Chapter 38
THREE DAYS AFTER THE EXPLOSION
Silas
T he only proof that time hasn’t frozen completely as I stand in the doorway of the guest room is the slow crawl of sunlight across the hardwood floor, inching up the wall near the fireplace. Everything else feels suspended in some cruel, endless loop. This room is a perfect snapshot of Scarlett’s presence: her life here, her imprint on this house, on me. On every goddamn part of my existence.
The bed is pristine, untouched for weeks because she spent every night across the hall with me. But her clothes are still scattered, as if she might walk in at any moment to grab them. The boots Natalie bought her sit haphazardly in the corner, kicked off like she was rushing to get comfortable. And there, draped over the back of the chair by the fireplace, is one of her sweaters. Still slightly misshapen, as though she might reach for it any second.
It all feels so alive. But it isn’t.
I think of the time I suggested moving her things into my closet. It was a passing comment that had earned me a laugh and a bemused look. “Hold your horses,” she’d said, shaking her head like I was ridiculous, as if she wasn’t already fully part of this home and my routine. Hold your horses. I hadn’t heard those words in decades, but now they’re seared into my memory. Another scar she’s left behind.
A sharp pain rises in my chest, flaring so intensely it forces me to suck in a shaky breath. My ribs feel like they’re caving in as I hold the inhale, as though breathing might rip me apart. Part of me wishes it would. The ache goes so deep it feels like it’s hollowing me out. The thought of never hearing her voice again—her low, sultry tone that made my name sound like something precious—slices through me. It already feels like her voice is fading, just a faint echo in the back of my mind. I don’t know how I’ll survive when it’s gone completely.
I take a step into the room, and it feels like trespassing on sacred ground. Each detail screams her name; each corner whispers of her presence. But it’s all wrong. It’s too quiet, too still. My knees nearly buckle, and I catch myself against the dresser, my fingers pressing into the polished wood as though it might hold me together. It doesn’t.
My hand drifts to my pocket subconsciously, the crinkling sound of paper confirming it’s still there. The letter. It had been hastily written and waiting for me when I woke up, left on the pillow next to me. The only piece of her I have left.
Before I can stop myself, I’m back there.
The faint imprint of her body is still visible on the sheets, and the moment I see it, I know. I don’t need to read a word to understand what it means. But I read it anyway.
Si,
You hate me now and I don't blame you.
I'm sorry I lied. I had to do this to protect Natalie, and you. Hopefully, you'll understand one day.
Don't let your guard down. Keep pushing for the truth and demand transparency from William, whether he gives it willingly or you have to take it. You can fix this.
Please take care of yourself and thank you for everything. Loving you will always be the most honest thing I’ve ever done.
Scar
The words haven’t even fully sunk in before I’m moving. I call Cillian immediately, waking Davey and Natalie, and we start tracking her. Surveillance footage shows her climbing into a ride-share downtown, heading toward the South Side. And then nothing. The trail goes cold, like someone scrubbed it clean.
I’m ready to tear through South Side myself, convinced she couldn’t have gone far. Then Cillian calls again.
“There’s been an explosion,” he says, voice rushed. “In the South Side warehouse district. It’s... bad. There are casualties.”
His words don’t register at first. The district. The servers. My thoughts spiral, caught between finding Scarlett and managing this new disaster.
Then he clarifies, “Luckily, the fire department contained it before it spread to the warehouse we’ve been using, but a few others… they’re gone. Fires gutted them. Whatever happened, it came dangerously close to spilling into our operation.”
Relief should come, knowing the warehouse is safe. But it doesn’t. People died. And all I can think about is Scarlett’s last known location—too damn close to where it happened.
I never make it to my car to find her.
The hours that follow are chaos. Damage reports. Calls. Offers of support to the business that housed our servers. But the relief I should feel is drowned out by something else. An ache. A knowing.
And then Davey calls, already in his car and headed to my home.
“You need to see something,” he says, his voice tight. “I’ve been reviewing the security footage from the warehouse and… you just need to see it.”
I don’t ask questions. I can’t. When I join him in my study, he shows me the manipulated footage. A flicker in the camera feeds just before the explosion. And then there she is. Standing among the trucks, surrounded by armed men, their backs turned to the camera. Their guns are trained on her, but she’s not backing down. She’s arguing, her body tense, her face pale but fierce. Then the footage shifts to night vision mode. She moves. A loose metal rod. A flick of a lighter.
The screen flares with fire as the truck ignites—and Scarlett disappears in the flames.
My knees weaken as I grip the back of a chair, the weight of it crashing into me like a physical blow. She’s gone. Scarlett is dead. The woman I’ve loved so quickly and fiercely it feels like it might tear me apart… gone.
