Page 34 of Silas's Sweetheart

He snarled at the night lights Popi had found and plugged in the sockets in his room as he stepped into the bathroom. He had a pee, washed his hands, avoided looking in the mirror, then stomped back to the bed. One look at the rumpled sheets and he realized going back to sleep was going to be impossible with the turmoil battling with his insides.

He laid all the blame on Taylin for mentioning this shit in the first place in the group chat, and Jupiter, who was also on his shit list for being at the damn club and seeing all the PAs!

Damn sex clubs. What fucking madness was this where all the PAs went out together?

Had Jupiter mentioned the one he likes to visit to Wilder? To one of the other PAs at work? Was this why they had all gone out?

Was it a double standard that he’d frequented a sex heat club and was part owner of one?

Of course it was.

He knew it, hated it, but couldn’t seem to stop himself from wanting to hunt Ziggy down and demand to know what the fuck he was playing at. Like he should have done after Booker dropped the bombshell on him.

He muttered and cursed how out of sorts he felt, going to the large chest of drawers to drag a drawer open and find a pair of loose fitting sweats to put on. In the hallway, he swore once more at the lamp switched onjust for him.He sniffed, sticking his nose in the air, and went downstairs, keeping his steps light despite wanting to stomp.

Popi and Dad were only down the hallway and he really did not want to disturb them, then have to explain why he was in a foul mood. Popi had ways of making them all want to spill faster than emptying a glass of water down the sink. It was a damn talent, and one Silas wasn’t equipped for right then.

In the kitchen, he pulled up short at the sight of Dad sitting nursing a glass of amber liquid. There in the depth of the light blue eyes, so similar to his own, Silas saw pain when Dad glanced at him.

It pulled him up short as his brain switched lanes and the reality of why Dad was nursing a scotch alone registered.

“Is it that bad?” He’d not gotten all the details of what Booker and Taylin had found on their return to Drinkwater to finalize the purchase of the factory they had decided to buy after getting a feeling something was off for the omegas working their. A hunch, smells and something about the atmosphere got them making some discreet enquires to purchase the place. The work the omegas produced was exceptional, but from what Silas had gleaned in the emails he’d read, whatever they thought was going on, wasn’t the half of it.

Dad’s expression spoke to how much worse it was.

“Oh shit, was it a clusterfuck?” Silas asked, glancing at the glass.

“Worse.”

That one word, said with utter devastation, brought Silas to Dad’s side to wrap his arms around him. “Want to talk about it?” He rested his chin on Dad’s head and felt the shudder run through him.

“I’m grateful Jup wasn’t with your brothers. Fuck, to all that is holy, they chained them in the basement when they weren’t working. The rat fink fuckers!”

The thick emotion caused Silas’s eyes to ache with tears, the misery becoming his own. A memory of Jupiter’s torn and abused body, shackle marks around his wrists and ankles, made the tears fall. “Dear Christ. How many?”

“Too many. Too fucking many.”

Silas couldn’t get his lips to work, to ask anything more. He clung on to Dad, offering comfort but also taking it because heunderstood what kind of journey those men would go through. Buying the company Booker had desperately wanted to make the leather pieces for the new collection had come about from an onsite visit. The people who owned the factory hadn’t disguised the awful conditions—or not fully—from Taylin, Rue, Kodi and Booker.

Silas had listened to his brothers go through what they’d found, though they’d not considered there was something much worse going on than oppression and bullying. He knew his brothers would blame themselves for that.

A dejected sigh escaped, and Silas unashamedly clung a little tighter. “How’s Popi taking it?” he finally asked.

Dad sniffed, lifted his glass and drained it, giving Silas the answer.

“Crap shoot all around then.”

At the curt nod, Silas shivered, stepped back and headed to get a glass. He came back and sat down next to his dad, reaching for the malt whiskey. “Want another?” he asked, pouring a large shot into his glass.

“Yes.”

He poured the drink and put the bottle back in front of them. He picked up his glass and drank deep, feeling the warmth of the silky smooth liquor chasing away the chill inside him. “What do we do now?”

“Cut off the fucking head of the snake!”

Silas winced, distracted by how one gorgeous snake loved to wrap himself around his naked body and rest his head on top of Silas’s.

Not anymore.

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