Page 84 of The Silencer

“I don’t need anyone coming with me,” I tell Viktor as I head out to the gardens. “Just point me in the right direction.”

I turn to a lone soldier standing outside and he nods to the left, toward the edge of my property. At least someone is still loyal to me.

I’m going to make Tatum suffer for this. He knows to stay near the gardens.

If he’s with Bane… My strides are long and sure as I walk through my property, not even bothering to look around. Damnable boy.

I should put him over my knee.

In the distance, I see Teddy, a large figure in the shadows, his arms folded, his sunglasses off. They better be, it’s night now, only the moon is lighting my path.

My feet crunch over the stones I had placed here years ago to make sure that my kids tracked in as little mud as possible when running to their secret hideout. As I approach him, I see Teddy shift nervously.

“I don’t blame you,” I say as I approach. “Where is he?”

He tilts his head back, and I glance up at the treehouse that I had built for my sons when they were younger. I spent thousands on it and they spent so many hours a day here, living out their imaginations.

It was worth every penny.

My chest tightens, seeing the rickety ladder that’s aged with time. It’s dark in the opening above me, and I fold my arms across my chest.

“Come down here, Tatum.”

I don’t hear anything, and I feel my cock twitch between my legs. Something about him pushing my buttons…

Laura never did this. She was always so agreeable.

But Tatum. He’s not. He’s the opposite in every way. He lives to make me feel things.

My hands grasp on to the rickety wood and I pull myself up, memories flooding me as I ascend. Memories of catching Diablo and Angelo up here—Diablo with a lighter, Angelo with his flowers.

My sons.

My life.

My head peers over the edge of the floor, and I see Tatum seated, leaning against the wall, a small smile on his face.

“You actually climbed up here,” he says with a grin, taunting me.

I pull myself the rest of the way up, my knees hitting the rough wood floor. It’s a large space, big enough for two kids to spend their days here. I look over and see the small brown couch I had hefted into this space years ago, and the small ratty rug that Tatum is lounging on, the corners burned from Diablo trying to light it on fire.

“You weren’t in my room,” I say.

“I know.”

My tongue slides across the front of my teeth. “And yet, here you are.”

He inhales deeply and our eyes meet in a clash of desire and yearning. “And yet, here I am.”

I lean back on my heels and my hands fist on my thighs.

My eyes rove over him, drifting from his heaving chest to his loose pants, the way his cock strains against the fabric.

I reach out and grab on to his ankle, pulling him toward me. He sags down the wall and lets out a low moan.

“This would have been more comfortable in my bed.”

“We can go there later,” he tells me. “You can’t tempt me with a chase and then expect me to just obey.”

---