Silas Mercer sat in his study, the air thick with the smell of old leather and the lingering scent of woodsmoke. For six days, he had been a man haunted by a ghost that was still very much alive. He kept seeing Alina in the firelight, not the "vicious nightmare" she pretended to be, but the girl who had looked at him with such raw, terrifying honesty before the world had turned cold again.
He knew he owed her an apology. Not for the act itself, there had been nothing accidental about the way they had moved together, but for the silence that followed. He had let her run. He had let her slide back into that crude, defensive shell because he hadn't known how to tell her that he was just as terrified as she was.
A sharp, rhythmic rapping at the front door broke his reverie. Silas tightened his grip on his pen. He didn't need to check the window to know the silver Land Rover was idling in the drive.
Julian Vane didn't wait to be invited in. He sauntered into the study, looking as if he'd just stepped off a yacht. But Silas noticed the subtle tremor in Julian's fingers as he reached for a crystal decanter on the sideboard.
"You look like hell, Silas," Julian said, his voice smooth but brittle. He poured two drinks, handing one to Silas. "The zoning board is breathing down our necks about the north pasture development. You haven't answered my calls in forty-eight hours."
"I've been busy," Silas rumbled, his voice low.
"Busy with what? Tending to the 'help'?" Julian's eyes flickered, a jagged, manic light dancing in them. He paced the room like a caged animal. "I saw her, you know. Martha's niece. She's... quite a handful. A bit of a stray, wouldn't you say? Probably looking for a payout."
Silas felt a hot flash of protective rage. "Watch your mouth, Julian. She's had a hard life. She doesn't need your brand of 'appraisal'."
Julian laughed, but the sound was high-pitched, almost frantic. He turned, his gaze boring into Silas. "You're always so noble, Silas. So protective. It's almost sweet. But you have to be careful with girls like that. They'll eat a man like you alive. They'll use that 'gentleman' routine against you until you're bled dry."
"She's not using me," Silas snapped, the words out before he could catch them.
Julian froze. He tilted his head, a predatory stillness settling over him. "Oh? And how would you know that? Has she been whispering her 'tragedies' in your ear over breakfast?"
Silas set his glass down, his jaw tight. He wanted Julian out. He wanted the house quiet again. He was tired of the games, tired of the masking. "She stayed here during the storm, Julian. We... things happened. I'm not going to sit here and listen to you talk about her like she's some common grifter."
The room went deathly silent.
The glass in Julian's hand shattered. He didn't even flinch as the bourbon and shards of crystal fell to the Persian rug. He stared at Silas, his face pale, his pupils dilated until his eyes were two black holes of pure, unadulterated shock.
"You slept with her," Julian whispered. It wasn't a question. It was a realization that seemed to physically wound him.
"It's none of your business," Silas sighed, standing up.
"None of my business?" Julian's voice rose, becoming jagged and wild. He stepped toward Silas, his breathing ragged. "We've been partners for a decade, Silas! We've built everything together! I care about you, damn it! I'm trying to protect you from making the biggest mistake of your life!"
Julian began to spiral, his movements jerky and manic. He gripped the back of a chair until his knuckles turned white.
"She's a child! She's a manipulative, crude little brat who probably doesn't even know how to spell 'loyalty'! Do you have any idea what this does to our reputation? To the board? If people find out you're bedding the waitress from the diner—"
"Get out," Silas said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, quiet growl.
"I'm doing this for you!" Julian screamed, his face contorted with a rage he couldn't name. He was vibrating with a frantic energy, his mind racing to justify the white-hot jealousy that was currently burning through his veins.
He told himself it was loyalty. He told himself he was protecting his friend from a predator.
"She's going to destroy you, Silas! She's a disaster! I can see it! I can feel it!"
"Julian, leave. Now. Before I forget we were ever friends," Silas stepped forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over the smaller man.
Julian backed away, his eyes wild and bloodshot. He looked like a man who had just lost the only thing he'd ever truly owned. He reached the door, his hand trembling on the knob.
"I won't let her do it," Julian hissed, the manic thrill from his encounter with Alina the night before clashing with the betrayal he felt now.
"I won't let her take you down with her. I'll save you from her, Silas. Whether you want me to or not."
He slammed the door, leaving Silas standing in the center of the room, the silence returning like a heavy shroud.
Silas looked down at the shattered glass on the rug. He had meant to protect her. He had meant to keep her name out of the mud. But in one moment of defensive pride, he had handed Julian the very weapon the man needed to destroy them both.
Outside, Julian sat in his car, his forehead resting against the steering wheel. He was sobbing—short, dry gasps that sounded like a machine breaking down. He hated her. He hated her for touching Silas. He hated her for making him feel like a god and a monster all at once.
"Revenge," he whispered into the dark interior of the car, his voice cracking. "It's just revenge. For Silas. For us."
He put the car in gear and roared down the driveway, the silver shark disappearing into the night, headed straight for the diner.