Chapter 13
Thirteen
Silas
I stride into the dimly lit headquarters, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken words and a tension that coils in my gut. Alan's steely gaze meets mine, his posture rigid like granite. Cain leans against the wall, arms folded, eyes sharp and assessing. Jet's fingers dance restlessly on the surface of the table strewn with gadgets and maps. Blake is a shadow at the edge of the room, his silence as loud as any spoken doubt.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Silas,” Alan starts, cutting through the quiet with his gravelly voice, “you've been keeping us in the dark about Hallie St. James.”
I look at Cain, knowing he’s the one who must’ve said something.
“I asked you to look into the hard drive, not gossip about me.” I say, but without much anger.
“I’m sorry, Si. But she’s involved somehow and you’ve been preoccupied with her.”
They're circling the truth, the dangerous obsession I've kept locked down tight. I square my shoulders, letting my authoritative tone fill the room. “Hallie's not your concern.”
“Like hell she isn't.” Alan's blue eyes are hard as ice. “If she's tied to the Syndicate?—”
“She's not.” My denial is swift, visceral, even though I’ve no evidence to back it. “She's a civilian. Whatever they want with her, it’s not her fucking fault.”
Cain's brow furrows slightly. “But you've been tailing her for weeks. There's got to be something you're not saying.”
“Her safety is paramount,” I assert, and I can hear the edge of something more personal that I didn't intend to reveal.
Jet stops fidgeting, his gaze settling on me. “Boss, if you’re compromised, we need to know. We can't afford mistakes, not with what's at stake.”
“Compromised?” The word feels like an accusation, one I'm not prepared to accept. “Never.”
“Then explain.” Alan’s demand slices through the space between us.
“Explain why every path you take leads back to her?” Cain adds, his voice calm but insistent.
“Explain why you’ve moved in next door to her,” Jet chimes in, his casual demeanor gone.
“Enough!” I bark out, feeling cornered. So they’ve been watching me while I’ve been watching her. “Hallie is . . . she’s a complication, but not a liability.”
A complication I can't seem to shake off, nor do I want to. But admitting that would unravel me in front of them, and I cannot afford to come undone.
“Are you sure, Silas?” Alan pushes, unrelenting.
“Sure as death,” I retort, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue.
Their stares weigh heavily on me, each filled with their own blend of skepticism and concern. Blake's silence is the most unnerving—he's watching, calculating, waiting for the right moment to strike or support. He's a wildcard, always has been.
“Let's focus on the mission,” I say, shifting the subject away from the precipice. “We have a Senator to eliminate.”
“Right, the mission,” Jet nods, though his eyes don't quite meet mine.
“Always the mission,” Cain echoes, but there's a note in his voice that suggests he's far from convinced.
The tension in the room is as thick as the steel walls that shield us from the outside world. Alan's eyes, usually as calm as a frozen lake, now flicker with the flames of doubt.
“Silas,” he begins, his voice steady yet loaded with an undercurrent of concern, “you know I'd follow you to hell and back, but this fixation on Hallie—it's clouding your judgment. We're talking about the Senator here, not some low-level mark.”
I stand rigid, my scars itching beneath my fitted shirt, a reminder of battles fought and won. The cold air of the room contrasts sharply with the heat rising within me.
“Alan, you think I don't know what's at stake?” I fire back, my words deliberate, betraying none of the turmoil that's churning inside me. “My judgment is clear. It has to be.”
Cain watches silently for a moment before speaking up, his tone even but firm, echoing off the concrete and glass that encase us in our high-rise fortress.
“Maybe there's more to it than just an obsession,” Cain interjects, his piercing gaze holding mine. “Feelings aren't always a weakness; sometimes they give us strength where we least expect it.”
“Feelings?” Alan's voice cuts through the air, sharp and disbelieving. “We can't afford feelings. Not in our line of work.”
I clench my fists at my sides, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. I'm walking a razor's edge between the duty I owe to these men, the mission, and the pull of something far more primal—my hunger for Hallie.
“Look,” I say, forcing my voice to remain level, “Hallie is not part of this world. I can’t believe I’m admitting this to you fuckers, but yes I have feelings for her.” That was a big admission, but I refuse to explain just how deep those feelings are or how insane she drives me. “But the reason I’ve been so preoccupied with her is because Drago had recon shots of her all over his computer. Something fucked is going on and I want to know why.”
They’re quiet, and judging by their wide eyes, surprised by my candid confession. I’ve never spoken about a woman before, let alone my feelings.
“And you’re sure she’s not involved? I mean, personally?” Cain asks.
I shake my head. “Not at all. She may be in danger, but doesn’t know why. She’s a teacher. She does yoga and stays up late grading papers. She’s not part of the Syndicate or Drago’s bullshit. Whatever they want with her, it’s put her in danger and that’s not her fault. I just want to keep her safe.”
But even as I speak, I know the truth is more complex, and the question lingers unspoken: Can I truly separate the darkness of my world from the light of hers?
The tension in the room hangs thick like a shroud, stifling any comfort that might have been gleaned from our high-rise sanctuary. Alan's words still echo in my mind, but it's Jet who breaks the silence first.
“Man,” he starts, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head, “I get where you're coming from, Silas. But this fixation on Hallie . . . it's messing with our flow. Our op tempo is off.” He flicks a glance at the array of screens displaying lines of code and security feeds—his digital dominion. “We can't afford distractions when we're this deep.”
I feel a coil tighten within me, frustration mingled with the sharp edge of truth. Jet's easygoing nature does little to soften the blow of his words. He's not wrong; I know it, even if it grates against every fiber of my being to admit it.
“Jet, I'm aware,” I reply tersely, my eyes sweeping across the room. They land on Blake, noting his silence.
Blake sits apart from the rest, a solitary figure with an air of detachment. His blue eyes are fixed on us, taking in every word, every shift in posture. There's a calculated stillness about him; always watching, always waiting. It's unnerving, knowing that beneath the charismatic veneer lies a mind as sharp and dangerous as any weapon in our arsenal.
“Something to add, Blake?” My voice cuts through the quiet, challenging him to reveal his thoughts.
He merely tilts his head, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Observing,” he says, and nothing more. His gaze doesn't waver, and the enigmatic response only heightens the wariness that prickles at the back of my neck.
“Great,” I mutter under my breath. Blake's silence does nothing to assuage the doubts already festering among us. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's uncertainty within my own ranks.
“Look,” I say, addressing them all, “I get it. We've got a job to do, and we'll do it. Hallie isn't part of this operation. She's separate from all this.” The assurance in my voice belies the knot of concern lodged firmly in my gut.
“We just want to make sure we continue our work at the level we’re known for,” Alan says, and that pisses me the fuck off.
“Alright everyone, let me get one thing straight. I’ve never wavered when it comes to what we do. I’ve never once put anything above a mission. I’m still the leader here. And if any of you don’t like it, you’re free to leave. But if any of you bring up Hallie again in a derogatory way, or question her motives . . . I will fuck you up.”
They’re quiet again, until Blake snorts. “Dude’s really down bad for this chick.”
I feel rage boiling my blood, and I’m about to plant a right hook on his jaw when he continues.
“About fuckin’ time, boss. You needed a woman in your life.”
Cain laughs, but has the good sense to look regrettable when I side-eye him.
“Let's just focus on the mission,” I add, hoping to steer us back on track. But the others are already laughing and Alan even pats me on the back.
“Fuckers.”