Chapter 14
Fourteen
Silas
A n hour later, I’m in the building’s gym, hitting the speed bag, releasing as much of this pent-up energy as I can. Between lying to Hallie’s face about the night I fucked her while she was drunk and half-asleep, and my team’s concerns, I’m feeling more stressed than usual.
I’d wanted to tell Hallie the truth, but the danger she’s in makes this complicated. I need her to trust me right now. Part of me thrills at the memory, at having claimed her so completely. But another part aches at the hurt and confusion marring her beautiful face.
I hear my phone chime with a text message. Cain. He says he found something, and it’s not good. I rush out of the gym and ride the elevator up to the private floor with our offices.
The air in the room is electrified with a silent fury, the kind that crackles beneath the surface of my skin, begging for release. My fingers clench the edge of the polished mahogany table, an anchor in the storm of my thoughts. I barely register the coolness of the wood against my palms, all my attention riveted on Cain, who stands across from me like a pillar of calm in the chaos.
“Report,” I growl, the word slicing through the tension. My voice doesn't betray the tumultuous mix of fear and rage brewing inside me. Fear for Hallie's safety. Rage at the Syndicate daring to target her.
Cain meets my gaze head-on, his blue eyes sharp as ice shards. There's no flinching, no hesitation—it's what makes him my right hand, why I trust him when trust doesn't come easy.
“Silas,” he begins, his tone even, every syllable measured. “I've been tracking their comms. They're cautious, but patterns emerge. They want Hallie, we knew that much. The 'why' remains unclear.”
His words hit me, a series of precise strikes. I lean back slightly, my grip loosening but my focus sharpening. It's a dance we know well—the push and pull of obtaining knowledge, the essential steps of staying ahead. We move to the same rhythm, two shadows intertwined in purpose.
“Patterns,” I echo, my mind latching onto the lead. “Show me.”
Cain nods once, sleek efficiency in motion. He reaches into his jacket, producing a slim device that casts a hologram between us. Lines, dots, and coded messages float in the dim light.
“Here,” he points to a cluster of data points, “and here. Movements suggest they're closing in. Time is running out. They speak in code, but I’m confident they’ve made plans for Hallie’s abduction.”
I stand, movements full of purpose, already plotting our next move. The Syndicate may think they hold the cards, but they haven't seen our hand yet. And I'll be damned if they take anything—or anyone—from me.
My breath catches, a silent snarl building in my gut. The room seems to close in, the air thick with a danger that has now been named. I lean back, an attempt to distance myself from the news that claws at my insides. But there's no escaping the visceral fear that grips me, the sudden vulnerability that comes with knowing she is a target.
“Plans?” My voice is a low growl, the word barely squeezing through my clenched teeth. I want details, specifics; I want to obliterate this threat before it can manifest into reality.
“Blueprints, timelines,” Cain continues, unperturbed by the storm brewing within me. He's the eye of the tempest, cool and collected as ever.
“Damn it.” The words explode from me, and my fist slams onto the table, the impact sending a jolt up my arm. It's a futile display of anger, yet it barely contains the fierce protectiveness surging through me. Hallie. Her laughter, her defiance, the softness she tries to hide—I'll tear apart anyone who dares to touch her.
“Keep your head, Si,” Cain says, his tone even but firm. “We have the advantage now. We know.”
He's right. We do know. And that knowledge is power—a weapon I intend to wield without mercy.
The room feels colder, sharper, as Cain's words carve through the tension. “They're planning to take her in less than two days.” His voice is a blade—cool, precise.
“Forty-eight hours.” The number echoes in my skull like gunfire. Too close. Too damn soon. Every second now is a ticking bomb, and Hallie is at the center, unknowing, unprepared.
I lean back, trying to quell the storm inside. My hands flex on the table's edge, skin stretched over knuckles white with strain. I have to think, plan—each breath a silent chant to keep the panic at bay.
“Any specifics on how they aim to execute this?” My question is a growl, low and dangerous.
“Standard snatch and grab,” he says, flipping open the folder with a flick of his wrist. “Two teams, one for diversion, another for extraction. They've been casing her place, know her routines.”
“Then we change the game.” My mind shifts gears, pieces falling into place with lethal clarity.
“Agreed.” Cain closes the folder, eyes like ice chips. “We'll need to be discreet. Any visible increase in security might spook them into action sooner.”
“I don’t mean increased security.”
“What?”
“It has to be a surprise. If I ask her to leave, she’ll say no. She has work. She barely knows me and won’t trust me enough.”
“You can’t really be thinking . . . ” His words trail off, and he knows.
“I’m going to take her first.”