Chapter 23
Three days after Dale Sutton’s death, Harper stood in the FBI’s Portland field office, meeting with the Special Agent in Charge.
“Your record is impressive, Agent Sinclair,” SAC Lauren Price said, reviewing Harper’s file. “Exemplary closure rates, multiple commendations, expertise in serial violent crime. We’d be lucky to have you on the team.”
Harper tried not to appear too happy. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“The transfer wouldn’t be immediate—there’s paperwork, clearances, the usual bureaucratic nonsense.
But I can have you placed by the end of next month if you’re serious about this.
” Price looked up, her expression shrewd.
“Can I ask what’s prompting the move? You’ve been in Nevada for five years. That’s your home territory.”
Harper had expected this question. “I think it’s time for a change. A fresh perspective. And the Pacific Northwest has a higher concentration of the type of cases I specialize in.”
Price studied her for a long moment. “That’s the professional answer. What’s the personal one?”
Harper hesitated, then decided honesty was the best policy. “There’s someone here. Someone important.”
Price smiled. “Detective Kane from Blackridge, if I had to guess. Word travels fast in law enforcement circles, especially after you two closed nineteen connected murders.” She closed the file.
“Good. I’d rather have agents who have reasons to be invested in the region they’re serving. Makes for better work.”
“So the transfer is approved?” Harper asked, daring to hope.
“Pending the usual background checks and paperwork, yes.” Price stood and extended her hand across the wide desk. Harper followed suit and grasped it firmly. “Welcome to Portland, Agent Sinclair.”
Harper left the field office feeling lighter than she had in weeks. The decision had been made. She was staying. Building a life here, with Silas, instead of running back to Nevada and the ghosts that haunted her there.
Silas was waiting in the car, trying and failing to look casual. “Well?”
“It’s approved. I’ll be transferred by the end of next month.”
The smile that broke across his face was brilliant. “You’re sure? This is what you want?”
“I’m sure.” Harper slid into the passenger seat. “I want this. I want us. I want to see where this goes without the pressure of a case or the distance of two states between us.”
Silas pulled her into a kiss that was both tender and celebratory. When they broke apart, both were grinning.
“We should celebrate,” Silas said. “Dinner? Drinks? Whatever you want.”
“Actually...” Harper glanced at the time. It was barely three p.m. “What are you doing for the rest of the day?”
“Nothing that can’t be rescheduled. What did you have in mind?”
She hesitated, then made the leap. “Take me home. To your place. I want to see where you live, where I’ll be spending time when I move here.”
Silas’s eyes darkened with understanding. “Home it is.”
It didn’t take long to get there. Silas’s apartment was in a converted warehouse in Portland’s Pearl District—exposed brick walls, high ceilings, industrial fixtures mixed with comfortable furniture. Very different from Harper’s generic FBI-provided housing in Nevada.
“It’s beautiful,” Harper said, taking in the space. Large windows overlooked the city, the afternoon sun casting warm light across hardwood floors. Bookshelves lined one wall, filled with detective novels and military history. A well-used kitchen opened onto the living area. “Very you.”
“It’s home.” Silas came up behind her, hands settling on her hips. “And if you’re here, it’ll be even more so.”
Harper turned in his arms, struck by how natural this felt. How right. Three weeks ago, she’d been alone in a cabin in Blackridge, hunting a killer and keeping everyone at arm’s length. Now she was standing in Silas Kane’s apartment, making plans for a future together.
“I love you,” she said, because she could. Because he needed to hear it as much as she needed to say it.
“I love you too.” Silas cupped her face gently. “Thank you for taking this chance. For trusting this, trusting us.”
“Thank you for making me want to try.”
He dipped his head, and they kissed, slow and deep, taking their time now that they weren’t operating on borrowed moments between casework. Silas walked her backward toward the bedroom, neither breaking contact, mouths and hands speaking promises words couldn’t quite capture.
The bedroom was simpler than the living space—a large bed with dark-gray linens, minimal furniture, blackout curtains that Silas had clearly installed for someone who worked irregular hours. But it was clean and welcoming, and most importantly, it was his.
“I want you to know something,” Silas said, pausing before they went further. “This isn’t just about the physical connection for me. As much as I want you—and God, Harper, I want you—this is about building something real. Something that lasts.”
“I know.” Harper pulled her shirt over her head, watched his eyes track the movement. “But right now, I want to show you how much I want this future we’re building. How much I want you.”
Silas’s control visibly frayed. He pulled his own shirt off, reached for her, and then they were moving together—clothes discarded, barriers removed, nothing between them but skin and heat and need.
But this time was different from their first desperate encounter after the failed operation, or even the intense comfort-seeking after the warehouse. This was slower, more deliberate. Taking time to explore, to learn what made the other gasp or sigh or grip tighter.
Silas’s hands were gentle as they traced her curves, his mouth following the path they made.
Harper arched into his touch, her own hands mapping the landscape of his body—the muscles earned from years of physical work, the scars that told stories he’d shared with her in whispered confidences, the places that made him shudder when she touched them just right.
“You’re beautiful,” Silas murmured against her skin. “So damn beautiful.”
“So are you.” Harper pulled him up to kiss her properly. “Now stop talking and show me how much you want this future.”
Silas smiled against her mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”
He took his time, building the pleasure slowly, attentively. Harper had never felt so thoroughly worshipped, so completely seen. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word was a promise of commitment, of choosing her not just in this moment but in all the moments to come.
When he finally joined with her, it was with an intimacy that went deeper than physical. This was connection, trust, vulnerability. This was choosing to be fully present with another person, to let them see all the broken places and love them anyway.
