Chapter 20 – Silas - Burn to Ash #2
The door closes behind me but doesn't lock. Dom is right outside, watching through the crack.
Lydia is standing by the window. Turns when she hears me.
Our eyes meet.
I keep my face neutral. Walk to the table. Set the tray down. The dishes clink—loud in the quiet room.
"Dinner," I say flatly. Professional.
Lydia moves toward the table slowly, and she sits down.
She doesn't look at me. Just reaches for the glass of water.
And she speaks. "Thank you."
Normal volume, sounds tired. Expected.
She then lifts the glass to her lips. Takes a sip.
And in that moment—when the glass is at her lips, when the sound of water and the clink of dishes create just enough noise—she leans forward slightly.
Her lips barely move.
"Elias Voss. Call him. Please."
A whisper that’s barely audible.
But I hear it.
I don't look at her, I don't react.
I just nod once. So small it could be nothing.
Then I leave.
Dom is waiting in the hallway, watching.
"She say anything?"
"Just 'thank you.' For the food."
Dom studies me. "And?"
"And nothing. She's quiet."
He smirks. "Good. Keep it that way. Oh, and Silas?"
I wait.
"Keep the key. Might need it again."
He walks away, leaving me standing there.
With the key.
Again.
I pocket it slowly.
Elias Voss.
I don't know who that is.
But Lydia does.
And she risked everything to tell me.
I take my position against the wall.
And I repeat the name in my head.
Over and over.
So I don't forget.
The next few hours crawl.
I stand. I listen. I force myself not to move.
Around 11 PM, the penthouse is quieter. Most of the building has settled into sleep.
I hear Lydia pacing again. Restless. Then silence. Then movement near the door.
She's sitting close to it, I think.
I lean my head back against the wall.
And I whisper. Barely audible.
"I'm here."
Not sure if she can hear.
But I need to say it.
At midnight, Dom returns.
He's carrying a glass of whiskey. Offers it to me.
"It's going to be a long night. Might as well enjoy it."
I shake my head. "I'm good."
He shrugs. Takes a sip himself. "Suit yourself."
He leans against the wall beside me, studying me.
"You ever wonder what she's really thinking in there?" he asks.
"Not my job to wonder."
"Cold. I like that." He grins. "Drazen needs people who can stay detached. Some of the guys, they get soft around her. You're not like that, are you?"
"I do my job."
He watches me for another moment. Then pushes off the wall.
"Good. Keep it that way."
He walks back to the elevator.
And I'm alone again.
At 1:17 AM, Dom comes back one more time.
"You still have the key?"
I pull it from my pocket. Show him.
"Good." He doesn't take it. "Keep it. You're here all night. Might need it."
Another test.
Will I use it when he's not around?
Will I think I'm alone and slip?
I pocket the key.
"Understood."
He leaves.
And the trap gets tighter.
At 2:43 AM, I hear it.
Soft crying from inside the room.
Not loud. Not sobbing.
Just quiet, broken sounds that slip through the door like ghosts.
My hand goes to my pocket.
To the key.
I could open the door.
Just for a second.
Just to—
No.
I pull my hand away.
Clench it into a fist so tight my nails dig into my palm.
The cameras are watching.
Drazen is watching.
And if I open that door, if I go to her, if I try to comfort her—
We both die.
So I stand here.
And I listen to her cry.
The sound cuts through me like a blade.
Every sob. Every broken breath.
I slide down the wall. Sit on the floor.
Listening.
Unable to help.
This is the cost.
This is what being undercover means.
You watch people suffer and you don't help them.
Because helping them gets everyone killed.
I close my eyes.
And I hate myself more than I've ever hated anyone.
At 4:32 AM, the crying stops.
Silence.
Then I feel it.
A shift.
She's on the other side of the door.
I don't know how I know. I just do.
I can feel her there. Close. Maybe leaning against it. Maybe sitting with her back pressed to the wood.
I look at the cameras.
Still recording.
Still watching.
The key is in my pocket.
I could open the door.
I could—
Stop.
I take a breath.
And I move.
Slowly. Carefully.
I cross the hallway and lean against her door.
Back pressed to the wood.
Same as her.
Two inches between us.
And a key in my pocket I can't use.
I close my eyes.
And I stay there.
For an hour.
Maybe more.
Until the sky outside the hallway window starts to lighten.
Until I hear her breathing even out on the other side.
Until I know she's finally asleep.
And then I step away.
Back to my post.
The key still heavy in my pocket.
Unused.
At 6:47 AM, the elevator dings.
Drazen steps out.
Dressed in a suit like he's heading to a board meeting. Calm and composed. In control.
He stops in front of me.
"Any issues?"
"No."
"She try to talk to you?"
