Page 29 of Silence and Surrender

“Because you’ve been hitting the training harder lately. With more focus.” He began wrapping his hands for our boxing session, movements practiced. “Like you’re preparing for something specific.”

I thought of what Isabella and I were undercovering. “Just staying sharp.”

“Right.” His voice was dry. “That’s why you added close combat to your training. Just staying sharp.”

Dawn seeped through London’s haze, gilding the city’s slate edges with reluctant light. In a few hours I’d be back in my suit, back in my legal world of paperwork and carefully hidden lies.

“The bank hired some new security consultants,” he said casually. Too casually. “Your boy Rodger reached out last week.”

I stilled. “What?”

“Wanted a security audit. Pretty sure he was testing waters. Seeing if I had connections to you.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That I’d think about it.” Stryker finished wrapping his hands. “Man’s got military bearing. Not Special Forces, but something. He’s not just a suit.”

I processed this as I wrapped my own hands. Rodger Ross always struck me as someone who didn’t quite belong in the boardroom.

“You’re not surprised,” Stryker observed.

“Not anymore.” I thought of the files hidden in my office. Of art that existed in documentation only. “Nothing surprises me lately.”

He studied me for a long moment. “That art expert you mentioned last week. The one with the authentication questions.”

“Isabella.” I sighed. Her name felt different in the pre-dawn quiet. Almost forbidden. More real.

“She’s part of what’s got you hitting the training harder?”

I hesitated. “She’s...seeing things at the bank. Things that don’t add up.”

Recognition flickered in his stare. Or maybe it was memory. “Dangerous things?”

“Yeah.” I met his gaze. “The kind of things that make me glad I didn’t stop at basic self-defense.”

He was silent for a moment, just the sound of our breathing and the distant hum of London awakening. When he spoke, his voice had changed. Harder. “Sometimes the worst fights aren’t physical.”

“No,” I agreed. “But being ready for anything helps.”

“Yeah.” He moved back to the mats. “Which is why we’re going to work on something new today.”

For the next hour, he pushed me harder than ever. Close combat in tight spaces. Breaking holds. How to protect someone else while defending yourself.

“Your instinct will be to fight,” he said as we drilled escape techniques. “To take them on. But sometimes the smartest move is getting clear. Understanding?”

I nodded, muscles burning. “Clear first. Fight later.”

“Good.” He demonstrated another hold break. “And Colton?”

“Yeah?”

“If you ever need more than training...if whatever’s happening at that bank goes sideways...” He let the offer hang.

The certainty in his voice sent chills down my spine. “You think it might?”

“I think nothing at banks like yours is ever simple.” Something dark crossed his features. “And I think sometimes the most dangerous people wear suits and speak softly.”

Like the men who signed our shipping manifests.

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