Chapter 26
SILAS
P ortia stood by the window in my suite at Dominion Hall, the blackout curtain peeled back, her silhouette sharp against the inked-out Charleston sky. Her arms were crossed, the folder with my mother’s name—Caroline Dane—clutched tight, her face a mask of betrayal and fear.
Monte’s death hung between us, his blood a fresh wound, and the red ribbon in that glass cabinet was a silent taunt.
I’d brought her here to keep her safe after the ambush at The Palmetto Rose, but now, with her eyes burning into mine, I knew safety was a lie. I’d brought her into my war, and I couldn’t hide anymore.
“I saw her,” I said, my voice rough, the words spilling out like a confession. “My mother. Caroline. She’s alive.”
Portia’s eyes widened, her breath catching. “What?”
I paced, my feet heavy on the slate floor, my hands flexing at my sides.
“On Sullivan’s Island, at the old house. She was there, real as you are now. I held her, Portia. Felt her heartbeat. She told me everything—Department 77, how it started, how it broke us.”
Portia’s jaw tightened, her voice low, skeptical. “Everything?”
I nodded, the weight of it crushing me.
“My grandfather—her father—created 77. Black ops, deniable missions, a shadow tool for the government. She joined it with my dad, Byron, thought they could change the world. But it turned, became a weapon for the powerful, corrupted by my grandfather. Dad left to protect us, but she stayed, thinking she could fix it, keep 77’s eyes off my brothers and me.
She’s Number 2 now, heir to the whole fucking mess. ”
Portia’s eyes narrowed, her voice sharp. “And you believe her? After she left you, after all this time, you just trust her?”
I stopped pacing, my chest tight.
“I do. Deep down, I do. She’s my mother. I saw her eyes, felt her regret. She’s not the enemy.”
Portia stepped forward, her voice rising.
“She’s Number 2 in the organization that tried to kill your brothers, Silas.
That kidnapped Claire, targeted Ryker, and now—” Her voice cracked, Monte’s name unspoken but heavy.
“You think she’s innocent? You think she doesn’t know who tried to take me, who killed Monte? ”
I clenched my fists, my jaw tight.
“I haven’t talked to her since, but I’m sure she knows. She’s got answers, and I’ll get them.”
Portia’s eyes softened, a flicker of understanding breaking through her anger. She set the folder down, her hands trembling.
“You’re going after them, aren’t you? Whoever did this.”
I nodded, my voice low. “With her. She’s got a plan to end 77, to kill my grandfather. I’m in.”
Portia’s breath hitched, and then she surprised me, her voice steady, fierce. “I want in.”
I blinked, my mind stalling.
“In on what?”
She stepped closer, her eyes blazing.
“I want to look the person who’s responsible for Monte in the eye. I want to know why. I want to make them pay.”
I scoffed, shaking my head.
“No way, Portia. This is my war, not yours.”
She pressed forward, her voice unyielding. “It’s mine now. Monte died for me, Silas. You don’t get to shut me out.”
I stared at her, her fire burning through my doubt. She was serious, her jaw set, her hands fisted at her sides.
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” I said, my voice low, warning. “This isn’t a game. It’s blood, it’s death.”
She pushed me, her hands on my chest, backing me against the bed.
“I know what it is,” she said, her voice a blade. “And I’m not asking. I’m telling you.”
Her strength, her resolve, hit me like a wave, and I relented, my back against the mattress, her body looming over me.
“Okay,” I said, my voice rough. “But we do it my way.”
She didn’t answer with words. Her eyes darkened, a new kind of fire sparking, and she pushed me down, her hands firm.
“On your knees,” she ordered, her voice low, commanding.
I obeyed, dropping to the floor, my heart pounding, my cock already stirring.
She stepped back, her slip dress clinging to her curves, and pulled it over her head, letting it fall like a whisper. She was bare underneath, her nipples tight, her thighs parted just enough to make my mouth water.
I reached for her, but she swatted my hand away, her voice sharp. “No. Not until I say.”
I froze, my breath catching, enthralled by her control, her power.
“Fuck me with your mouth,” she said, her voice a sultry command, her eyes locked on mine.
I leaned in, my hands hovering, waiting for her permission.
“Kiss my thighs,” she ordered, and I did, my lips soft against her skin, tasting salt and heat.
I kissed higher, slower, my tongue tracing the curve where her thigh met her hip, her gasp sharp above me.
“Lick me,” she said, her voice steady, and I obeyed, my tongue gliding over her folds, slow and deliberate, savoring her sweetness. She moaned, her hands fisting my hair, guiding me, but when I tried to suck her clit, she pushed my head back.
“Not yet,” she said, her voice firm. “Slow. Just your tongue.”
