He circled the desk and sat, looking every bit the ruthless king of this sterile little empire.
"Here is the reality, Elara. You are no longer in Data Analytics."
"I preferred the cubicle," I said. "It had better snacks."
"You will remain within reach." He ignored the sarcasm completely. "Office. Residence. Travel. You will be my shadow. In exchange, I will pay you an amount that makes the word salary insulting."
Then he named the number.
My heart gave one heavy, traitorous thud.
That amount wouldn't just cover Noah's surgery. It could buy the entire hospital wing. It could buy specialists, private care, safer housing—freedom, if I were stupid enough to believe freedom could ever come from a man like Silas Thorne.
"Conditions," I said.
One dark brow lifted. "You're in no position to negotiate."
"I'm the only person in this building who doesn't make your head feel like it's splitting open." I held his gaze. "I'd say that gives me leverage."
A faint smirk touched his mouth.
"State them."
"First: no biting. I'm an employee, not a chew toy. If you go feral, find a rug."
His eyes darkened, but he didn't argue.
"Second: executive-level data access. I don't like being a blind shadow. If I'm in the room, I want to know why."
"You want information," he said. "Dangerous."
"I like context. It keeps me useful."
"And the third?"
"Daily pay. Transferred at midnight. No payroll cycle. No delay."
His gaze sharpened. "You have debts."
"I have priorities."
Silas leaned forward slightly, forearms resting on the desk as if he were finalizing a merger instead of rewriting the terms of my life.
"No biting," he said. "No marks without consent. Data access. Daily transfers. In return, you do not leave my sight. If I say stay, you stay. If I say move, you move."
It should have sounded absurd.
Instead it sounded like a cage being custom-built around my exact measurements.
I thought of Noah's face. Pale skin. Brave smile. The way he always acted like the treatments didn't hurt just to make me worry less.
Then I thought of the encrypted files buried under Thorne Group's security layers. The ones I had spent months trying to reach.
"One more thing," I said, my voice cooling. "My brother stays out of this. His medical records are off-limits. You do not touch him. You do not investigate him."
Silas studied me for a long moment, as if he had finally noticed there was steel under the gray suit and cheap glasses.
"Done."
He rose from his chair.
The heat came with him.
He rounded the desk and stopped one inch from me. Too close. The filtered air of his private office did nothing to dull the effect of his body, all controlled violence and residual heat from the overload still simmering under his skin.
"Say it," he said quietly.
"Say what?"
His head dipped until his mouth hovered near my ear.
"Say you accept."
I looked up into those storm-gray eyes and felt the trap close.
Not because of the money.
Not because of the contract.
Because once I stepped fully into his orbit, I wasn't going to get out clean.
Still, Noah needed treatment. I needed access. And Silas needed me badly enough to pay for both.
"I accept," I said.
"Good choice, Elara."
Then it happened.
Maybe he was too close. Maybe the relief of my presence had loosened something in him. Maybe the witch-blood in my veins had been waiting for exactly this.
Whatever the reason, I heard him.
Not with my ears.
It hit my mind in fractured flashes, jagged and unfinished, like overhearing a conversation through broken glass.
...same dispersal as the Vermont massacre...
...someone used the Silver Coven's signature trigger...
My breath caught.
Ash filled my lungs. Or maybe that was memory.
Another thought struck, sharper than the first.
Vance. If she's a Vance, she's the key to the ruins.
For one second, the room tilted.
Vance.
My real name.
Silver Coven.
My family.
The family that had been slaughtered and burned ten years ago while the world looked the other way.
I stood there in front of him, still wearing the face of a dull, obedient secretary, while everything inside me split open.
Silas Thorne had just made me his shadow.
His tether.
His private cure.
And somewhere in that brutal, beautiful head of his was the map to my family's grave.
I forced my mouth into a small, professional smile.
"When do I start, Mr. Thorne?"
His gaze stayed fixed on me, sharp enough to cut.
"Now."
Of course.
I had come here looking for answers.
Instead, I had walked straight into the center of the monster's den.