Page 34 of Vows of Silence

I really, really believed I should know it. Recognition was flashing in my mind, but I couldn’t figure out why.

“God!” I groaned, running frustrated hands over my face.

I hadn’t solved the mystery, but I was certain I had a lead.

Chapter 11

The Mask

My little bird was learning how to hunt.

I watched her through the uncovered camera tucked high in the corner of her ceiling as she sat cross-legged on her bed, laptop balanced on her thighs, dark hair falling around her face while she tore through article after article like a woman starving for answers.

She was close now.

Too close.

And she didn’t even realise it.

The image on my monitor flickered briefly as she clicked onto another article about my family, her brows drawing together in concentration, her mouth pursed softly as she read. She had bitten most of the lipstick from her lips hours ago. The remaining stain clung to the centre of her bottom lip, tempting enough to make my fingers flex against the arm of the chair.

She looked exhausted.

Beautiful.

Paranoid.

Mine.

She’d found the article on my mother. I had her laptop cloned and could see every move she made.

I should have shut it down sooner. The second she started digging into Maria, I should have stepped in properly, but I was curious to see what conclusions she’d draw.

I’d already messed with her spreadsheet, sending her around in circles. I wanted to see what she could remember.

I wanted to see how far she’d get. Wanted to watch her put the pieces together. Wanted to see that brilliant fucking mind work.

My little bird had spent her whole life being underestimated. Handed dresses instead of information. Smiled at instead of listened to. Kept soft and ignorant while men made decisions around her.

And now she had started clawing at the truth.

The thought made something dark twist pleasantly in my chest.

Even angry with me, she was magnificent.

Even frightened.

Especiallyfrightened.

My eyes drifted to the second monitor, the frozen image still paused from three nights ago.

I’d erased all evidence of that night from the Carbone system, replacing it with a loop of a previous recording. But I’d kept the original for myself.

The number of times I’d watched this. Seeing her beneath the couch, her tear-stained cheeks, her eyes wide and fixed on me in the darkness, shining with terror.

A groan escaped me and my cock jerked beneath my trousers.

The video should not have affected me the way it did. And yet I hadn’t been able to stop replaying it.