Chapter 25 Silas
SILAS
It’s taken me years to get to this point, but all the fighting, torture, and fucking anarchy will be worth it. Morana is so close. I can feel it. This time—this fucking time—will be the one to bring my sister home. Once I have her safe with Tempest and Evie, the real work begins.
I’m not sure when Evie worked her way into my inner circle.
I don’t fall in love—I’m not sure love is something I can feel—but Evie fucking blinks at me and I want to drop to my knees and worship her.
She’s an addiction, one that has slithered into my veins, twisted inside my mind, coiled itself around my heart.
But I can’t afford another weakness, not when Morana is this close.
It’s just an itch, I tell myself—not really believing the lie, but needing to all the same. Once I ruin her for all others, I’ll be able to walk away. Evie will move on, marry some reliable nine-to-five type, and everything will be as it’s supposed to.
That gnawing twist in my stomach returns at the thought of another man with her, hearing her deepest desires, causing that beautiful fucking blush to stain her cheeks, but I shove the thoughts aside and quicken my pace through the gardens of my brother’s estate.
My boots pound along the water-stones beside manicured roses and European-style reflection pools as I approach the house—villa.
I don’t have a house in Los Angeles, but Bane does.
Staying true to his Italian heritage, he’s built a villa in the heart of Bel Air, complete with soaring archways, intricate stonework, and wrought-iron balconies overlooking manicured lawns.
The whole thing feels overdone to me, but Bane looks right at home with his tanned skin, strong nose, and short dark hair savoring a Chianti on the main patio.
I catch a glimpse of blonde hair and spot Erik restocking the outside bar with bottles of liquor.
His cocky smirk is dimmed when he thinks no one’s watching, softening the asshole vibes he usually gives off.
Being there that night—when my mother ran out of cash and coke and offered her youngest daughter up—I know he feels the clock ticking as much as I do.
Each of my brothers has played his part well.
Mavros is always looking for a reason to break bones—that crazy fucker is addicted to pain—and I’m pretty sure Noctis has a sick obsession with catching the bad guy.
I’d say it’s a hero complex, but it’s not the saving people part that gets him off. It’s the puzzle.
I wonder about the other three sometimes. Dominic is ruled by his lust, but Adrian’s greed and Bane’s gluttony can be twisted into drive if the settings are right.
The linen button-down and navy blue pants Bane wears fit him perfectly. He was born in Sicily, and even though he refuses to talk about it, we all know he ran from something.
“What’s with the frown?” Erik asks, sliding a glass of amber liquid my way. I step between Noctis and Bane, joining them at the bar as Erik pours himself a matching glass. “We’re celebrating tonight. Even Noctis turned off the screens.”
“Correction,” he says, his dark jeans and black T-shirt a contrast to Bane’s sleek style. “My program is analyzing all available information and compiling a list of our top suspects as we speak. It feels different this time.” Noctis lets out a low breath, teal-blue eyes cutting to mine.
“Like pieces are clicking into place,” Erik adds, draining his glass in one swig before reaching for the bottle to refill it.
“I too am ready for this to be over and the next phase of our lives to begin,” Bane muses.
Lifting a brow, I share a silent look with Noctis and Erik.
Bane is the picture of self-control. He craves order, sticks to a strict regimen of meal preps, working out, and scheduled fucking.
If one piece of his perfectly planned day is derailed…
well, Bane doesn’t just lose that mask of control—he shatters all traces of civility.
Moving on to an unexpected future would normally have him spiraling. I wonder what’s changed.
“We haven’t found Morana yet,” I breathe, fingers flexing around the half-empty glass as my brothers turn to face me. I drain the rest of it before meeting their stares, wishing Mavros, Adrian, and Dominic would hurry the fuck up already.
“Where’s Noctis?” Tempest’s voice calls from inside the house. She passes through the open glass doors, strolling toward us, but my gaze slips past her and lands on Evie.
Her hair is pulled back in a high bun, and there’s a splash of freckles over her pale cheeks, slightly pink after spending the day in the sun.
“Right here,” Noctis says, offering my sister an easy grin as if we weren’t just having a conversation that could change everything.
“Good.” Tempest beams before jerking a thumb behind her. “Evie needs your help blocking an asshole who won’t leave her alone.”