"No. Just thanked me for bringing dinner."
"Did you open the door?"
"Only when Dom brought food."
"And after?"
"No."
He holds out his hand. "The key."
I pull it from my pocket. Hand it to him.
He turns it over in his palm. Studies it. Like he's checking for something.
Wear, use, evidence.
Then he nods.
"Good. You're reliable, Silas. I need more people like you."
He swipes his own keycard. Opens the door.
I don't look inside.
Don't let myself see her.
Drazen steps in. Closes the door behind him.
I hear muffled voices. His, low and steady. Hers, sharp and defiant.
Then silence.
Five minutes later, he emerges.
"You're dismissed," he says. "Go home and get some rest. You did well."
I nod once.
He walks past me toward the elevator.
I don't move until the doors close.
Then I look at the door.
One last time.
And I make a promise.
I'm getting you out.
I don't know how yet.
But I will.
Even if it kills me.
I take the elevator down.
Walk through the pristine lobby.
Out into the early morning light.
The city is just waking up. Traffic starting to build. The sky still gray with dawn.
I get in my car.
Sit there for ten minutes.
Can't bring myself to start the engine.
My hands are shaking.
Not from fear.
From rage.
At Drazen, at Dom. At the Bureau and Naomi's "stay smart, stay patient" bullshit.
At myself.
I hit the steering wheel.
Once.
Twice.
The horn blares and I don't care.
I failed.
They think I passed their test.
They're wrong.
I failed the only test that mattered.
I left her there.
I stood outside her door all night and did nothing.
That's what being undercover means. You watch people suffer and you don't help them. Because helping them gets everyone killed.
But I'm done watching.
I take a breath. Force myself to think.
Naomi wanted me to stay smart. Stay patient. Build the case. Follow protocol.
But patience isn't going to get Lydia out of that room.
And protocol? Protocol is what got her locked in there in the first place.
There's a leak in the Bureau. Someone's feeding Drazen information. Someone's trying to make Lydia take the fall.
And if I wait for Naomi to figure out who, if I wait for official channels, if I follow the rules—
Lydia dies.
For something she didn't do.
While I stand outside her door and do nothing.
No.
Not anymore.
I pull out my phone.
Open the encrypted messaging app.
Type: Need you to find someone. Elias Voss. Get me everything—phone number, address, known associates.
I wait. Three dots appear after twelve minutes.
Tyler: Who is he?
Me: Someone who might be able to help with the Drazen situation.
Tyler: This official?
Me: Does it matter?
Tyler: Yeah. It does. If you're going off-book—
Me: Just get me the information, Tyler.
Long pause.
Tyler: Fine. Give me an hour.
Me: Make it thirty minutes.
Tyler: I'll do what I can.
I set the phone down.
Stare out the windshield at the building behind me.
Harlow Tower.
She's still up there.
Still locked in.
Still alone.
I start the engine.
And I drive, thirty minutes later, I’m at the logistics office, I need my mind occupied, something doing to help keep me in control, I’m supposed to head to the apartment, try to get some sleep, but I just can’t, not while she stays locked up in that penthouse.
Forty-seven minutes after I texted Tyler, his message comes through.
I open it.
Tyler: Elias Voss. Former intelligence contractor. Not currently active. Last known residence: 447 Merchant Street, Unit 12. Phone: [number]. Connected to Lydia Carr—used to be his fixer. Be careful. This guy's connected.
I stare at the screen.
Former intelligence contractor.
No wonder Lydia trusts him.
I save the number.
Take a breath.
And I make the call.
It rings twice.
A voice answers. Deep. Measured. Careful.
"Who is this?"
"My name is Silas Ward. I'm calling about Lydia Carr."
Silence.
Then: "Go on."
"She's in trouble. Drazen has her locked up. He thinks she's the leak to his operations. She's not. But if I don't move fast, he's going to kill her."
Another pause. Longer this time.
"And you are?"
I hesitate. Then: "I’m the one on guard outside her door all night, and I’m someone who's trying to keep her alive."
"That's not a straight answer."
"It's the only one I can provide right now."
Elias exhales slowly. "Where is she?"
"Harlow Tower. East-side penthouse. Top floor. Guarded and heavily surveilled. I can't get her out alone."
"And you think I can?"
"I think you're the only person she trusts, that’s why she told me to call you. And I think you have resources I don't."
He's quiet for a long moment.
Then: "Give me a few hours. Call again in two hours if you don’t hear from me."
"I will."
"And Silas?" His voice hardens. "If this is a setup, if you're working for Drazen, if you're trying to use her to get to me—I'll kill you myself."
"Understood."
He hangs up.
I sit in the silence. Staring at the phone. Two hours. Then I'll know if I have an ally. Or if I'm doing this alone.