And I need her whole.
I dial Luca.
"Get the car," I say. "We’re going hunting."
"And the girl, Boss?"
"Activate the perimeter lockdown. Level 5. If a squirrel crosses the lawn, I want it vaporized."
I hang up.
I look at the empty conservatory.
I am going to war. And this time, I’m not just fighting for territory.
I’m fighting for her heart.
And I will burn the world down before I let anyone else touch it.
CHAPTER 17
THE GHOST IN THE MACHINE
POV: IVY
The silence of the Estate is different when he is gone.
When Silas is here, the silence is heavy, charged with his presence like the air before a lightning strike. It’s a predatory silence, waiting to pounce. But now that the armored SUVs have disappeared down the winding driveway, swallowing the gravel crunch in their wake, the silence feels... hollow.
It feels like abandonment.
I stand at the window of the master bedroom, watching the dust settle on the road. The iron gates have swung shut, locking with a mechanical finality that vibrates through the ground.
I am alone.
Well, not entirely. There are guards patrolling the perimeter—faceless men in tactical gear holding rifles that look like insects from this height. And there is Marta, somewhere in the bowels of the house, probably polishing silver or sharpening knives.
But effectively, I am the only living thing in this glass and stone fortress.
I look down at my left ankle. The platinum band glints innocently in the afternoon sun. It looks like jewelry. It feels like a shackle.
110 beats per minute.
That’s what he said earlier. My heart was racing then.
I place a hand over my chest.Thump. Thump. Thump.It’s slower now. Maybe 80. Is he watching? Is he sitting in the back of that war machine, staring at a screen, monitoring the rhythm of my life while he goes to end someone else’s?
"Check it," I whisper to the empty room. "Watch me."
I begin to pace.
The house feels too big. The ceilings are too high. Without Silas’s dark gravity to anchor the space, I feel like I might float away, untethered.
I walk out of the bedroom. The hallway stretches out before me, a tunnel of shadows and portraits. I walk past the guest rooms, past the linen closet. I stop at the top of the stairs.
Down there, to the left, is the library. To the right, the dining room.
And down the east corridor... his office.