A ragged breath tears from my throat, but it’s not enough. My chest constricts, vision blurs. I force myself to keep watching, to find some flaw in the footage, some sign that it’s a trick, but all I see is fire. All I see is her disappearing into the inferno, swallowed whole by the explosion before the video cuts out completely.
A deep, unbearable void yawns open inside me, swallowing me whole. This is the obliteration of my soul. A slow, agonizing unraveling from the inside out.
My hands curl into fists, but the pain is distant, inconsequential. I want to lash out, to destroy something, to tear apart the room, but what would it change? What can I do except sit here and drown in it? Scarlett is gone, and I don’t know how to exist in a world where she isn’t.
But I force down the suffocating weight in my chest, locking it away with the same ruthless efficiency I use for everything else. Emotion won’t help me. Answers will.
My voice is barely audible. “Who the hell are they?” I rasp, staring at the screen like it might offer answers.
Davey shakes his head. “I don’t know. But whoever they are, they weren’t there accidentally. Scarlett was involved in something, Silas. It’s no coincidence she was there.” He hesitates, then adds carefully, “This is the only footage from the warehouses. We need to bury it. At least for now. If William finds out about her involvement…”
He doesn’t need to finish. If William finds out, no matter the reason Scarlett was there, he’ll blame me for letting her in and everything that happened. It will destroy everything I’ve been working toward. But even that pales in comparison to the rest of it.
I exhale sharply and shake my head, forcing the memories back into the dark corners of my mind where they belong. It’s a cruel, agonizing contradiction, this unbearable love tangled with seething anger. And now, I’ll never get the chance to look her in the eye and demand answers. To ask her why she lied. Why she was at that warehouse and who those men were. If any of it was real.
I can barely think beyond the roaring in my ears. She’s gone, and I hate her for it. I hate her for leaving me like this, for breaking me and then dying before I could put the pieces back together. But worse than the hate is the love that still holds me hostage, no matter how much logic fights it.
A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. I look up to see Davey in the hallway. “Do you have a minute?” he asks, his voice measured but heavy with something unsaid.
“Yeah,” I mutter, turning to face him fully.
I follow him into the study, where he shuts the door behind us and locks it with the biometric scanner. The soft click of the lock twists something deep in my gut.
We both take our seats—me behind the desk, Davey in the cigar chair opposite. He leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, and for a moment, neither of us speaks.
“We’ve had our team on-site overseeing the cleanup,” he begins, his tone measured but careful.
I nod, bracing myself for what’s coming.
“They found two bodies near the trucks,” he says slowly. “Both men. By the size and build, probably two of the guys from the footage since the three on-site security officers were found knocked out on the other end of the lot."
I wait for the rush of emotion. Something, anything. But there’s only numbness. Davey’s watching me, gauging my reaction. When I don’t respond, he continues.
“They found something else,” he says, his voice dropping slightly. “Near the outskirts of the warehouse fence where there was a gap. A backpack stuck to the wire.”
The bottom drops out of my stomach. I don’t say anything, but my body stiffens, and Davey doesn’t miss it.
“It’s filled with equipment,” he explains. “And… it looks like the one she had on in the footage.”
My throat tightens, but I force myself to ask, “What type of equipment?” My voice sounds hollow, even to my own ears.
Davey hesitates, his jaw tightening before he answers. “The melted contents suggest she was trying to break into our servers. Based on where we found it, and the lack of a body…” He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “We think she got out.”
The debilitating wave of relief that crashes over me is short-lived, hitting so hard it nearly knocks the breath from my lungs. She’s alive. Scarlett is alive . The suffocating grief that had wrapped itself around my throat loosens just enough for me to pull in a full breath, but it’s tainted. Sharp and acidic, burning all the way down because the next realization slams into me, just as vicious and undeniable.
Everything clicks into place. The guilt. The strange behavior. The lies.
My father was right about her. Goddamn him. He was right.
She used me. Manipulated me. And worse, she risked everything I’ve been building, everything I’ve sacrificed for.
The relief curdles into something dark and twisted. A brutal war erupts inside me—one part of me grasping onto the fact that she’s still breathing, and the other part recoiling at the truth of what she’s done.
I loved her. I trusted her.
My stomach churns, my pulse hammering in my skull. I had begun to mourn her and it nearly pulled me under. And now, in the same breath that brings her back to life, I have to face the fact that she was never mine to begin with.
Rage rises in my chest, hot and consuming, leaving no room for rational thought. My fingers curl tightly around the edge of the desk as I fight to keep myself in control, but the silence in the room stretches, suffocating. Davey doesn’t say anything, doesn’t push. He simply waits, his sharp eyes tracking every flicker of emotion that passes across my face.
He’d warned me about her, just like my father had. But I’d ignored them both. Blinded myself to the obvious because I didn’t want to see it. Because I couldn’t fathom that Scarlett could do something like this to me. To us.
But she did.