They moved together in a rhythm that felt both new and ancient, building toward something that transcended the physical act. Harper felt tears prick her eyes—not from pain or sadness, but from the overwhelming emotion of finally, finally letting someone all the way in.
“I’ve got you,” Silas whispered, his forehead pressed to hers, their breaths mingling. “I’ve got you, Harper. Always.”
“Always,” she echoed, and then words became impossible as pleasure crested over them both.
Afterward, they lay tangled together, hearts still racing, skin cooling in the afternoon air. Silas pulled the blanket over them, tucked Harper against his side where she fit perfectly.
“That was...” Harper trailed off, unable to find adequate words.
“Yeah.” Silas pressed a kiss to her temple. “It was.”
They dozed for a while, wrapped in each other and the peaceful certainty of having made the right choice. When Harper woke, the sun was setting, painting the room in shades of orange and pink.
Silas was already awake, watching her with an expression so tender it made her chest ache.
“How long have you been awake?” she asked.
“A while. I was just...thinking.” He began tracing lazy circles across her chest and abdomen, leaving goose bumps behind.
“About?”
“About how three weeks ago, I thought you were the most frustrating person I’d ever met. Arrogant FBI agent waltzing into my investigation, acting like local law enforcement was incompetent.”
Harper laughed. “To be fair, I did think you were an obstinate detective who couldn’t see past his own ego.”
“And now?”
“Now I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” She said it simply, honestly. “You made me want to try again. To believe that maybe I could have something real with someone, that I didn’t have to face the darkness alone.”
“You never have to face it alone again.” Silas’s fingers moved higher and traced lazy patterns on her shoulder. “We’re a team. In work and in life.”
“A team,” Harper repeated, liking the sound of it. “I can work with that.”
They ordered pizza—a local place Silas swore had the best pies in Portland—and ate it sitting on his couch, talking about logistics.
Where Harper would live when she transferred—here, if she wanted, or they could find a place together.
How they’d handle cases that might require travel—communication, trust, making it work.
What their future might look like—terrifying and exciting in equal measure.
“I want you to know,” Silas said as they were finishing the last of the pizza, “I’m not expecting you to give up your career for this. I know your work is important to you. I would never ask you to choose between the job and me.”
“I know. But I also know that balance is important. That I can’t pour everything into the work and have nothing left for the people I love.” Harper set down her plate and took his hand. “You’ve taught me that. That it’s okay to want both.”
“As long as you remember that when the next big case comes along and you’re tempted to work twenty-hour days for weeks on end.”
“I will if you will.”
“Deal.”
Later, as they got ready for bed—and wasn’t that domestic, brushing teeth side by side, Silas lending her a T-shirt to sleep in—Harper caught sight of them in the bathroom mirror.
Silas in his sweatpants, hair still damp from the shower.
Her in his too-large FBI academy T-shirt, face scrubbed clean.
They looked...normal. Happy. Like people who’d figured out how to build something good together.
“What are you smiling about?” Silas asked, catching her expression.
“Just...this. Us. The fact that we went from wanting to strangle each other to this in three weeks.”
“Technically, I never wanted to strangle you. Shake some sense into you, maybe.”
Harper didn’t bother to hide her smile. “Same thing.”
“Not even close.” Silas wrapped his arms around her from behind, both of them looking at their reflection. “But I’m glad we worked it out.”
“Me too.”
In bed, Silas pulled her close, her back against his chest, his arm secure around her waist. It was quickly becoming Harper’s favorite position—being held like this, safe and warm and wanted.
“I’m going to miss the cabin,” Harper said into the darkness. “It was nice having a temporary home away from everything.”
“We can go back. Visit on weekends, use it as a getaway when we need space from the city.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ll even cook you breakfast and make sure you actually eat it instead of surviving on coffee alone.”
Harper laughed, then sobered. “Thank you. For everything. For seeing past my walls and being patient while I figured out how to let you in.”
He kissed the back of her head. “Thank you for letting me in. For trusting me with the parts of yourself you usually keep hidden.” Silas’s voice was soft in the darkness. “I know it wasn’t easy.”
“It was terrifying. But it was worth it.” Even now, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to admit all of this if she wasn’t facing away and speaking into the dark.
“We’re going to be okay, Harper. Better than okay. We’re going to build something amazing together.”
Harper believed him. For the first time in years, she believed in a future that held more than just work and solitude and the constant hunt for darkness. She believed in mornings waking up next to someone who loved her, in shared meals and inside jokes and building a life that felt like home.
“I’m going to hold you to that,” she whispered.
“Please do.”
Harper closed her eyes, listening to Silas’s steady heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. Tomorrow she’d drive back to Nevada and start the process of packing up her life there, submitting transfer paperwork, saying goodbye to colleagues who’d become friends over five years.
But it didn’t feel like an ending. It felt like a beginning.
In one month, she’d be back in Portland permanently. Working out of the FBI field office, collaborating with Blackridge PD on cases, coming home to Silas at the end of the day. Building the future they’d started mapping out in stolen moments between hunting a killer.
Dale Sutton had tried to drag her into his darkness, to convince her they were the same.
But he’d been wrong. Harper understood darkness, yes—but she also understood light.
The warmth of connection, the comfort of being truly seen, the hope that came from choosing to build something good instead of destroying.
And as she drifted toward sleep, wrapped in Silas’s arms, Harper thought about the nineteen women who hadn’t gotten this chance. Who’d had their futures stolen by a man obsessed with his own twisted logic.
She couldn’t bring them back. Couldn’t undo the harm that had been done.
But she could honor them by living fully, by choosing connection over isolation, by building something beautiful out of the ashes of trauma.
She could choose hope.
And for the first time in a very long time, that felt like enough.