CHAPTER 40
THE KNIGHT
EMMA
We endup on the couch.
I don't remember moving there. One moment we're standing in the middle of my apartment, tears drying on both our faces. The next we're sitting side by side, shoulders touching. The silence between us heavy but not hostile.
“About James,” Kai starts.
I tense. “What about him?”
“Someone was paying him. Five thousand a month, plus an apartment here in Silverpoint. His job was to follow you, report on you, destabilize you.” He pauses. “Drive a wedge between us.”
I let that sink in. James wasn't just my bitter ex clinging to the past.
“Who paid him?”
“We're still tracing it. Shell companies, offshore accounts. But we'll find them.”
“Did you hurt him?”
Kai is quiet for a moment. “I hit him once.” His jaw tightens. “I wanted to do more. But it's not my call to make. You get to decide what happens to him.”
I think about James. The years I wasted with him. The way he made me feel small, crazy, unworthy. And now this. A pawn in someone else's game.
“Where is he now?”
“Gone. Left Silverpoint the same night. I have the evidence. Emails, bank statements. If you want to press charges, we can bury him.”
The world feels dark enough already. My parents. My brother. Murdered. James paid to stalk me. Someone out there pulling strings I can't even see.
“Let him disappear,” I say finally. “I don't want to spend another minute of my life on him.” I meet Kai's eyes. “Unless he comes back. Then all bets are off.”
“Fair enough.”
The silence settles again. Then Kai shifts beside me. Almost uncomfortable.
“I've been planning how to destroy Miles.”
I blink. “What?”
“Three scenarios. Different levels of severity. I've been waiting for you to tell me you've had enough, and then...” He shrugs. “Options.”
A laugh escapes me. Unexpected. Almost foreign after everything tonight.
“You have three plans to destroy my coworker?”
“He's been making your life hell.”
I shake my head, but something in my chest loosens. “I'm handling Miles myself. Still, it's good to know there are options.”
“Always.”
The tension breaks a little. We talk. Not about the heavy things—other things. I tell him about my brother's terrible cooking, how my dad would secretly order pizza after his experimental dinners. He tells me about his grandmother, theone who gave him the Rhodes name. How she was the only person in his family who made him feel like he mattered.
he hours slip past. My eyes grow heavy. At some point I lean into him, his arm comes around me, and it feels so natural that I forget to be angry about it.