I groaned, my cock straining against my jeans, but I complied, licking her in long, languid strokes, her taste flooding my senses. Her hips rocked, her moans louder, and she ordered, “Circle my clit. Soft.”
I did, my tongue teasing, her body trembling under my touch.
“Harder,” she said, and I pressed firmer, her gasps sharp, her thighs quaking. I wanted to grab her hips, to pull her closer, but she sensed it, swatting my hands away.
“No touching,” she said, her voice a whip, and I obeyed, enthralled, amazed by her command.
“Now suck,” she ordered, and I closed my lips around her clit, sucking gently, then harder as she moaned, “More.”
Her hands tightened in my hair, her body arching, and I worked her, my tongue flicking, my lips pulling, until she cried out, her orgasm crashing through her, her thighs clamping around my face, her taste flooding my mouth.
I didn’t stop, didn’t dare, until she gasped, “Enough.”
She pulled me to my feet, her eyes blazing, her breath fast.
“Take off your clothes,” she ordered, and I stripped, my shirt, jeans, and boxers hitting the floor, my cock hard and ready, her gaze raking over me.
“Put your cock in my hand,” she said, her voice low, commanding, and I stepped closer, guiding myself into her palm. Her fingers closed around me, tight and warm, stroking slow, and I groaned, my head tipping back.
“Do you like it?” she asked, her voice sultry, her eyes locked on mine.
“Fuck, yes,” I rasped, my hips twitching.
“Do you like it when I tell you what to do?” she asked, her stroke slowing, teasing.
“I do,” I said, my voice rough, my body hers.
“Good,” she said, her smile wicked. “Lie on the bed.”
I obeyed, stretching out on the sheets, my heart pounding. She climbed over me, straddling my thighs, her hands pinning my wrists above my head.
“Don’t move,” she ordered, and I stayed still, my breath fast, my cock aching.
She leaned down, her lips brushing my chest, her tongue flicking my nipple, a jolt of pleasure shooting through me.
“Bite me,” I said, but she shook her head, her voice firm.
“Not yet. My rules.”
She kissed lower, her tongue tracing the line of my abs, her breath hot against my skin.
“Spread your legs,” she ordered, and I did, her hands sliding up my thighs, teasing but not touching my cock.
“Stroke yourself,” she said, and I gripped myself, my hand moving slow, her eyes watching, hungry.
“Faster,” she said, and I obeyed, my breath hitching, her command driving me wild.
“Stop,” she said, and I groaned, my hand stilling, my body trembling with need.
She climbed higher, her thighs straddling my hips, her wetness brushing my cock.
“Put your hands on my breasts,” she ordered, and I cupped them, her nipples hard under my palms, her moan soft as I squeezed.
“Pinch them,” she said, and I did, gentle at first, then harder as she gasped, “More.”
Her hips rocked, teasing my tip, and I tried to thrust, but she pressed me down, her voice sharp. “Not until I say.”
“Fuck me,” I growled, but she shook her head, her smile wicked.
“Not yet. Rub your cock against me,” she ordered, and I did, sliding myself through her folds, her wetness coating me, her moans driving me insane.
“Slow,” she said, and I obeyed, my body taut, every nerve on fire.
“Now inside,” she said, and I positioned myself, pushing in slow, her heat tight and perfect, her moan echoing mine.
“Don’t thrust,” she ordered, and I groaned, holding still, her walls pulsing around me.
“Move your hips,” she said, and I rocked gently, her hands on my chest, her nails digging in.
“Harder,” she ordered, and I thrust deeper, her moans louder, her body meeting mine.
She leaned forward, her lips brushing my ear.
“Fuck me with your fingers, too,” she said, and I slid a hand between us, circling her clit, her gasps sharp, her body trembling.
“Two fingers inside,” she ordered, and I pushed them in, curling them, her walls clenching, her cries raw.
“Don’t stop,” she said, and I didn’t, fucking her with my cock and fingers, her body a storm, her command my anchor.
“Come for me,” she ordered, her voice a whip, and I let go, my orgasm crashing through me, spilling deep inside her, my vision whitening, my roar echoing her cry.
She rode me through it, her hips relentless, drawing it out until I was spent, trembling, hers.
She collapsed on me, her breath fast, her body slick with sweat, and I held her, amazed, engaged, enthralled by her power, her fire.
She sat up, straddling me, her eyes blazing with satisfaction, looking down like a queen.
I stared up at her, my chest heaving, and the words slipped out, raw, unfiltered, something I’d never told anyone.
“I love you,” I said, my voice rough, my heart exposed.
Her smile was soft, triumphant. “Now we’re on the same page,” she said, and then she grabbed my cock, put it inside her, and we started again.