Chapter 36
“D id everything come in alright?“ Luis asks during our early evening phone call. There’s an undercurrent of concern that I’ve come to expect from him.
I’m sitting cross-legged on the bathroom floor of the guest room, staring at the spread of discreet packages he sent. They’re neatly arranged in front of me, like pieces of a puzzle I’m desperate not to solve. I had made sure to be the one to answer the door earlier, retrieving the packages from a delivery person dressed as a typical courier, their uniform meant to blend in seamlessly with the countless others that pass through this neighborhood daily.
The contents of the packages are painfully utilitarian: a new laptop preloaded with data extraction programs, spoofing software, and every tool Luis and I agreed I’d need to breach the servers. There’s a portable Ethernet adapter, a high-capacity storage drive, a fingerprint mold, a spoofed keycard for the warehouse, a multi-tool, wireless earbuds, a backup power bank, and a backpack to carry it all. Everything is efficient, precise, ready to execute its role with cold indifference.
“We’ve run through the blueprints a million times,” Luis continues when my silence stretches. “We’ve pinpointed the weakest points of entry. Based on the company’s manufacturing floor plans, we’re confident we know where the servers are housed. With William maintaining a low security profile to avoid drawing attention, this could go smoother than we anticipated.” He says it like a reassurance, but to me, it sounds like a reminder of the inevitable.
“Yeah, it all looks good,” I reply flatly, the words scraping out of me without emotion. My fingers absently trace the edge of the backpack strap.
I’ve been a shell of myself since William’s dinner. Silas has been patient, his concern evident in every lingering look, every quiet question he doesn’t push when I deflect. Even Natalie’s sudden radio silence feels intentional, as if Silas has asked her to give me space. I go through the motions, smiling when I have to, pretending I’m okay long enough to ease his worry. But I can feel him watching me, trying to understand the walls I’ve been putting up, trying to find a way through.
And it’s killing me. He doesn’t deserve this.
“Are you okay?” Luis’s voice cuts through the haze of my thoughts. He doesn’t know everything, but he knows enough. He knows I’ve let Silas get too close. That I’ve let myself get too close.
I clear my throat, forcing out a weak, brittle laugh. “As good as I can be,” I say lightly, but the false note in my voice makes me wince.
Luis hesitates. “Were you able to get your things to the rendezvous spot?”
“Yeah,” I reply quietly. “That part wasn’t an issue.”
“Good,” he says, his tone firm again, anchoring us both back to the plan. “Then we’re ready.”
The words hang heavy between us. I close my eyes, willing myself to believe them. “We’re ready,” I echo.
There’s a brief pause before Luis’s voice softens, just enough to let some of his worry bleed through. “Try to get some sleep, alright? It’s going to be a long night.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. My throat tightens as tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “Yeah. Thanks, Lu. I’ll see you soon.”
When the call ends, the silence in the bathroom presses down on me. My eyes drift to the gear, each piece meticulously chosen, designed to ensure my success. And yet, it all feels like a betrayal.
I take a shaky breath and start packing the items into the backpack, one by one. Each piece feels heavier than the last, the weight of what they represent settling deep in my bones. When everything is inside, I zip the bag closed, the sound loud and jarring in the stillness.
I sling the backpack over my shoulder and stand, unlocking the bathroom door. In the guest room closet, I open the deep drawer where my emergency bag has been hidden these past weeks. A constant reminder that this day was always coming. Now, the bag is gone, already stashed at the rendezvous point, waiting for the moment I disappear.
I place the new bag in its place, shut the drawer, and close the closet door behind me. The action feels final, like locking away a part of myself I’ll never get back.
Knowing it’s nearly dinner time, I decide to make my way downstairs for my final performance. As I descend the back staircase, my fingers trail along the polished banister. The memories of the first time I came down these stairs resurface. Back then, I didn’t know what to expect from Silas or this house. Now, I know too much. And yet, I still feel like I’m trespassing.
The kitchen is aglow with the fading light of the setting sun, the amber hues spilling through the windows. I pause in the doorway, surprised to see Silas leaning against the counter, a glass of whiskey in hand. He isn’t cooking, and Kendall is nowhere in sight. His tie is loosened, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. The sight of him like this makes my chest tighten.
“You’re home early,” I say softly, stepping into the room. My voice feels too loud in the quiet. I lean against the island opposite him, crossing my arms in front of me.
Silas lifts his glass slightly, taking a slow sip before responding. “Kendall’s out tonight,” he says, his tone cool and detached. “I didn’t feel like staying at the office.”
I nod, unsure of what to say. I fidget with the hem of my shirt, trying to fill the silence. “How was work?”
“Fine,” he replies curtly. His answer is dismissive, and it only adds to the tension crackling between us.
