisted in pain, but still refused to speak.

I sighed. Then fired again—this time, into his other leg.

His scream echoed through the office, louder, more desperate. Blood pooled around him, staining the floorboards a deep crimson.

I crouched down, gripping his chin and forcing him to look at me. "Talk."

His breath came in ragged pants, but this time, he did.

"Because I wanted revenge," he gasped. "For what you did to me. For what you took from me."

I frowned. "Took?"

His eyes burned with hatred. "You stole my fiancée! You thought I forgave you? You thought I just moved on?" His voice cracked, filled with fury. "After you ordered me to scare your son away with that gunshot, I planted a tracker on his car. I followed them. I found out where they were staying. And I waited. Waited for the perfect moment to take what mattered most to you."

He let out a breathless laugh, even as he trembled in pain. "I was going to kill her. I wanted you to feel what I felt when you took her from me."

I stared at him for a long moment. Then, to his shock, I started laughing.

Low. Amused. Mocking.

Shaking my head as I stared down at him. The sheer stupidity of this man was almost amusing. Almost.

"You actually thought killing Beatrice would hurt me?" I repeated slowly, savoring the ridiculousness of his assumption.

I took a step closer, my gun still in my hand, my fingers itching to end this pathetic excuse of a man. "You really thought that if she died, I'd fall apart? That I'd be shattered?" I let out another laugh, low and dangerous. "You dumb, dumb bastard."

I crouched down slightly, watching the pain twist his face. "Let me enlighten you on something. If you had any brains, you would've just killed her and saved me the trouble." I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Beatrice is nothing to me. She never was. The only reason she's still breathing is because she gave birth to my son, and even that is just an unfortunate coincidence."

He blinked, his face contorted with confusion and agony

"You should've just slit her throat and dumped her body in a ditch somewhere," I continued, standing up straight. "No calls. No threats. Just silence." I shrugged. "If you had done that, I would've thanked you. Hell, I might've even sent flowers to your grave as a sign of appreciation before I put a bullet in your skull."

I gave him a cold, amused smirk. "Did you think she was my weakness? That I'd lose sleep over her?" I scoffed. "Let me tell you something, and listen well—Beatrice is nothing more than an inconvenience to me.

If you had killed her, it would've been a relief. The only reason I'm even here is because you were dumb enough to involve me in your pathetic little revenge plot."

"You wanted to hurt me, didn't you?" I tilted my head, watching his chest rise and fall in panic.

"But you failed. You picked the wrong person. If you wanted to break me, you should've aimed for my son." I took another step forward, my gun now inches from his forehead. "But you were too much of a coward to do that, weren't you?"

I let out a sigh, shaking my head again. "You wasted your time. You wasted my time. And now..." I cocked the gun. "You're about to waste your last breath."

"As for your slut of a fiancée—" I smirked. "I didn't take her from you. She chose me. She ran to me because she knew I was the better man."

His face twisted with rage, and despite his injuries, he lunged at me.

Another mistake.

Before he could reach me, I fired one last shot.

Straight to the head.

His body jerked before collapsing to the floor with a lifeless thud. Blood seeped from the wound, his eyes frozen open in shock.

I smirked down at him. "Send my regards to the devil in hell," I murmured. "I'll join him soon enough."

Then, without a second glance, I turned and walked away.