He didn’t try to stop me.
I crossed to the tall shelves lining the far wall, scanning the spines of the books. Titles in other languages. Folders marked only by date. A thick volume with the word “Aegis” embossed in cracked leather. Another with no title at all, just a burn mark through the center.
“How long?” I asked without turning around. “How long have you been … whatever this is?”
Silas exhaled like the breath hurt. “Longer than I should’ve.”
I faced him again. “And the others? Ryker? Marcus? Do they know about your mother?”
He shook his head once. “Not yet.”
“Why?” My voice broke on the word. “Why hide it from your own brothers? Don’t you all work together?”
His gaze didn’t flinch. “Because this is personal. Something they’re not ready to know about.”
“What does that even mean?” I demanded. “What the hell could be worth keeping from your family when everything is already falling apart?”
His answer was slow. Measured. “Because I’m not trying to win their war, Portia.”
A beat.
“I’m trying to end it.”
The quiet after that wasn’t peace. It was fallout.
I stared at him like I didn’t know him. Maybe I didn’t. Maybe the Silas I’d kissed and made love to was a fiction, a fever dream conjured by want and desperation and the ache of being needed. Because this man?
This man was strategy wrapped in muscle and sorrow. This man had built a fortress from what—lies? This man had blood on his hands and still thought himself clean.
“I don’t know how to be around you right now,” I whispered.
“You don’t have to be anything but alive,” he said, stepping toward me again. “That’s the only thing that matters to me.”
My back hit the edge of a table. I hadn’t realized I’d been retreating. I clutched the folder tighter.
“I need to check on Bea,” I said, the thought crashing into me like a cold slap. “She was at the cake tasting. If someone put that tracker in my shoe, then maybe?—”
“She’s safe.”
The words hit me harder than I expected.
“She is?” My voice was sharp, hopeful, trembling.
Silas nodded. “Two of my guys found her at the hotel, after Monte. They escorted her here.”
“Here? As in this house?”
He nodded again. “She’s in one of the guest suites in the south wing. Shaken. But safe.”
Relief hollowed me out. I slumped back against the table, knees soft. My eyes burned.
“But why would someone go after me?” I asked. “Why now?”
His jaw flexed. “Because of me. Because I made you a target the moment I touched you.”
“No,” I said, my voice hoarse. “You made me a target the moment you kept secrets.”
He flinched. Just barely. But I saw it.
