Chapter 33 Silas
SILAS
The Hayabusa purrs beneath me as I pull into the driveway, my body aching in that particular way that comes from hours of controlled violence.
Martin Chen confirmed everything—the embezzlement, the desperation, his debts.
He also confirmed he’d been skimming for Marcus Romano, one of our competitors trying to destabilize our operations from the inside.
Chen won’t be a problem anymore. Neither will Romano.
But the blood soaked into my jeans, my boots, my shirt—that’s a problem.
I’d done what I could at the warehouse, scrubbing my face and hands in the industrial sink until the water ran clear, but my change of clothes are the ones I’m wearing.
Leather riding jacket over a black t-shirt that’s stiff with dried blood in places the jacket didn’t protect, jeans that look almost black in spots instead of their usual blue, boots that definitely need to be burned.
It’s been a long fucking day.
I kill the engine and sit for a moment, letting the adrenaline drain from my system.
Through Parker’s downstairs window—where she lives with the boys—I can see movement in the kitchen.
Parker’s there, her hair pulled up in a messy bun, wearing one of those oversized sweaters she favors.
Noah and Liam are on step stools beside her, clearly “helping” with whatever she’s making for dinner.
She’d invited us over. All three of us. Family dinner, she’d called it, her voice warm and slightly nervous over the phone this morning. Like she was still getting used to the idea that we could be a family, that this thing between us could actually work.
I’m hoping it’s lasagna. The woman can make a mean lasagna.
I remember from years ago, back when she was still in high school and would cook for us when our assignments ran late or we were too lazy.
Rich, meaty, layered with cheese that got all bubbly and golden on top. My mouth waters just thinking about it.
But I can’t go over there like this.
Parker wouldn’t mind—she knows what I do, what I am, has never flinched from the violence that’s as much a part of me as breathing.
But the boys don’t know. Don’t understand what the Carter organization does or what my role is within it.
They think I work “security.” Think Uncle Silas is just really good at keeping people safe.
I don’t want to scare them. Don’t want them to see me covered in another man’s blood and have questions I can’t answer. They’re five. All they’d need is to tell a teacher that Uncle Silas came over covered in blood and all hell would break loose.
It’s not like the school doesn’t know what family Noah, Liam, Jimmy, and Lottie belong to—the Carter name opens doors and closes mouths in equal measure.
But I’d rather not put anyone through the unnecessary hassle of dealing with curious protective services sniffing around because a kindergartener mentioned something alarming during circle time.
I head into our house. The garage smells like motor oil and leather, familiar and grounding. I strip off my jacket, hanging it carefully on the hook by the door, then toe off my boots and leave them in the mudroom where they won’t track blood through the house.
Not that the guys would care. More so I’m practicing being a functional normal adult that can be around kids.
The shower in my bathroom runs hot enough to scald, steam filling the space as I strip off the rest of my clothes and step under the spray.
Water turns pink, then red, then pink again as it swirls down the drain.
I scrub until my skin feels raw, until every trace of Martin Chen and Marcus Romano is gone, until I can look at my hands and see just skin instead of evidence.
By the time I’m done, the water runs clear and I feel almost human again.
I dress in clean jeans and a dark grey henley, running a towel through my hair as I head downstairs.
The house is unusually quiet. Usually if both Jace and Cal are home, there’s music playing or the sound of them arguing about something stupid or the comfortable noise of people who’ve lived together long enough to exist in each other’s space without friction.
But tonight there’s just silence, heavy and oppressive.
I find them in Cal’s office—the room that’s basically a hacker’s wet dream, monitors and servers and enough computing power to launch a fucking satellite.
Cal is hunched over his keyboard, fingers flying across the keys with that manic energy he gets when he’s deep into something.
Jace stands behind him, arms crossed, his expression carved from stone.
They both look tense.
I wonder why.
“What’s up?” I ask from the doorway.
Cal’s hands still on the keyboard. Jace’s jaw tightens further—something I didn’t think was possible.
“Parker’s going to the gala with Ryan Matthews,” Jace says, his voice flat. Controlled in that way that means he’s barely holding it together.
The words land like a punch. “What?”
“Charles set it up. Decided it would be good optics for her to attend with someone from an established family.” Jace’s hands clench into fists. “She agreed.”
“She said it was just as friends,” Cal adds, not looking away from his screens. “That it wasn’t a date. But—”
“But Charles thinks Ryan might be the father,” Jace finishes. “Of one or both of the boys. He asked Cal to dig into their paternity. Find out who Noah and Liam’s father is.”
Ice floods my veins, followed immediately by fire. “He what?”
“He’s concerned about optics,” Cal says, and there’s something bitter in his voice. “About Parker being back after six years with twins and no explanation. He wants to make sure there’s nothing problematic about their paternity that could be used against her.”
“So he asked you to invade her privacy? Dig into her medical records without her knowledge?”
