Chapter 32
SILAS
T he blood was gone from my hands, scrubbed clean under Dominion Hall’s water, but my mother’s final words clung to me. He had another family, Silas. Find them.
A discreet delivery had come that morning, a courier dropping off a sealed package with no return address. I’d opened it alone, my hands steady but my heart pounding, and found a dossier, thick with pages, my mother’s handwriting on a note pinned to the front.
For my boys. I wish I knew more.
I’d called my brothers—Ryker, Marcus, Elias, Noah, Charlie, Atlas—to the war room, and we’d spread the contents across the table, the air thick with silence as we read.
Seven names, seven faces, seven half-brothers in Montana, all roughly our ages, all still in the military. Their dossiers were complete—service records, deployments, commendations—and in every photo, our father stared back, his eyes, his jaw, his fire mirrored in theirs.
It was uncanny, exhilarating, like finding a piece of him we’d thought was lost.
“Seven,” Marcus said, his voice low, his fingers tracing a photo of a man named Caleb, a Marine sniper with Byron’s sharp gaze. “Seven more Danes.”
Elias leaned back, his arms crossed, his brow furrowed.
“They’re out there, living their lives, not knowing we exist. How the fuck did Dad pull this off?”
Noah flipped through a file, his voice quiet. “Their mother—Lila Voss. Another Department 77 operative. Mom’s note says 77 paired her with Dad on ops, over and over. Started as a cover, became real. Lila Voss died six years ago.”
I stared at a photo of Jacob, an Army Ranger, his face a mirror of my own, and my chest tightened.
“A separate life,” I said, my voice rough. “He played house with her, had kids, and never told us.”
Charlie’s jaw clenched, his eyes on a picture of Ethan, a Navy SEAL like Marcus.
“He betrayed Mom, betrayed us. But these guys—they’re our blood. We can’t ignore that.”
Atlas nodded, his voice steady. “They didn’t ask for this, same as us. But we don’t know them, don’t know what Dad taught them, if they’re like us or something else.”
Ryker leaned forward, his hands flat on the table, his voice hard. “Mom’s note says she never reached out. Too much pain, too much betrayal. It’s on us now to find them, to figure out who they are.”
I read her words again, scrawled in her sharp hand: I wish I knew more, but the truth is yours to uncover. Be careful, my boys. They’re Danes, but they’re strangers.
My throat closed, her voice in my head— My Silas —mingling with the ribbon’s promise, fulfilled in blood at Blackthorn Hollow. She’d died to save Portia, to end her father’s reign, and now she’d left us this, a final mission to find our own.
“We go to Montana,” I said, my voice steady, breaking the silence. “They’ve got a ranch, looks like a skeleton crew runs it while they’re deployed. We send feelers, discreet, see who they are.”
Marcus nodded, his grin sharp.
“We reach out, one at a time. Test the waters. Seven on one’s better than seven on seven if it goes south.”
Atlas raised a hand, his voice calm but firm. “Bring them in slow. One brother at a time, see if they’re cut from Dad’s cloth, if they’ve got his heart. If they pass muster, we bring them into the fold, maybe share the fortune. If not …”
He didn’t finish, but we all knew.
The Dane name was ours—forged in blood, loyalty, fire. If these Montana Danes were poison, like my grandfather, we’d cut them out.
A silent agreement passed between us, no objections, our eyes meeting in a pact. We’d find them, test them, maybe make them family.
I thought of my father, his secrets, his flaws, and hoped he’d instilled in them what he had in us—honor, strength, the kind of love that burns through shadows.
“There’s logistics,” Elias said, breaking the moment. “Attorneys, trusts, that sort of thing. We should move fast.”
“We’ll handle it,” Noah said, his voice steady. “Start with a letter, maybe, or a call. Something low-key, see who bites.”
I nodded, my chest lighter, the plan solid.
“I’m good with it,” I said, and I meant it, the weight of my mother’s death easing, replaced by purpose. “Let’s find them.”
The meeting broke, my brothers scattering to their tasks—Ryker to his contacts, Elias to his tech, Marcus to his weapons, each carrying the dossier’s weight.
I stayed behind, the war room quiet, the photos of my half-brothers staring up at me.
