Chapter 39 Silas
SILAS
Ifollow Ryan’s car from a distance, keeping two vehicles between us, tracking his movement through the city streets. The bug Parker planted is working perfectly—I can hear everything through the small earpiece tucked in my ear.
Ryan’s voice: “—had a wonderful time tonight, Parker. I hope this is just the first of many—”
Parker’s voice, polite but distant: “It was a nice evening. Thank you for accompanying me.”
Silence for a moment. Then the sound of movement—fabric shifting, Ryan leaning closer maybe.
“I’d like to see you again,” Ryan says. “Not at a gala or a business meeting. Just us. Dinner, maybe. Or—”
“Ryan, I appreciate the sentiment, but I’ve been very clear about where I stand. Tonight was professional courtesy. Nothing more.”
“Parker—”
“I’m not interested in a relationship with you. I’m sorry if that’s disappointing, but it’s the truth.”
More silence. I can practically hear Ryan processing, recalculating his approach.
“Is it them?” he asks finally. “Jace, Cal, and Silas. Is that why—”
“This conversation is over.” Parker’s voice has gone cold. “Please respect my boundaries.”
The rest of the drive is silent except for the sound of the engine and occasional street noise.
When they reach the main house, I park down the road, watching through binoculars as Ryan gets out, and comes around to open Parker’s door. He offers his hand. She takes it briefly, then releases it as soon as she’s standing.
Ryan says something—probably another attempt at extending the evening. Parker responds with something that makes him nod, his expression tightening.
Then he leans in.
Going for a kiss—the presumptuous asshole actually thinks he’s earned a kiss after tonight.
Parker turns her head smoothly, his lips catching her cheek instead of her mouth. A professional swerve, perfectly executed, leaving no room for misinterpretation but maintaining plausibility for anyone watching.
“Goodnight, Ryan,” she says clearly.
Then she’s walking toward the house, not looking back, leaving Ryan standing by his car looking like someone just slapped him.
I allow myself a small smile.
That’s my girl.
Ryan gets back in his car, sitting there for a moment before pulling out his phone. I adjust my earpiece, listening.
A dial tone. Then a female voice: “That was fast. How did it go?”
Aria.
“She’s not interested,” Ryan says, his voice flat. “Made it very clear there’s no future there.”
“I told you she was already taken.” Aria sounds amused. “Those three have been circling her like sharks since she got back. You never stood a chance.”
“Charles seemed to think—”
“Charles was using you to make a point to his sister about optics and alliances. You were a pawn, Ryan. A very well-dressed, well-connected pawn.”
Silence. Then: “Where are you?”
“My place. Are you coming over or not?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there soon.
The call ends. Ryan starts driving again, heading in the opposite direction from his own apartment.
Heading toward the guest house where Aria lives.
Interesting.
I tail him through the city, keeping my distance, listening to the occasional phone call or muttered curse.
He makes one more call—this one to someone named Marcus, confirming a meeting for tomorrow afternoon at some restaurant I don’t recognize.
It’s not Marcus that works for us, though.
He lives next door to Aria but I know he’s with Jace right now.
I’ll just make sure to confirm Marcus hadn’t made or taken a call during this time of night.
Then he’s pulling up to the estate, passing through the gate with the security code that shouldn’t have been given to him but probably was by Charles as a courtesy.
He parks near Aria’s guest house. Gets out. Knocks on her door.
Aria answers, wearing something considerably less formal than her gala gown—a silk robe that’s clearly meant to entice, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders, her makeup still perfect despite the late hour. She pulls him inside, the door closing behind them.
I park a safe distance away, settling in to wait and listen.
The bug picks up muffled conversation—pleasantries, the sound of drinks being poured, Aria’s practiced laugh. Then Ryan’s voice, clearer now:
“I need to know if you’re serious about this alliance, or if you’re just playing games.”
“I’m very serious,” Aria says. “Dominic left me with nothing but a pregnancy scare that turned out to be false and a guest house I know I’ll be evicted from the moment Charles finds an acceptable reason. I want security. I want power. And I’m willing to work for it.”
“And you think I can give you that?”
“I think you have connections I need. And I think I have information you want.”
“What kind of information?”
“The kind that explains why Parker really ran all those years ago. The kind that reveals who the father of those twins actually is. The kind that could destabilize Charles’s control if used correctly.”
