Page 98 of Silence and Surrender

I watched understanding dawn in Colton’s eyes as pieces clicked into place—Sari’s efficient handling of sensitive documents, her subtle warnings about Rodger’s movements, her precise knowledge of bank security.

“All this time...” His voice held a mix of admiration and chagrin. “Right under my nose.”

“She couldn’t tell you,” I squeezed his hand. “It would have compromised everything. But I figured it out and confronted her. Her Interpol connections are crucial—they’ll handle the legal side, the arrests, the formal investigation. We just need to make sure they get all the evidence they need.”

“You’ve been one step ahead of me since the first day we met,” he said, and the pride in his voice made something warm bloom in my chest.

As the others discussed tactical details, I pulled up my laptop, showing them the digital weaknesses I’d identified. “Their system has gaps—small ones, but exploitable. When Interpol accesses their network, they’ll need these entry points to secure the evidence before anyone can destroy it.”

“The timing has to be exact,” Stryker warned. “Once the operation starts, we’ll have maybe twelve hours before they realize the full scope. Before they can move assets or destroy evidence.”

“Or kill the girls,” I added quietly, remembering the faces behind those shipping manifests. The women who had been trapped like I was. My hand curved protectively over our child, drawing strength from Colton’s steady presence behind me.

We spent the next hours refining details. Escape routes. Contingencies. Every possible scenario planned for with precise documentation. My father’s old notes lay among our new plans, his investigation now finally reaching its conclusion through my hands.

“Your role is the most dangerous,” I said to Colton, my eyes meeting his. “Maintaining your cover until the very last moment, making sure Interpol has access to everything they need. If they suspect you before Interpol can move...”

“They won’t,” he said with quiet confidence. “I’ll play my part perfectly until Interpol is ready to act.”

As the others left, I turned in Colton’s arms. “Ready to help expose it all? To end this nightmare?”

“More than ready.” He pulled me close, and I breathed in his strength, drawing resolve from his fierce protectiveness.

And the promise of justice to come.

We would end this…for the girls trapped in shipping containers, for my father who died asking the wrong questions, for our child who would grow up in a world with one less horror in it.

The evening was warm, but I still pulled Colton’s sweater closer as I stood on our bedroom’s terrace. A couple of months of nutritious meals and sunshine had begun to restore what captivity had taken. My reflection in the window showed someone closer to who I used to be—though changed forever in ways that mattered.

Knowing the baby was Colton’s had transformed everything. Each morning, I woke to his hand curved protectively over my stomach, his touch gentle but possessive. The doctor had cleared me physically, but we’d both needed time—me to feel whole in my body again, him to trust that I was truly ready.

Tonight felt different. The air was heavy with the scent of fresh lavender from Allegra’s garden, and Colton’s earlier kisses had carried an edge of carefully restrained need. I knew he wanted me; knew he was struggling in this long period of abstinence. From the rumors I’d heard before I truly knew him, he was a sexual being in nature, entertaining most of the available and willing corporate lawyers in London and beyond. But his restraint had been touching, endearing him to me even more. We’d been building to this, each touch growing more heated, each moment of intimacy stretching longer before one of us pulled back.

The door opened behind me, and I felt him before I saw him—that subtle shift in the air that always accompanied his presence. His hands settled on my shoulders, thumbs working the tension from my neck.

“Cold?” His voice was soft and intimate in the gathering darkness of dusk.

I leaned back against his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart. “Not anymore.”

His arms slid around me, one hand splaying across my stomach where our child grew. The gesture was familiar now, reassuring. But tonight it felt different, charged with desire rather than just protection.

I turned in his arms, needing to see his face. He’d changed too in these past weeks, the haunted look in his eyes replaced by something warmer, deeper. His hair was longer, falling over his eyes, making him look young and vulnerable. I swept it off his forehead gently, and he turned his head into my hand. His hands settled on my waist, thumbs stroking me through the cashmere of his borrowed sweater I was wearing.

“You’re sure?” he asked softly. “We can wait—”

I stretched up to kiss him, cutting off his words. This kiss was less careful, more wanting. His hands tightened on my waist as he deepened it, and I felt the tremor of restraint in his muscles.

“I want this,” I whispered against his mouth. “I want you. We’ve done this backwards, it seems. Here we are, expecting a baby together, in love…yet we’ve hardly been intimate.”

He froze for a second, almost as if some kind of deep revelation flashed before his eyes. “It’s been better this way. For the longest time…I hadn’t had any intimacy. Sex was just…sex. But what we’ve shared…it’s been so much better. What we have…it’s what’s going to make this utterly amazing.”

“I want you, Colton Moreau. Now.”

Something fierce crossed his handsome features. Then he was lifting me, carrying me to the bed we’d shared chastely these past weeks. He laid me down with infinite care, hovering over me carefully.

“Let me see you,” he murmured, hands going to the hem of the sweater. “Please.”

I lifted my arms, letting him pull it over my head. The night air kissed my bare skin; I’d stopped wearing anything underneath his sweaters days ago since my breasts were sore. His deep intake of breath made heat pool low in my belly.

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