Minutes stretch into an eternity as the silence grows thicker. Finally, Silas sets his glass down with a deliberate clink against the counter, the sound sharp in the stillness. Then, he takes a step toward me.
“Scarlett,” he says, his voice steady but edged with something undeniable, unrelenting. “What’s going on?”
I blink, caught off guard. “What do you mean?” His expression darkens, his grip tightening around the edge of the counter.
“ Don’t .”
The single word is razor-edged, cutting clean through the space between us and I flinch before I can stop myself. His eyes flicker at the reaction, hurt flashing across his face. Then, he exhales harshly, dragging a hand through his hair. “Don’t lie to me.” His gaze pins me in place. “You’ve been pulling away, shutting me out. Is this about what my father said? Did he get in your head?”
I shake my head too fast, my throat tightening so hard I can barely get the word out. “No.”
His jaw clenches. “Then what?” His frustration breaks through, shattering any remaining patience. “You barely look at me. Do you think I don’t notice?” He steps closer, his presence pressing against me like a physical weight. “Tell me.”
The command sends a pulse through me—equal parts fear and guilt. I try to swallow, try to force out something convincing, something safe. “I’m just…” My voice wavers, and for a brief moment, I panic. “I’ve been tired. That’s all.”
Silas goes still. Too still.
Then, slowly, he tilts his head, his lips parting around a sound that’s almost a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Tired.” The word is flat, empty, laced with pure disbelief. Then his expression hardens, his teeth clenching. “Bullshit.”
Silas closes the remaining distance between us, eliminating any space I might have used to escape. He grips my arms, not rough, but firm.
“Whatever this is, whatever I did, help me understand.” His voice is a quiet demand, but his eyes betray him—burning, desperate, searching. “Let me fix it.”
My throat constricts so tight that it feels like I might choke everything I can’t say. I shake my head, forcing the words out, trying to reassure him when I know I can’t. “It’s not you, Silas. You’ve been… everything I needed you to be.”
“Then what is it?” His voice fractures.
I suck in a breath, but it shudders on the way out. I wasn’t expecting this. Not for him to poke holes in the dam I’ve worked so hard to keep intact. And tonight, of all nights. But he does. And once the first crack splits, the rest follows too fast for me to stop it.
Tears blur my vision before I even realize they’ve escaped, spilling hot and unrelenting down my cheeks. I press my lips together, but the weight in my chest is unbearable, a pressure that has nowhere to go but out. My body trembling from the sheer effort of holding it all in, but I can’t.
Another strangled breath slips free. My hands shake at my sides as I whisper the only words that feel appropriate for everything I’ve done.
“I’m so sorry.”
For a fleeting moment, his eyes flicker with confusion—like he hadn’t expected an apology, like it doesn’t fit with whatever he thought I’d say. Then, just as quickly, worry creeps in. His grip shifts, less forceful now, as his hands slide down to my elbows, thumbs brushing slow, deliberate strokes against my skin.
He leans in, so close our breaths mix. “What are you sorry for, Scar?”
The moment collapses around me. And the words finally slip free, raw and broken. The craziest and most honest thing I’ve said in four months.
“I think I love you.”
Silas goes completely rigid. A single moment of silence stretches between us before his hands tighten again, hard enough to make me gasp, his voice dropping into something low and almost furious.
“You don’t get to say those words like that.”
He doesn’t have to finish his thought for me to know what he means. Like a death sentence. Like a goodbye.
My chest heaves as I meet his gaze, as I let him see it—all of it. My hands tremble as I reach up, cupping his face, thumbing trace over the rough stubble on his jaw, memorizing him. Even in all his fury, Silas is the most beautiful man I’ve ever known.
“I knew you’d ruin me,” I whisper, almost to myself. “But it was worth it.”
Something in him breaks the moment he hears the resignation in my words. It’s visible, the exact second his resolve shatters. His eyes darken, blazing with something desperate, uncontainable.
And then he’s on me.
The kiss is frantic, brutal. There’s nothing careful about it. No hesitation, no space between us, just heat, need, devastation. His hands grip my waist, pressing into me like he’s trying to pull me inside of him. The edge of the kitchen island digs into my back, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything but him. His touch, his presence, the way he consumes me so completely that I don’t know where I end and he begins.
I don’t want to forget this.
His hands find the hem of my shirt, yanking it up and over my head before tossing it aside. My fingers fumble at his shirt buttons but Silas doesn’t wait. He grabs the fabric and rips it open, buttons flying, bouncing against the floor like scattered glass. I barely have time to react before his lips are back on mine, rough, punishing, claiming.
