I didn’t recognize the man, but now I remembered his face.
Silas adjusted the camera lens, and my gaze drifted to his hands.
They were so large and strong. Thick fingers wrapped securely around the camera's lens with practiced control. His forearms flexed as he shifted position, veins popping out beneath his skin. Once, that kind of strength would have terrified me. Now, there was something so attractive about hands that looked capable of handling me just as easily as the equipment in front of him.
Last night’s dream surfaced unbidden. In it, Silas' handshad moved over my body, exploring every inch with a tenderness that made my stomach tighten just thinking about it.
His voice had been low in my ear the entire time, steady praise woven through every deepening touch until heat and comfort blurred together into something dangerously addictive.
My breath hitched, skin heated, and a shiver wove through me. Desire flared before I could stop it.
Embarrassment reddened my face as I tried to hide my arousal, pulling the blanket tighter around myself like it could somehow conceal the growing wetness between my thighs. I hated that I couldn’t control my scent, my body's reaction, or my curiosity for what these men offered.
Silas went still. His nostrils flared, teeth grinding as he scented my arousal in the air. Strain crossed his face, then vanished as discipline locked back into place.
Shame crept up my neck as I dragged my gaze away, clutching the blanket tighter around my shoulders.
And mingled in the shame was an arousal I could no longer deny.
Chapter 14: Knox
The first day of our stakeout passed in a blur.
There was far more traffic at the omega’s location than we’d expected. Men we recognized from Bellini’s crew came and went, but they weren’t the only ones. Black SUVs with government plates. A known commander's driver. A celebrity whose face I’d seen plastered across billboards only weeks ago.
Notthe kind of people you’d expect to be standing on the same doorstep as organized crime.
Silas documented everything, snapping photos with methodical precision. I logged times, vehicles, and security rotations. Lena cross-referenced faces with our criminal database, flagging the obvious ones immediately and digging deeper into the rest.
That was where she became invaluable.
She didn’t just search names. She read patterns. First, she found a campaign donor linked to a shell corporation. Then a foundation board member who quietly funded one of Bellini’s “orphanage centers.” Soon it led to a dismissed charge buriedten years back that tied a public figure to one of Bellini’s known lieutenants.
One detail sparked a memory. That memory connected to another file. Another name. Another visit logged at the house.
Piece by piece, she built a web of connections.
Quickly, it became clear that Bellini wasn’t using his omegas solely to reward loyalty within his ranks. He was also buying an enormous amount of favor, influence, and protection.
His reach went deep. Way deeper than we suspected.
And Lena saw it before Silas or I ever did.
She was extraordinary. Better than most intelligence operatives Arca had stationed at AIED.
After years in captivity, her mind was stimulated again.
I could almost see it happening in real time, as her focus sharpened and her eyes shifted, tracking threads the rest of us hadn’t noticed. Captivity had dulled her; torture had forced her inward, and survival had narrowed her world to the next breath, the next command, the next pain.
But her brilliance didn't disappear.
It waited.
Without constant fear choking it, without isolation keeping it boxed in, her mind stretched outward again, testing its reach. Exploring the sheer scope of what she was capable of.
And there seemed to be no end to it.
She processed connections faster than most trained analysts. She anticipated outcomes before the pattern was fully visible. What Silas and I saw as scattered data points, she saw as structure.
