Page 46 of Closer Than You Think
“It doesn’t explain what they want with Hallie, but it’s a damn good start.”
“So if Drago was working with the Syndicate and was presumably supposed to kidnap Hallie—assuming that’s why he had her photos and info all over his hard drive—we have to figure they think she knows something about Teddy that can help them.”
“Maybe dear ol’ Ted stole from his overlords,” Jet says with a smirk.
Cain’s eyes narrow. “Bank account number? Offshore?”
I shake my head. “It’s a possibility, but Hallie swears she doesn’t know anything. Same thing she told the reporter. Wait . . . ”
“You think he might be compromised?”
“Anything is possible when the Syndicate is involved.”
“Dammit. I should have never agreed to the Senator job. Never should have put us on their payroll. That’s on me,” I say.
Jet shakes his head. “We do this job, we end up working for some gnarly people, Si. We all know it.”
Cain slaps my back. “It’s not your fault. Just the way of the game.”
“Well, we’re going to play the game and win this time.”
“Fuck yeah we are. Let’s take down those motherfuckers.”
“The problem with the Syndicate,” Alan says, the older voice of reason, “is that we don’t know who the fuck we’re dealing with. They’re ghosts. They operate on a global scale so fucking wide that if you go searching for who they are, they have the power to shut it down.”
I cross my arms. “We might not be as big and far reaching, but I trust our work. I trustus.”
“Yeah,” Cain says with a nod. “If anyone has the power to go up against them, it’s Ares. It’s our team.”
I don’t get emotional at work. Not ever.
But if I did, it would be now. Knowing that my team has my back in ending this threat against the woman I love.
Twenty-One
Silas
The lock clicks softly behind me as I step inside, my bedroom’s dim lighting barely cutting through the shadows that cling to the corners.
But I see her. My eyes find her everywhere she goes. Hallie is a softness in my scarred, ragged life. The gentle rise and fall of her chest syncs with the erratic drumming of my heart. It's like she belongs here, in the chaos of my existence, bringing peace to the war within me.
My fingers work at the buttons of my shirt, each one undone with meticulous care. The fabric parts, revealing scars that map my history in flesh—reminders of a life drenched in violence. I ease out of my clothes, the weight of my gun belt feeling heavier than usual. It's not just the leather and metal; it's the burden of what I am, what I've done. And yet, she slumbers on, undisturbed by the darkness that looms over her.
I stand there, bare, save for the thin veil of restraint that clings to me. The longing is a tangible thing, a force that threatens to shatter my self-control. I want to reach out, to claim her warmth as my sanctuary. But hesitation grips me, the silent whisper of caution that weaves through my desire. Whatright do I have to touch something so pure, so unmarred by the filth I wade through daily?
The way she sobbed in my arms because of the pain I caused her was enough to take my breath away. I’d never regretted a kill. Not once. And I can’t say I even regret any now. But I’d do anything to take that pain away from her.
I watch her breathe, each exhale makes a lock of her hair flutter against her pillow. Such a small thing, but one I know I’ll keep with me for the rest of my life.
Despite it all, my obsession coils tighter around my soul, a refusing to be tamed. It's her—the woman who sees through the façade, who challenges the monster and finds the man beneath. She's my contradiction, my upheaval, my calm.
She sighs in her sleep, and the sound feels like absolution. My resolve crumbles, the pieces scattering like ashes in the wind. I'm powerless against the pull that has swept me away since the first day I saw her.
And so I move, closing the space between us with steps as silent as the night outside. I slide under the sheets, an intruder in my own bed. She lies there, a serene vision bathed in the moonlight that filters through the blinds. Her breaths are soft and even, a rhythm that lulls the chaos within me.
Carefully, I inch closer, my body coiled tight with conflicting emotions. My hand trembles as it hovers over her, the air charged with the energy of unspoken want. It's the dance of shadows and light across her face that undoes me—the gentle rise and fall of her chest that beckons me like a siren's call.
I give in.
