Soon, the doorbell rang. I opened it to uniformed workers with tools.
"Mr. Thorne." The lead guy nodded respectfully.
Silas stepped up and gave quick orders. They got to work, quiet and efficient—new locks, reinforced frames, some fancy security system.
I watched from the living room. About twenty minutes, they packed up and left. Just us now.
"How much is this?" I eyed the shiny new stuff, mentally adding up.
"Free." He met my gaze, deep gray eyes intense and warm in the light.
We stood close, close enough to see stubble on his jaw. My breath quickened.
"You didn't have to." I held his eyes. "Bottom line, we're nothing but Olei's biological parents."
He paused at my words, gaze on my face.
"You're Olei's teacher." He said.
I waited for more—that couldn't be the real reason.
But he stopped, and I had no right to pry. I needed distance.
"Thanks," I said, voice rough.
He watched me, something flickering in his eyes. Gone too quickly to catch.
Chapter Sixteen
Silas
When Anthea thanked me, biting her lip, her guard slipping just enough to reveal a softness that made my throat go dry.
I almost didn't stop myself from kissing her right then.
She had no idea the man she was thanking was the same one who'd broken into her apartment, violated her, and come on her face. Adorable.
After that, I didn't bother making excuses to linger. I left. Our current relationship wasn't solid enough for her to say yes, and I didn't want to push too hard. But when she stood at the door watching me leave, I knew my strategy was working. She wasn't bristling with defenses anymore, wasn't fighting me like before—even though she definitely still hated me.
I sat in the car, corner of my mouth still turned up, satisfaction swelling in my chest. Then my phone buzzed, cutting through my thoughts.
"Boss, we got the mole," Marco's voice came through.
My expression went cold instantly. "Take him to the interrogation room. I'm on my way back."
An hour later, the driver pulled into the manor. I carried sleepingOlei inside, walked to his room, and laid him on the bed. Maria would wake him for dinner later. Then I strode toward the interrogation room.
The lights were harsh white, bleaching the color from the man kneeling on the floor until he looked like a corpse.
His name was Gregory. Joined the organization three years ago. Always worked hard, kept his nose clean.
"Tell me," I pressed the gun to his temple, "who paid you to let Vanessa go?"
Gregory's teeth were chattering, cold sweat streaming down his face. "Boss, I-I can explain—"
"I don't have patience." I applied slight pressure with the gun. "You already wasted one chance."
The stench of piss suddenly filled the air. I wrinkled my nose in disgust at the wet stain spreading across his crotch. Pissed himself already?
