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Silas hesitated by the door, guilt clawing at his chest as he watched Mateo settle into the bed.

The silence between them stretched too long, too heavy, until finally he gave in.

Slowly, he crossed the room and slipped under the sheets.

He lay down beside Mateo but turned to face the other side, his back to him, eyes fixed on the dark wall. His body was close enough to feel Mateo’s warmth, yet miles away in spirit.

The stillness shattered with a sharp beep from his phone on the nightstand.

Silas’s blood ran cold. He reached for it with trembling fingers, flipping the screen just enough to read the message.

Report to Italy HQ. —Agent Reeds.

His chest tightened, throat closing up.

He quickly locked the screen, hiding the glow before Mateo could see, his pulse hammering so loud he was sure it would give him away.

When he was certain Mateo had dozed off completely, Silas carefully turned, his movements feather-light. He studied Mateo’s sleeping face, the tension gone, lashes casting shadows over his cheeks.

His chest ached.

Leaning down, Silas pressed the softest kiss to Mateo’s lips, lingering there for a heartbeat. His whisper broke against Mateo’s mouth, raw and trembling.

“I’m so sorry…”

He pulled back, biting his lip hard to keep from crying, then slipped silently out of bed. Each step was measured, careful, his bare feet making no sound as he tiptoed to the door.

With one last look over his shoulder, Silas eased it open and vanished into the night.

The door clicked shut behind Silas.

For a long moment, the room stayed still.

Then—Mateo’s eyes opened.

Sharp. Awake. Watching the empty space where Silas had just stood.

His jaw flexed, the muscle ticking.

He hadn’t been asleep at all.

His gaze lingered on the door, darkly, before a slow, dangerous smile formed at the corner of his lips.

“Pretty boy…” he muttered under his breath, voice low and edged. “Running from me again?”

He leaned back into the pillows, eyes still fixed on the door, already planning his next move.

Silas pulled his hood up, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he hurried down the street.

A yellow taxi rolled to a slow stop when he raised his hand.

The window slid down, and the driver gave him a once-over. Their eyes met.

Silas froze for a second, then the man tipped his chin in a subtle nod. No words, just silent recognition.

Silas slid into the back seat, the leather squeaking under him.

The ride was quiet.

Neither of them spoke, but the air felt heavy and charged—like they both understood what wasn’t being said.

When they reached the drop-off point, the driver slowed to the curb. He caught Silas’s gaze through the rearview mirror, gave another small nod, then let him out without a word.

Silas exhaled shakily as the taxi pulled away, leaving him standing under the streetlight, alone but not really—never really.

Silas lingered outside the HQ doors. He glanced left, then right—nothing but empty sidewalk.

One more sweep. Left again. Right again.

Only then did he push the door open and step inside.

Silas straightened his posture the moment he stepped inside, smoothing his expression into something cool, —like he hadn’t just kissed Mateo goodnight and snuck out.

He nodded at a few agents as if nothing was off, his stride steady, hands tucked in his jacket pockets.

But Carla was already there.

The lead agent stood with her arms crossed, sharp eyes tracking him from the moment he entered.

The room seemed to tense around her presence, other agents quieting as she moved closer.

“Silas,” she said slowly. “You’ve been… delayed.”

Silas forced a faint smile, shrugging like it was nothing. “Traffic.”

Carla’s gaze didn’t budge. She circled him once, her heels snapping against the floor. Then she leaned in just close enough for only him to hear.

“You know what I think?” Her voice was low and dangerous. “I think you’ve been playing too close to your target. Men don’t come back restless, distracted… unless they’ve started falling.”

Carla’s eyes narrowed, scanning his face for even the smallest crack. Then she straightened.

“We are the best team this agency has,” she said, loud enough for the nearby agents to hear. “We don’t miss targets. We don’t fumble operations. And we sure as hell don’t let emotions cloud our judgment.”

Her gaze locked back on Silas, sharp as a blade. “You understand me?”

The others nodded firmly, their faces set with discipline, but Carla’s stare never wavered from him.

“Because once feelings get involved,” she went on, tone hard, “the mission is dead. And so is the agent.”

Silas swallowed hard, forcing a stiff nod, even as his chest throbbed with the weight of her suspicion.

Carla’s lips curled into something between a smirk and a sneer as she circled him again, her voice sharp enough to slice.

“We have enough proof to feel you tipped your boyfriend,” she said, drawing out the word with venom. “Why not just tell us you’re not faking the act anymore?”

Silas stiffened, his breath catching, but she wasn’t finished.

“Agent Reeds —tell me, who could stay close to a man as dangerously hot and attractive as Mateo Woods and not get burned?” Her tone dropped to a whisper now, meant for his ears alone. “Just one night… I'm sure his dick must have been Soo good you couldn't resist him.”

A sharp laugh broke from one of the younger agents standing nearby, quick and mocking at Carla’s cutting remarks. Another snicker followed, the sound bouncing in the tense air.

Carla’s head snapped toward them. Her eyes narrowed into a glare so sharp it could cut through steel.

The room fell silent in an instant.

The agents who had dared to laugh straightened in their seats, eyes forward, jaws locked tight. No one moved, no one breathed wrong under her stare.

Carla lingered on them for a beat longer, her expression a warning—don’t ever question me again—before turning her attention right back to Silas.

His throat bobbed, the sound of him swallowing his spit loud in the tense silence. His voice cracked faintly as he forced the lie out.

“You’ve got the wrong idea… I— I…”