“She can’t get away with this,” I finally say, my voice low and cold. The words taste bitter, but they’re the only anchor I have left.
Davey accepts my words without judgment. “What do you want to do?”
I lean back slightly, forcing my hands to unclench as I drag in a shaky breath. My mind races through every terrible thing I want to do, every piece of vengeance I want to rain down on her, but I push it aside. I need clarity. I need control.
And most of all, I need the whole truth .
“We don’t tell my father,” I say firmly, meeting Davey’s gaze. “Just like with the surveillance footage. Not until we have a clearer picture.”
Davey’s expression tightens slightly, but he nods.
“Figure out what’s on those servers,” I continue, my tone sharpening. “Every file, every trace. If you don’t already know, find out. I don’t care how deep you have to dig.”
Davey hesitates, his brow furrowing. “There’s a lot on those servers I’ve never touched. Some of it predates my time at Wells. Some of it…” He trails off, his face hardening. “Let’s just say there are things William keeps compartmentalized for a reason. I can get us access, but it’s not going to be clean.”
“Then make it clean,” I snap, my patience fraying. “We need to know what she was after. She thought my father was involved in something, and I want to know what it is.”
Davey studies me carefully, his expression unreadable. “You don’t think she was working alone, do you?”
I let out a sharp exhale, shaking my head. “I don’t know,” I admit. “But what I do know is that she lied. And I’m going to find out why.”
The room feels stifling, every emotion crashing into me at once: betrayal, fury, grief. Scarlett’s deception isn’t just personal. It’s monumental. It’s uprooted the very foundation I’ve been building my future on. And the worst part? I can’t even decide what hurts more: that she lied, or that I still want to believe there was a reason behind it. A good reason.
But none of that matters now. Whatever she was after, whatever she wanted from those servers, or from me, it wasn’t hers to take. And I’ll make damn sure she knows it.
I pull my scattered thoughts together into something sharp and actionable. “This stays between us,” I say. It’s not a suggestion. It’s a command. “No one else can know. As far as anyone else is concerned, Scarlett skipped town. That story holds until we have answers.”
Davey’s eyes scanning my face. “And Natalie?” he asks carefully. “You don’t think she should know?”
I shake my head. “No. Not yet. Natalie was too close to her. If she finds out, she’ll try to justify it and make excuses for her. We can’t afford that kind of distraction right now. The fewer people who know the truth, the better.”
Davey’s face reflects his unease, but he nods, accepting my logic, even if it doesn’t sit well with him. “Just us, and only the people we absolutely trust.”
“Exactly,” I say, leaning back slightly in my chair, though the tension in my body refuses to ease. My muscles are coiled, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. “Bring in whoever you need, but be selective. No one outside the circle hears a word of this until we know exactly what we’re dealing with.”
The weight of the decision sinks in, heavy and suffocating. I’ve spent years keeping myself out of the darker corners of my teams’ dealings, trusting them to handle the cleanup when things got messy. But this isn’t business. This is personal. The familiar pull of that darker part of me—the part I’ve spent years suppressing—starts to rise. It’s not rage; it’s something colder, something precise. And it’s already beginning to claw its way free.
“Davey,” I say, the edge in my voice undeniable now. The anger and betrayal coiling tighter, feeding off the realization of how deeply she played me. “I need to find her. Whoever the hell she really is. Wherever she’s gone. She almost destroyed everything.”
Davey’s expression hardens, mirroring my resolve. “Understood,” he says simply.
“She lied to me,” I continue, more to myself now, my voice heavy with a mix of disbelief and rage. I thought I came to terms with this when I saw the video of her at the warehouses, but I was stupidly holding out hope that there was an explanation I wasn’t seeing. Everything about her was a lie. Scarlett Page doesn’t exist.
And even though she’s alive, she’s dead to me.
I stand abruptly, the need to move overwhelming as the flood of emotions threatens to drown me. Pacing the room, I rake a hand through my hair, trying to piece together everything I thought I knew about her. Every memory, every word, every touch… it’s all tainted now, twisted into something I can’t reconcile. She slipped into my life so perfectly, like she was made for it. Made for me. And I fell for it.
“This stays between us,” I repeat, demanding absolute loyalty. “We protect this until we know exactly what we’re dealing with. No one else gets involved.”
Davey nods one final time, his eyes steady on mine. “I’ll keep looking and get the team ready.”
“Good,” I reply, my jaw clenched so tight it aches.
As Davey turns to leave, I drop back into the chair, letting my head fall into my hands. The fragments of Scarlett spin in my mind like shards of glass, sharp and unrelenting. I would have given nearly anything up for her, and she’s broken me in ways I don’t think I’ll ever recover from.
Whoever she is, wherever she’s gone, I’ll find her. And this time, there won’t be room for pretty lies. No masks. No games.
This time, she’ll tell me everything.