Watching them is like witnessing a language I don’t speak but somehow understand. Every glance is loaded. Every pause weighted. Time itself seems to suspend when their hands finally meet—just for a second—before they pull apart again, business as usual.
It’s beautiful. And a little unbearable. Not because it makes me feel left out. But because it shows me what’s possible.
I glance at Justin then—really look at him—at the way he moves through this space with quiet authority, at how easily he belongs here, how naturally he steps into care and leadership and calm. The way he didn’t let that phone call fracture the moment. The way he chose presence instead.
Something settles inside me. For so long, I’ve lived in anticipation of impact. Waiting for the interruption. The disaster. The inevitable fall. But this morning—this kitchen, this food, these people—feels solid.
Not perfect, but close. And for the first time in a very long time, I don’t feel like I’m preparing for what comes next. I feel like I’m allowed to stay right here in this beautiful moment.
Sitting at the kitchen counter. Among laughter, and people who choose steadiness over fear. Even knowing that Silas is on his way. Even knowing that things could turn in a minute. For now, this is enough. And I let myself have that.
39
JUSTIN
If it weren’t important, Silas wouldn’t be here. That much I know without needing to be told.
I let him up in the private lift. Titan and I are already waiting when the doors slide open, the low hum of the penthouse settling into silence as the lift locks into place.
Silas Mercer steps out. All six-foot-four of him. He fills the space immediately—all broad shoulders and solid build. He has the kind of body that doesn’t come from gyms or aesthetics but from years of function. His posture is relaxed, but it’s the relaxed of someone who is never off-duty.
He’s ex–Army Corps. Highly trained in what he does, and very effective.
Highly dangerous, if pointed in the wrong direction.
His eyes move once around the room, precise and unhurried, taking in the layout without lingering. He registers Titan immediately and gives him a brief nod. Silas joined Goliath as Titan was stepping back, so they don’t share the history he and I do, but respect has never been an issue with him.
Then his attention settles on me.
“Justin,” he says. Even. Unremarkable. As if this were any other morning. When I know it’s not.
“Silas.”
We shake hands, and I turn to make introductions—only to realize Bethany has already stepped forward. Too fast, like her body moved before her brain could catch up. She stops short just in time, close enough that she has to tip her head back to look up at him. And for a split second—just one—her composure completely deserts her. Mouth parting. Eyes flicking up. Down. Up again.
I can practically hear her jaw hit the floor.
Bethany isn’t easily impressed—nothing rattles her, nothing knocks her off balance—but the second she really takes Silas in, that confidence slips. Just for a beat. Long enough to tell that Silas Mercer is one of those things.
“Hi,” she waves, a little too brightly, like she’s trying to convince herself she’s fine. She is not fine. “Wow. You’re… tall.”
Silas doesn’t step back. Nor does he lean in. He just looks down at her, one brow lifting slightly, the faintest hint of amusement cutting through his otherwise unreadable expression.
“I can see that,” Silas replies.
Titan snorts under his breath.
Bethany clears her throat, straightens her spine, and makes a visible effort to retrieve her dignity. “Sorry,” she adds, waving a hand vaguely at his entire person. “I just—wasn’t expecting you to be so…large.”
Silas’s mouth twitches.
I step in quickly, before she says something that requires medical intervention or a formal apology.
“Bethany.” My voice is a warning. “This is Silas. And he’s dangerous. Radioactive dangerous.”
She blinks once. Twice. Then smiles—wide, unfazed, and very much still affected.
“Well,” she responds. “Then I’ll be sure not to stand too close.”