“Pretty much.” Cal’s fingers start moving again, code scrolling across the screen. “And I’ve been trying to break through her firewalls to access the twins’ medical records.”
The admission makes my vision go red.
“You’re doing it?” My voice comes out dangerous. Low. The tone that usually precedes violence. “You’re actually fucking doing it?”
“I don’t have a choice!” Cal spins in his chair to face me, and there’s genuine anguish in his amber eyes.
“If I don’t, Charles will just find someone else.
Someone who doesn’t give a shit about her privacy or her feelings.
At least this way I can control what he sees, how the information is presented—”
“At least this way you betray her trust before someone else can?” I take a step into the room. Then another. “That’s your fucking justification?”
“Silas—” Jace starts.
“No.” I turn my anger on him. “You’re okay with this? You’re just standing there while he hacks into Parker’s life?”
“I’m not okay with any of this.” Jace’s voice is tight. “But Cal has a point. If Charles wants this information, he’ll get it one way or another. Cal doing it means we have some control over the situation.”
“Control.” I laugh, sharp and humorless. “You think we have control? Parker is going to a gala with Ryan Matthews—a man Charles apparently thinks could be the father of her children. Cal is breaking into her medical records. And you’re justifying it because at least we’re the ones betraying her?”
The words hang in the air like smoke.
“What would you have us do?” Cal demands. “Tell Charles no? Refuse? And then what—he gets suspicious, starts asking why we’re so protective of Parker’s privacy, starts digging into our relationship with her?”
“I’d have you tell Parker the truth,” I snap. “Tell her what Charles asked. Let her decide how to handle it. Instead of going behind her back like she’s a fucking target instead of the woman we supposedly love.”
“I do love her,” Cal says quietly. “That’s why I’m trying to protect her.”
“By lying to her?”
“By making sure that if Charles finds out the truth, it comes from me, us, and not some stranger who’ll use it against her.” Cal turns back to his monitors. “I’m not looking for dirt, Silas. I’m looking for answers. And if one of those boys is mine, yours, Jace’s, we have a right to know.”
“You have a right,” I repeat slowly. “What about Parker’s rights? What about her choice to keep that information private until she was ready to share it?”
“She’s had six years to be ready,” Cal shoots back. “At what point does her need for privacy outweigh our right to know if we’re fathers?”
The question hits harder than I want to admit.
Because he’s not wrong. We’ve been patient, waiting for Parker to open up, to trust us with the full truth.
But every day that passes without answers feels like another day of being kept at arm’s length, another reminder that maybe she doesn’t trust us as much as we trust her.
I know neither of the boys are mine. There’s no way, but—
“This is about Ryan Matthews,” I say finally. “Charles plants the seed that Ryan could be the father, and suddenly you’re both spiraling.”
Jace’s expression darkens. “He said Ryan’s been helping Parker while she was in California. That he’s been in contact with her, checking in. That maybe there’s history we don’t know about.”
“And you believe him? You know that’s bullshit.”
“I don’t know what to believe,” Jace admits. “Parker agreed to go to that gala with him. She’s kept the boys’ paternity secret for years. What if there’s a reason for that? What if—”
“What if you’re both being fucking idiots?” I cut him off. “Parker chose us. She’s stayed with us. She’s trying to build something with us. And the first time things get complicated, the first time someone suggests maybe she’s not completely ours, you both fall apart?”
“That’s not fair,” Cal says.
“Isn’t it?” I look between them—these men I’ve known my entire life, who I’d die for without hesitation.
“Parker came to us. She told us about the boys. She explained why she ran, why she kept them hidden. And she chose to try this thing with the three of us. And now you’re repaying that trust by hacking into her private medical records because Charles thinks Ryan Matthews might be in the picture?
You’re doing exactly what we all agreed we wouldn’t do. How am I the only one keeping my word?”
Silence.
“I’m going to dinner,” I say finally. “At Parker’s place.
Like she invited us to do. And I’m going to sit with her and those boys and pretend that I don’t know you’re over here betraying her.
But when this blows up—and it will blow up, Cal, because this kind of thing always does—I’m going to remember that you chose Charles’s paranoia over Parker’s trust.”
I turn and walk out before either of them can respond, my hands shaking with rage and something that feels dangerously close to heartbreak.
Because they’re right about one thing—we don’t have all the answers. We don’t know if these children are Jace’s or Cal’s. We don’t know if Ryan Matthews has been in Parker’s life all along—though I’m pretty fucking sure he’s spouting bullshit on that one.
But we should trust Parker enough to ask instead of digging through her private records like she’s the enemy.
I cross the yard toward her house, toward the light spilling from the kitchen windows, toward the sound of her laugh and the boys’ excited chatter. Toward the life we’re supposed to be building.
And I wonder how long it’ll take before our doubts destroy everything we’ve barely started to create.