Page 80 of Ugly Truths
I bob my head again at her words.
She’s right and wrong.
If this were any other relationship, I’d walk away, but it’s not. It’s Silas. And no matter the outcome, there hasn’t been a moment it hasn’t felt worth it. Because, somehow, every time things fall apart, we find a way to drag each other back to the surface. And what’s left of us is so consuming that it almost feels clean, like all the damage burned off on the way up.
And nothing compares to the days we both believe we want this.
So, I wait for the sound of his footsteps down the hall, ready to unapologetically pull me away from his sister, because after knowing what that high feels like, I’d rather it incinerate me than let it go.
Chapter 32
Silas
Davey leads me down a hallway, our footsteps echoing against the polished concrete to another metal door. He punches in a final code into a keypad next to the handle, and the heavy door cracks open.
The hum of the servers fills the air, machines sitting neatly in even rows across one side of the room. On the other side, a few cubicle-style desks are clustered alongside a conference table. The setup mimics what we had back at the warehouse—Andrew Mallory, one of my father’s old friends, pulled out all the stops to make sure of it when he leased him the space.
Paul is stationed at a cubicle, his eyes flicking from his laptop screen to the three men who are technically our hostages.
They are all at the conference table, deeply engrossed in their work. Unfortunately, I am already acquainted with Luis, but Ben and Corey are just names I associated with voices until now.
One is medium height, with a forgettable blend of brown hair and an equally average build. The other sits slightly slouched, his features a stark contrast with sandy blond hair, which is a bit too long. These are the two men who managed to infiltrate the secured system we've spent millions of dollars to construct and maintain.
Their normalcy is almost alarming.
Scattered coffee cups, takeout boxes, and energy cans ring the table’s edge, pushed aside repeatedly to make space for laptops and screens.
All eyes flick towards us, but it’s Luis’s gaze that locks onto mine. He looks nothing like the last time we met, bloodied and tied to a chair. The fading bruises and scabs are the only things that remain.
Pity.
I don’t like or trust the fucker. He might have helped Elena disappear when she needed it most, but he also spent years working for Peter. Elena was young and inexperienced when she first started, and then she was blackmailed into staying. Luis, however, is a grown man. Maybe a few years older than me, and he knew exactly who Peter was. He had the autonomy to walk away. The fact that he didn’t says everything I need to know about him.
We haven’t heard a peep about Peter since Davey’s source in California tracked him down just long enough for us to think we had something before he disappeared again. Looking at Luis is a reminder that Peter’s still out there somewhere, and that just pisses me off more.
My only consolation is that Luis despises me. Not just for what I did to him, but for having Elena.
I’ve been about as subtle as a bulldozer on our daily calls about where she’s living. Petty, maybe, but I’m not about to let him think he has a chance with her. Not that she’s ever seemed to look at him that way, but I won’t risk it. He’s so obviously hung up on her that I wouldn’t put it past him to try something if he could see her in person. Hell, it’s most of the reason I won’t tell her where they’re temporarily living.
What’s even sweeter is that Elena has been keeping her distance. No requests to see him or conversations beyond what’s necessary about the servers. She’s polite, even warm at times, but always professional. And every text Luis has sent asking to talk has been ignored. I never asked her to do any of it, but she’s been passing this unintentional test with flying fucking colors.
And I hope that Luis knowing where she’s been staying and why she’s been avoiding him is torture. Wondering if she’s with me. If I’m touching her. If she’s giving me everything he wants. I pray that it eats him alive to think of us together. Imagining what shesounds like when she comes, like she did this morning with her hair fanned out across my pillow—one leg pinned high and tight against my chest, muscles flexing under my grip as I angled her just right, tits bouncing with every thrust while I scraped kisses and teeth up her calf.
Davey's voice cuts through my vivid memory. “The program is working, but we have to keep refining it as we go,” he starts, leading me further into the room. My gaze wanders to the servers. “The deeper we get, the more unfamiliar encryption I see.”
My unease grows. This mystery team had access to our most secure files, including cutting-edge research, patient details, and comprehensive financial records. And all for what, exactly? So William can keep the rest of us completely in the dark?
Once at the table's edge, I introduce myself to Ben and Corey with a nod, Ben being the brunette and Corey being the blonde. I skip the handshakes, which neither of them seems to expect or want. This is purely transactional, and none of us will pretend otherwise.
I turn to Luis. "You're looking much better than the last time I saw you," I remark. From my side, Davey releases a barely audible sigh.
Luis's jaw tightens before biting back, "Tell Cillian to go fuck himself."
I flash a grin, all teeth. “I’ll be sure to do that, though he was just following orders. He’s areallygreat listener.”
Luis’s tanned skin turns red, all the way to the tips of his ears. That reaction alone is the dopamine hit of a lifetime.
Just as Davey tries to cut in, my phone buzzes against my thigh. Elias’s name flashes across the screen. I don’t look at Luis again. “Any privacy down here?” I ask Davey, and he gestures to a side door.
