Chapter 10
SILAS
I sat in Dominion Hall’s ops room, the hum of monitors filling the silence, my eyes glued to the security feeds.
Portia’s car rolled up the drive, sleek and deliberate, like she owned the place.
She stepped out, and my breath caught. That dress—ivory silk, clinging to her curves like liquid sin—hit me like a punch.
It skimmed her body, teasing every line, the hem flirting with her thighs, her shoulders bare under those thin straps.
No bra, maybe no panties. The thought burned through me, hot and ugly, and I leaned closer to the screen, my jaw tight.
Monte opened her door, his suit crisp, his eyes scanning the grounds like he was her personal shield. Something about the guy grated on me, and I couldn’t tell if it was jealousy or instinct. Maybe both.
I flicked between feeds, tracking their path to the foyer. Monte stayed close, too close, his hand hovering near her back.
Family, he’d called her. Bullshit. No man looked at a woman like that—her fire, her sharp tongue, her body that could bring a saint to his knees—without wanting her. I’d seen it in his eyes in that hallway at The Palmetto Rose, heard it in his voice when he said her name.
Protective? Sure. But there was more, and it made my blood boil.
The ops room door hissed open, and Elias strolled in, his laptop under one arm.
“What’s got you so focused?” he asked, glancing at the screens.
I leaned back, casual, like I hadn’t been staring at Portia like a creep.
“Keeping an eye on the pain-in-the-ass planner. She’s got her security guy sniffing around. Don’t trust him.”
Elias snorted, setting his laptop on the table.
“You don’t trust anyone. What’s new?”
He didn’t push, just opened his screen and started typing. Good. I didn’t need him digging into why I was obsessed with Portia’s every move.
“Any luck with that burner?” I asked, shifting gears. I’d given Elias the phone from the Rusty Anchor, told him it came from a source claiming it linked to Department 77. I hadn’t mentioned the message . That was mine, a private wound I wasn’t ready to share. Not with my brothers, not yet.
My Silas .
My mother’s voice, pulling me into a game I didn’t understand.
Elias shook his head, his fingers flying over the keys.
“Dead end. No prints, no data, no nothing. Chip’s fried, like it was designed to wipe itself after one use. Whoever sent it knew what they were doing.”
I leaned forward, keeping my voice steady, probing to cover my tracks.
“No trace at all? No origin, no signal logs?”
“Nada,” he said, not looking up. “Thing’s a brick. Could’ve been a decoy, or maybe your source is jerking you around. You sure this guy’s legit?”
“Doyle’s a rat, but he’s reliable enough,” I lied. Doyle hadn’t known shit about the phone, just handed it over with that Post-it note— Give to Silas Dane . I pressed harder, testing Elias’s read. “What about the facial recognition? Any code left behind?”
Elias shrugged, his tech-nerd brain in overdrive.
“Wiped clean. Standard encryption, nothing fancy. If it was 77, they’re not leaving breadcrumbs. No malware, no trackers. Just a ghost in the machine.”
Ghost. The word hit like a slug, but I kept my face blank.
Elias didn’t mention our mother, never did. None of us did, not since Charlie’s sighting cracked open that old wound.
I wanted to ask if he’d found anything else—any hint of her, of 77’s plans—but I stopped myself. Too risky. If I pushed too hard, Elias would smell something off, and I wasn’t ready to spill.
My Silas .
It was mine to carry, at least for now.
“Keep digging,” I said, standing. “Let me know if anything pops.”
He waved me off, already lost in his code.
“Yeah, yeah. Go scare someone else.”
I left the ops room, my steps heavy on the hardwood, my mind split between Portia and that damn phone.
No sign of Department 77, according to Elias.
No sign of our mother. But she was out there.
I felt it in my gut, the same way I’d felt Portia’s fire in that shop, her body clenching around me, her nails in my skin.
Both were dangerous, both were pulling me off course, and I needed to get my head straight.
I decided to jangle Monte’s chain. Guy was poking around where he didn’t belong, and I wasn’t about to let him play hero on my turf.
I checked the feeds again, spotting him on the backside of the property, near the dock where I’d first seen Portia’s cut palm.
He was scanning the shoreline, his posture all business, but something about him screamed trouble.
I didn’t like it. Didn’t like him. Jealousy or instinct, didn’t matter. He was in my way.
I headed out, the morning air thick with magnolia and salt. Monte was exactly where I’d seen him, his suit jacket off, sleeves rolled, eyes on the harbor like he expected an invasion. He clocked me as I approached, his face neutral but his stance shifting, ready.
Good. Let him sweat.
“Dane,” he said, nodding, his voice cool. “Checking up on me?”
“Just keeping tabs,” I said, matching his tone, casual but sharp. “You’re a long way from Atlanta. What’s got you so interested in our shoreline?”
