Chapter 20
Twenty
Silas
I leave Hallie in my bed after covering her face in kisses and promising to never lie to her again. I know it’ll take time before she forgives me, but she didn’t fight me again when I told her I loved her. So I consider it a win.
“Back to work,” I command, returning to the heart of the operation. The click of keyboards fills the space again, each keystroke a step closer to unraveling The Syndicate's grip on our lives.
A hush falls over the room as screens flicker to life, casting a sterile glow over faces set in concentration. My team's eyes dart across digital maps, complex diagrams, and lists of names that could be the key to unlocking The Syndicate's hold on Teddy's past.
“Look for patterns, any common ground,” I instruct, my gaze locked onto the web of connections sprawling before us. The hum of computers blends with the muted sounds of concentration. A tap here, a click there—it's the quiet symphony of analysis.
“Si, check this out.” Jet's voice cuts through the silence, a thread of excitement laced within. I move to his station, muscles tensing, preparing for what he's about to reveal.
He points to a cluster of data points where Teddy’s world and The Syndicate’s operations intersect. It's a tangle of transactions, locations, and shadowy figures, but it's there—the beginnings of a map that might lead us through this labyrinth of crime. And they converge on St. Peter’s Catholic Church in downtown Alcott.
“The rosary. It has to be connected,” I say, as I explain the details from the mysterious package Hallie received.
If the church was in on this, or part of the Syndicate’s plan, then this goes deeper than we thought.
“Keep digging,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me. “Every name, every place—it could make all the difference.”
I can't shake the guilt gnawing at me, the weight of responsibility bearing down. I don’t necessarily regret killing Teddy. Killing is a part of who I am, more than almost anything else. But I regret hurting Hallie. I regret keeping such a dark secret from her.
I push the thoughts away, focusing instead on the myriad threads we need to untangle.
“We had no clue why anyone wanted Teddy dead. Hallie says he wasn’t involved in anything criminal. So where is the connection? Why did they want him dead?”
“I want to know why they bothered pretending to be someone else ordering the hit?” Cain questions. “I remember that call, I took it. They went out of their way to make it seem like just another drug job.”
“They don’t do anything without a reason,” Alan says.
“Si, look at this.” Blake's voice slices through the tension, a knife-point of focus. I move to his station, my gaze falling on the monitor where numbers and names bleed into one another.
“Scroll back,” I command, my voice low but sharp.
He complies, and there it is—a transaction, hidden beneath layers of digital obfuscation, but clear as day to eyes trained to see through deception. Money, a substantial amount, transferred from an account flagged by our intel as Syndicate-controlled. The recipient? A shell company, but the trail doesn't end there. It points to Teddy.
“God damn it,” I mutter, my throat tight with a cocktail of emotions too potent to swallow. “He brought this to her doorstep after all.”
“It doesn’t explain what they want with Hallie, but it’s a damn good start.”
“So if Drago was working with the Syndicate and was presumably supposed to kidnap Hallie—assuming that’s why he had her photos and info all over his hard drive—we have to figure they think she knows something about Teddy that can help them.”
“Maybe dear ol’ Ted stole from his overlords,” Jet says with a smirk.
Cain’s eyes narrow. “Bank account number? Offshore?”
I shake my head. “It’s a possibility, but Hallie swears she doesn’t know anything. Same thing she told the reporter. Wait . . . ”
“You think he might be compromised?”
“Anything is possible when the Syndicate is involved.”
“Dammit. I should have never agreed to the Senator job. Never should have put us on their payroll. That’s on me,” I say.
Jet shakes his head. “We do this job, we end up working for some gnarly people, Si. We all know it.”
Cain slaps my back. “It’s not your fault. Just the way of the game.”
“Well, we’re going to play the game and win this time.”
“Fuck yeah we are. Let’s take down those motherfuckers.”
“The problem with the Syndicate,” Alan says, the older voice of reason, “is that we don’t know who the fuck we’re dealing with. They’re ghosts. They operate on a global scale so fucking wide that if you go searching for who they are, they have the power to shut it down.”
I cross my arms. “We might not be as big and far reaching, but I trust our work. I trust us. ”
“Yeah,” Cain says with a nod. “If anyone has the power to go up against them, it’s Ares. It’s our team.”
I don’t get emotional at work. Not ever.
But if I did, it would be now. Knowing that my team has my back in ending this threat against the woman I love.