Chapter 24 #2
“Don't apologize for something that wasn't your fault,” Silas says grimly. “The Prophets are to blame for everything.”
“You've been hunting them down,” I state, understanding these people more with every minute that passes.
“After we built this place, we spent years tracking them down,” Silas confirms. “Some scattered, changed their names, built new lives. Others stayed together, formed new operations under different names.”
“Like Malachi Voss.”
“Dear old daddy dearest,” he says with vicious humor. “Living his comfortable retirement, running his charitable foundation, playing the respectable pillar of the community. All while children disappear from his programs just like they disappeared from the Sanctum.”
I narrow my eyes. “The Bellmour Youth Initiative. He's still recruiting victims.”
“Different methodology, same predators.” A muscle twitches in Silas's jaw. “Instead of breeding his own victims, he identifies at-risk children through legitimate channels. Kids from broken homes, runaways, throwaways that nobody will miss.”
“And the system helps him do it,” I add bitterly.
“The system protects him. Respectable charity work, political connections, community standing. Who's going to believe a bunch of traumatized kids over a pillar of the community?”
I think about my investigation, about the way leads kept disappearing, files getting sealed, witnesses going silent. “That's why the FBI couldn't make progress on this case. The corruption goes too high.”
“Justice doesn't wear a badge, Teddy,” Nova whispers, her voice hollow.
I think about another survivor now gone, Ana Danbury, about the stalker who preyed on Governor Langford's daughter. “What happened to the other survivors? The ones who didn't become part of your... mission?”
Silas's expression grows troubled. “Some adapted better than others. A few joined the military, special forces, mostly. Others went overseas, disappeared into NGO work or private security. Most are functional, if not healed. And as you know, some are beyond saving.”
I absorb this, trying to process the scope of damage done by men who twisted religion into an excuse for unspeakable cruelty. “How many Prophets are left?”
“Enough,” Silas grunts. “And after the ones from our commune? Well, there are others. All over the continent.”
I take a shuddering breath, feeling my foundations shift. “I understand now,” I say, meaning it completely. “Why you hunt them. Why you can't let it go through official channels.”
Nova's eyes are soft with hope. “Do you really?”
“Yeah. I've spent my entire life believing the law makes things right.” I pause for a moment. “But some crimes... some debts can't be paid through proper channels, can they?”
“No,” Silas says softly. “They can't.”
“So what are you saying?” Nova asks.
I take a deep breath, knowing I'm about to cross a line I can never uncross. “I'm saying I'll misdirect the FBI. Tell them I infiltrated your operation but found nothing substantive. Buy you time to finish what you started.”
The silence that follows is deafening. Then Silas pulls me tighter against him, his lips brushing my temple.
“That won't work forever,” he warns.
“No, but it might work long enough.” I turn in his arms, needing to see both their faces. “Long enough for you to complete your mission. Long enough for me to figure out what I want my life to look like.”
“Any ideas?” Nova asks quietly.
The answer should terrify me, send me running back to my safe, compartmentalized existence. Instead, it fills me with a certainty that surprises me.
“I want it to include both of you,” I admit. “However that works. Whatever that means.”
Silas's smile is sharp. “It means you're ours now, Agent Coleman.”
“It means you're our pet federal agent,” Nova adds with a grin. “And nothing can change that.”
The titles should be degrading. Should remind me of everything I'm giving up, everything I'm risking. Instead, they make me feel oddly... settled. Like pieces of myself I didn't know were missing have finally clicked into place.
“Your pet special agent,” I correct, pulling Nova closer.
Her laugh is bright, delighted. “Even better.”
She kisses me then, soft and sweet and nothing like the desperate hunger from last night. When we break apart, Silas captures my mouth next, his kiss deeper, more dominant.
“So what happens now?” I ask when we finally surface for air.
“Now,” Silas says, his voice dark with promise, “we teach you everything else you need to know about who you really are.”
The threat and the promise blend together until I can't tell which is which. All I know is that I want both. Want everything they're offering, no matter the cost.
“I should probably buy a bigger bed,” Silas muses, glancing around the trailer.
“Definitely,” Nova agrees, settling more firmly against my side. “If we're keeping him, we'll need more space.”
“Oh, we're keeping him,” Silas says with finality. “Aren't we, Agent Coleman?”
I look between them—Nova with her fierce green gaze, Silas with his predatory smile.
“Yeah,” I say, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounds. “You're keeping me.”