He didn’t flinch, just tilted his head. “Portia’s safety. Your family’s safety. That’s my job. You got a problem with that?”
I stepped closer, letting him feel my presence. “Depends. You here to protect her, or to play knight in shining armor?”
His eyes narrowed, but his voice stayed even. “I’m here to do what she pays me for. Unlike some, I don’t make it personal.”
The jab landed, but I didn’t show it. “Funny,” I said, my smile cold. “Looks pretty personal from where I’m standing.”
We stood there, two dogs circling, neither backing down. He was good, I’d give him that. Steady, no fear, like he’d faced worse than me. But I was The Ghost, and I didn’t lose staring contests.
Then Portia appeared, stepping onto the lawn like a goddamn vision. That silk dress caught the light, shimmering against her caramel skin, her curves a fucking crime. Her heels sank into the grass, but she moved like she owned it, her eyes locking onto us.
Radiant. That’s what she was.
It took every ounce of willpower not to rip her away from Monte, throw her over my shoulder, and carry her somewhere no one else could see her. Somewhere I could peel that dress off and remind her what we’d started in that shop.
Monte straightened, his voice shifting to protective mode.
“Portia, maybe we should proceed to the parking area. I’m sure you’ll want to see where the transportation will be staging.”
I saw it—the flicker in her eyes, the way her jaw tightened. She didn’t like being told what to do, not by him, not by anyone.
I stepped in, my voice blunt, cutting through his bullshit. “Maybe you should stick to your pay grade, Monte. She’s got this.”
His eyes lit with fire, a spark of rage that made my blood hum.
Got you , I thought, grinning inwardly.
He opened his mouth, ready to swing back, but Portia was faster. “Silas,” she said, her voice calm but firm, “I need a more thorough tour of Dominion Hall’s interior. You available?”
I turned to her, my grin spreading, real this time.
“Delighted,” I said, throwing it at Monte like a grenade.
His jaw clenched, and I felt his anger radiating, hot and sharp.
Let him stew.
“I’ll come along,” Monte said, stepping forward, but Portia cut him off.
“Recheck the shoreline, Monte,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “That’s the weak spot. I need it locked down from the paparazzi.”
He hesitated, his eyes flicking between us, but she was already moving toward the house, her dress swaying with every step. I didn’t look at Monte as I passed, but I felt his fury, a heat wave at my back.
Let him try something. I’d bury him.
Inside, the foyer was cool, the air heavy with polish and power. Portia walked ahead, her heels clicking on the hardwood, and I followed, my eyes on the sway of her hips, the bare skin of her shoulders.
We were alone now, the hum of staff distant, and the tension between us crackled like a live wire. Then she stopped, turned, and flipped the script again.
“Why are you giving Monte shit?” she asked, her voice low, sharp. “He’s a key part of my team. I thought we had a deal.”
I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms, my pulse thudding.
“Deal’s fine. But it’s not professional when your security guy’s dying to sleep with you.”
Her eyes widened, a flash of shock, then she scoffed, but it was forced. I’d hit a nerve. Her cheeks flushed, and I saw it—the truth she didn’t want to admit. Monte wanted her. She knew it, deep down, even if she’d never let it happen.
Relief hit me, quick and sharp, because I knew then they’d never fucked. Never would. She was too professional, too fierce, to cross that line with her guard dog.
“You’re out of line,” she snapped, stepping closer, her finger jabbing the air. “Maybe you should worry about your own shit instead of butting into my life. You’ve got enough ghosts to chase, Silas.”
The words cut, personal and raw. She wasn’t wrong.
My Silas .
My mother’s message, Department 77’s shadow, the war I couldn’t escape—it was all there, clawing at me.
But I bit back, my voice low, edged with heat. “Don’t act like you’re not in my head, Portia. You’re the one wearing that dress, playing games.”
Silence fell, heavy and awkward, our breaths loud in the empty foyer.
Then she surprised me again, her lips curving, her eyes glinting with something dangerous. “Tell me what you really think of the dress, Silas.”
I blinked, caught off guard, and the truth spilled out before I could stop it. “Sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Her grin widened, slow and wicked, and I felt my own lips twitch, a real smile, rare and unguarded.
She stepped closer, her scent—citrus and steel—flooding my senses. “I need to see the guest rooms,” she said, her voice low, suggestive. “Maybe we should inspect the durability of the mattresses.”
My heart thudded, loud enough to drown out the world. Department 77, my mother, Monte’s glare—all of it faded, burned away by her fire.
I didn’t speak, just nodded, leading the way up the grand staircase, my footsteps heavy, my blood singing.
She followed, her heels a soft echo, and I knew I was lost, but for once, I didn’t care.