His hands slide to my leggings, fingers hooking into the waistband, and with a single, urgent pull, he drags them down, his movements borderline reckless. My heart lurches, aches, pounds.
“Scarlett.” His face hovers centimeters from mine as he peels the leggings the rest of the way off, leaving me exposed and bare beneath him. His gaze brands me; dark and fathomless, nearly black. “I love you. Do you hear me?” The words are harsh and guttural. “No one else. Nothing else. Only you.”
My soul cracks. Because I see it—a reflection of everything I’m feeling, everything I’m suffering through. Deep and undeniable. Reckless. Nonsensical. He knows it’s insane to feel this way, but it’s unshakeable.
I wasn’t expecting him to say it back. I hadn’t even let myself imagine it was possible. Scarlett was never supposed to exist, never supposed to matter. But she does. This moment is hers. Silas loves her the way I love him, and I’m the one left breaking for it.
I open my mouth to respond, but he doesn’t let me. His hand slides up, wrapping gently around my throat—cradling it, owning it.
“I know I said this would only last as long as you wanted to be here,” he rasps with quiet fury. “But I lied. You’re not allowed to leave.” His thumb strokes over my pulse point, feeling it race. “I won’t let you.”
The anger, panic, and sheer force of his words are a tsunami, crashing over me in violent waves. It drenches me. Drowns me.
“Tell me you’ll stay,” he pleads when I don’t answer, his voice fraying at the edges. “Tell me you’ll give me more time. I’ll fix whatever’s broken, Scarlett. I’ll make this right.”
The fear in his voice tears me apart.
I wasn’t supposed to do this. I was supposed to slip away unnoticed, vanish like a ghost in the night. But I fucked everything up like I always do. Instead, I broke and pulled him into this. Now, he’s sinking in the wreckage too.
I reach for his neck, fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer. Our foreheads touch, his breath a battle between hope and disbelief. “I’ll stay,” I whisper, and the words splinter something inside me.
It’s a lie I don’t deserve to tell, but it’s one he needs to hear. So, I say it again, stronger this time, steady enough to hold him together. “I’ll stay. I swear.”
His eyes search mine warily, and for a moment, I think he sees through me. That he knows. But slowly, he exhales, his breath trembling as the smallest sliver of relief washes over him.
Then he kisses me savagely, like he can imprint this moment onto my skin and bind me to him forever. With his body flush against mine, he lifts me onto the counter, keeping me here. Keeping me his.
His hands move too fast. Too frantic. The familiar sound of his belt sliding free from the loops sends a shiver racing through me and then his slacks hit the floor. A heartbeat later, he’s pressing forward, his hips slotting between my thighs, his grip on me unrelenting. Hands tightening just enough to remind me that I am here , this moment is real .
Lips drag over mine, his voice a solemn promise and a plea all at once. “I’m going to make this better.” He tilts my chin up, forcing me to hold his gaze.
He takes me like a man fighting a losing battle. Like he knows, deep down, that something is slipping through his fingers and he can’t stop it. His hands map my body. Each touch, each thrust, each broken gasp between us carries unspoken words.
I love you.
Don’t leave.
Please.
His forehead presses against mine, our breaths tangling, colliding. “I love you,” he whispers the words again, like repetition alone will be enough. His lips brushing over mine, down my jaw. “I’ll make you love me so much you’ll never want to leave.”
Tears streak down my face, mingling with his kisses. Because he’s trying to fix something he doesn’t even know I broke.
Maybe it’s poetic—cruelly, mercilessly poetic—that the last time I get to have him is here, in the very place where I first gave into him. As if fate had been waiting to bring us full circle, only to rip it all away.
Too quickly, the moment crashes over us, a violent, shattering wave of everything we are, everything we could have been, everything that can never be.
Silas doesn’t let go. He won’t.
His arms wrap around me, locking me against him, holding me so fiercely it feels like he’s trying to absorb me. I shake against him, body trembling, my tears soaking into his skin.
His fingers dig into my back, mouth pressing against the crown of my head as he whispers into my hair. “I’ve got you.” His voice is thick, uneven, so painfully sincere it splits me open. “We’re going to figure this out.”
And for one fleeting, fragile moment, I let myself believe that somehow, this will be enough to save me. From my lies. From my betrayal. From the inevitable.
Deep down, I know the truth. I’m lying. To him. To myself. He deserves better. More. And I am the last person on earth who should be the one to give it to him.
One day, he’ll realize what I’ve done. He’ll be grateful that I let him go so violently. Hopefully, he’ll hate me because only one of us needs to suffer, and it sure as hell shouldn’t be him.
But for now, for these last few stolen moments, I’m too selfish to let go. So I let myself be loved by Silas Wells while I still can—because it’s reckless, doomed, and the best thing I’ve ever done.