Chapter 25 Poe
TWENTY-FIVE
POE
The house is quiet except for the soft, even rhythm of Orchid’s breathing beside me.
She’s curled on her side, one arm tucked under the pillow, dark hair spilled across the white sheets like ink on paper.
The sheet has slipped down to her waist, leaving the smooth curve of her bare back exposed to the cool night air.
Moonlight filters through the blinds in thin silver bars, painting stripes across her skin. She looks peaceful. Almost fragile.
I can’t sleep.
My body’s exhausted, muscles heavy and satisfied in the best kind of way, but my mind refuses to shut off.
It races in tight, frantic circles, jumping from one worry to the next like it’s trying to outrun something I can’t see.
Enley. Is she okay right now? Has Render already reached her?
I wish I could get an update. Just one text, one word, anything to tell me my sister is safe and breathing and no longer a pawn in Serafina’s sick game.
The not-knowing is a knife twisting slowly in my gut.
I shift carefully onto my back so I don’t wake Orchid.
The mattress dips slightly under my weight.
She makes a soft sound in her sleep and turns toward me, one hand sliding across the sheet until her fingers brush my ribs.
Even unconscious, she seeks me out. The simple touch sends a warm spark through my chest, but it’s quickly swallowed by the storm in my head.
What if the team is too late? What if Render walks into a trap?
What if Enley is already hurt worse than the bruise in that photo?
The thought makes my throat tighten. I’ve spent years protecting her, keeping her away from the dark shit that follows people like me.
Now she’s paying for my mistakes. For my choices.
For every time I thought I could play hero and stay one step ahead of the monsters.
And then there’s Orchid.
I turn my head and watch her sleep. Her lips are slightly parted, lashes casting faint shadows on her cheeks.
She looks younger like this, stripped of the sharp edges she wears during the day.
Tonight she’d been fire and command, taking exactly what she wanted from me and giving me everything in return.
But now, in the quiet dark, she seems vulnerable in a way that makes my protective instincts flare.
I care about her. More than I should. More than makes any sense in this fucked-up situation.
She’s the woman holding the leash, the one who could end Enley’s life with a single phone call if Serafina ordered it.
Yet I have seen the cracks in her armor.
The hesitation when I refused the hack. The softness in her voice when she talked about her grandmother.
The way she looked at me like she’s fighting the same pull I feel.
Is she really the enemy? Or is she just as trapped as I am?
The question loops in my head until I can’t lie still any longer.
I ease out of bed as quietly as I can, pulling on my sweatpants and a t-shirt.
Orchid stirs but doesn’t wake. I stand there for a moment, watching the rise and fall of her chest, then slip out of the room and close the door behind me with a soft click.
The hallway is dark. The house feels too still, too empty.
I move downstairs on bare feet, the hardwood cool under my soles.
The office light is still on from earlier, casting a blue glow into the hall.
I should go back to the hack. I should keep feeding Serafina the dummy data and buy Ozzy and the team as much time as possible.
But my feet carry me past the office door and into the living room instead.
I pace for a while, running my hands through my hair, trying to burn off the restless energy.
The party next door has finally quieted, but the faint smell of charcoal and beer still lingers in the air.
Tammy and Mark. Those two are too convenient, too persistent.
I can’t shake the fucking feeling that they’re watching us more closely than they should.
Or maybe I’m just paranoid. Everything feels like a threat right now.
I wander into the kitchen, open the fridge for no real reason, then close it again.
My eyes land on Orchid’s phone on the counter.
It’s not the usual encrypted one she uses when she talks to Serafina.
This one is different — sleeker, black, with a subtle matte finish and a small scratch on the bottom edge. My pulse picks up.
The phone rings.
The sound is soft but cuts through the quiet like a blade. The screen lights up with an unknown number. No name. No contact.
I stare at it. My hand hovers. I want to answer it.
I want to know who the hell is calling her in the middle of the night on a phone she keeps separate from her Goldenbell work.
But I don’t know who would be on the other end.
It could be Serafina testing her. It could be someone else entirely.
If I answer and it’s the wrong person, I could blow everything.
The ringing stops. The screen goes dark.
I glance toward the stairs. Orchid is still asleep.
I make a decision. I pick up the phone, slip it into the pocket of my sweatpants, and head straight for the office.
My heart’s hammering and shit as I sit down at the triple monitors.
I power up the isolated network and start tracing the number carefully, layering my access through multiple proxies so nothing traces back to the safehouse.
It’s risky as fuck, but the need to know is stronger than the fear of getting caught.
The trace takes longer than I want. I keep one ear on the stairs, listening for any sound from above. Minutes stretch. Finally, the results populate on the screen.
FBI field office prefix.
The letters hit me like a physical blow. FBI. The phone is registered to a federal agent. Not just any burner. It’s a legitimate, traceable line connected to the Bureau.
I sit back in the chair, staring at the screen until the words blur.
Orchid has an FBI phone. A secret line she keeps hidden from Serafina.
My mind races, connecting dots I didn’t even know were there.
Is she undercover? Has she been playing Serafina this entire time?
Is that why she seemed so conflicted about the hack?
Why she looked almost relieved when I refused to burn Maddox?
Or is this something worse? A double game? A trap I’ve walked right into?
I wipe all evidence of the trace, close the windows, and power everything down.
My hands are shaking as I slip the phone back onto the counter.
Exactly where I found it. I head back upstairs.
Orchid’s still asleep, breathing deep and steady.
I watch her for a long moment, the rise and fall of her chest, the way her hair fans across the pillow.
Is she FBI?
The question echoes in my head as I slip back into bed beside her.
I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, every muscle tense.
If she’s undercover, then everything changes.
She’s not the enemy. She’s on our side. Or at least on some side that isn’t Serafina’s.
But if she is, why has she not told me? Why keep me in the dark while Enley is still in danger?
Or maybe she’s playing both sides. Maybe she’s using me the same way Serafina is. The thought makes my stomach turn.
I can’t sleep. My mind is a mess of questions and half-formed theories. Enley. Render. Ozzy moving in. The FBI phone. Orchid’s soft breathing beside me.
I turn onto my side and watch her sleep.
She looks so peaceful. So far from the woman who holds my sister’s life in her hands.
I reach out and brush a strand of hair off her cheek, careful not to wake her.
My fingers linger on her skin. I care about her.
Deeply. More than I should in this nightmare we are living.
And now this new piece of information has shattered whatever fragile understanding I thought I had.
Is she FBI?
The question loops endlessly, refusing to let me rest.
I lie there in the dark, heart pounding, mind racing, while the woman beside me sleeps like she doesn’t carry the weight of the world on her shoulders.
Whatever the answer is, it changes everything.
And I have no idea if I’m ready for what comes next.