Caleb, Jacob, Ethan, Lucas, Gideon, Levi, Micah—all Danes, all strangers, their faces a mirror of my father’s, of mine.
I wondered what they knew, if they’d loved him, if they’d mourned him like we had.
The exhilaration of finding them mixed with the ache of betrayal, but I pushed it down, my focus shifting to Portia, to the life I wanted, the future we could build.
I found her in the courtyard, putting the finishing touches on the weddings, now just days away.
She stood by a trellis draped in jasmine, her tablet in hand, her black dress hugging her curves, her curls catching the sunlight.
She was more beautiful today than ever, her fire tempered by a quiet strength, a woman who’d faced blood and shadows and still stood tall.
I watched her for a moment, my heart full, her love the anchor that’d kept me from breaking at Blackthorn Hollow, from losing myself to my mother’s ghost, my grandfather’s poison.
“Hey,” I said, my voice low, stepping closer.
She looked up, her smile soft, her eyes warm but tired. “Hey. You okay?”
I nodded, my throat tight. “Better now.”
She set the tablet down, her brow furrowing. “What’s going on?”
I took a breath, my hands in my pockets.
“We found something. A dossier, from Mom. About Dad’s other family.”
Her eyes widened, her voice soft. “The brothers?”
“Seven,” I said, my voice rough. “All military, raised on a ranch in Montana. They’re our age, Portia. Dad’s face in every one of them. It’s … uncanny. Exhilarating.”
She stepped closer, her hand on my arm. “What are you going to do?”
“We’re reaching out,” I said, my eyes on hers. “Slow, careful. One at a time, to see who they are, if they’re like us. If they are, we bring them in, share everything—Dominion, the fortune, the name. If not …” I trailed off, my jaw tight.
She nodded, her eyes steady. “You’re doing the right thing.”
I swallowed, my chest aching.
“Mom said it’s up to us to find them. She never did, because of the pain, the betrayal. But I want to know them, Portia. I want to know if Dad gave them what he gave us. I can’t explain it.”
Her hand tightened, her voice soft. “He gave you strength. Loyalty. Love. If they’re his, they’ll have it, too.”
I looked at her, her words sinking in, grounding me. “I hope so.”
She smiled, her fire sparking, and I knew it was time. I stepped closer, my hands still in my pockets.
“Portia,” I said, my voice low, “there’s something else.”
She tilted her head, her smile teasing. “What, you planning another secret mission?”
I laughed, the sound rough, nervous.
“Not exactly. I was wondering … if there’s room for one more wedding.”
She laughed, her eyes bright, thinking I was joking.
“Silas, don’t mess with me. I’ve got six ceremonies to nail in less than a week.”
I pulled out the velvet box from my pocket, opened it, the ring glinting in the sunlight—a simple band, a single diamond, chosen because it reminded me of her fire, her strength. Her laugh died, her eyes wide, her breath catching. “Silas …”
“I’m serious,” I said, my voice steady, my heart bare. “Marry me, Portia. Be my family, my home. But there’s one condition—you invite yours. Your sisters, your brothers, your parents. Let them see who you’ve become.”
Her eyes filled, her hand trembling as she touched the ring.
“You mean it?”
“I’ve never meant anything more,” I said, my voice rough. “I love you. I want you, all of you—the planner, the fighter, the girl from Arkansas who built herself from nothing. I want forever, Portia.”
She laughed, a soft, broken sound, tears spilling.
“Yes,” she said, her voice fierce. “Yes, of course. But no crazy stunts for our wedding, okay?”
I grinned, pulling her close, my lips brushing her forehead.
“Deal.”
She pulled back, her smile wicked.
“Unless I want to add them.”
I laughed, the sound free, lighter than I’d ever felt, and kissed her, deep and slow, her fire burning through me.
The dossier, my half-brothers, my mother’s death—they were weights I’d carry, but with Portia, they were bearable.
My brothers would find our Montana kin, test them, maybe make them family.
The weddings would go off, Portia’s magic making them perfect. And after, we’d build our own life, rooted in love, in truth, in the family we’d both chosen.
I held her, the ring on her finger, her hand in mine, and for the first time, I wasn’t The Ghost. I was Silas Dane, a man who’d found his home.