My blood goes cold.
“You know who the father is?” Ryan’s voice is sharp with interest.
“I have suspicions. Strong ones. And I know how to confirm them.” Aria’s voice is smug. “But that information has value. What are you offering in exchange?”
“What do you want?”
“Partnership. Real partnership. You help me secure my position—either here with the Carters or somewhere else that values what I bring to the table. I help you build your own organization, independent of the Matthews family expectations.”
Ryan is quiet for a long moment. Then: “You’re talking about breaking away from our families entirely.”
“I’m talking about building something new.
Something where we’re not just legacy children playing roles we didn’t choose.
You want that too—I can see it in the way you operate.
Making connections Charles didn’t authorize.
Talking to families the Matthews usually avoid.
You’re already building your own network.
I’m just offering to help accelerate the process. ”
“In exchange for information about Parker’s children.”
“Among other things. I know a lot about the Carter operation. Things Dominic told me in bed that Charles doesn’t know I know. Things that could be... useful to the right buyer.”
Fuck.
This is worse than I thought. Aria isn’t just a bitter widow looking for security.
She’s actively gathering intelligence, building leverage, preparing to sell out the family that took her in.
I mean, I’ve known she’s smarter than people think, but she’s also a desperate deceitful person.
It didn’t help all these years that I was fucking her and Dominic knew about it.
We weren’t together. Don’t confusing fucking for feelings or some shit. But since Parker reappeared outside the main house almost a month ago, I’d ended all contact with her. Hell, I rarely answer her security requests. I forward them to Jace or Marcus and move the fuck on.
I guess she is, too, in her spoiled bitch type way.
And Ryan—Ryan is interested.
“I’ll think about it,” he says finally. “But I need to know you’re not bluffing about the twins. Give me something concrete.”
“Not yet.” Aria’s voice is firm. “First, you show me you’re serious. Make your move with the Castellanos. Prove you can operate independently. Then we talk specifics.”
The conversation shifts—the sounds of movement, fabric rustling, Aria’s breathy laugh. Then other sounds. The unmistakable sounds of clothing being removed, bodies moving together, the rhythmic creak of furniture.
I switch off the audio feed. I don’t need to hear that.
But I’ve heard enough of the important parts.
I’m about to pull out when I see movement in my rearview mirror. Someone approaching from the direction of Aria’s guest house, walking with purpose.
Ryan Matthews.
He’s tucking in his shirt, his tie loose around his neck, his hair slightly disheveled. There’s lipstick on his collar—Aria’s shade, unmistakable even in the dim light. He looks satisfied, smug, like a man who just got exactly what he wanted in multiple ways.
He stops at my car window, tapping on the glass.
Fuck.
I step out slowly, my hand instinctively going to the knife concealed at my side. “Matthews.”
“Vale.” He crosses his arms, casual despite the fact that his shirt is still wrinkled from Aria’s hands, despite the evidence of their encounter written all over him. “Nice night for surveillance, isn’t it?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Please.” He smiles—that confident, entitled smile that makes me want to rearrange his face. “I spotted you following me. You’re good—very good, actually—but I’ve been trained to notice tails. My family isn’t exactly low-profile either.”
I say nothing, just watch him, calculating distances, angles, how fast I could have my knife at his throat if needed.
“Relax,” Ryan says, apparently oblivious to how close he is to bleeding. “I’m not here to fight. I’m here to talk.”
“About?”
“About the fact that you’ve been tracking me. About the fact that you’re clearly very skilled at what you do. About the fact that I’m impressed.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Impressed.”
“I’ve been watching you for weeks, Silas. Watching all three of you, actually. Jace, Cal, you. The way you operate. The way you handle threats. The way you protect what’s yours.” He pauses, and there’s something calculating in his eyes. “You’re wasted working for Charles Carter.”
The words land like stones. “Excuse me?”
“Charles is playing it safe. Transitioning the organization, trying to be legitimate, reducing the activities that actually made the Carters powerful in the first place.” Ryan’s voice is confident, assured, like he’s presenting a business proposal instead of propositioning another man’s enforcer.
“You’re an enforcer. A damn good one. But what happens when Charles doesn’t need enforcers anymore?
When he’s successfully legitimized the operation and men like you become liabilities instead of assets? ”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”