Chapter 254
Chapter 254
Eileen's POV
My legs were shaking so bad I could barely stand.
Dust covered my coat. My hands—God, my hands wouldn't stop trembling. I pressed them against my thighs, trying to make it stop, but the adrenaline was still coursing through me like poison.
Silas stood three feet away, chest heaving, eyes still flickering between gray-blue and molten gold. Blood dripped from his knuckles onto the cracked pavement.
Behind him, Gavin and two guards were dragging the unconscious men toward a black SUV. One of them was still groaning. The other wasn't moving at all.
"Eileen." Silas's voice cut through the ringing in my ears. "Answer me."
I looked up. His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping.
"I almost died," I said. My voice came out hoarse. "And you're mad that I came here alone?"
His eyes flashed gold. "You think I'm not terrified? You think I didn't—" He stopped. Ran both hands through his hair. "If I'd been one minute late—"
"But you weren't!" The words exploded out of me. "You got here in time, and I found evidence! Malcolm owned this place four months before Mom died. Four months, Silas. That's not a coincidence!"
"So you decided to investigate a murder scene by yourself?" His voice dropped dangerously low. "Without telling anyone? Without backup?"
"You told me to wait!" My throat burned. "You said we needed time to build a case—"
"Because I was trying to keep you alive!" He took a step forward. "Do you understand what almost happened? That vial—" He pointed at the hissing puddle on the concrete. "One drop on your skin and you'd be dead in thirty seconds."
My stomach lurched.
"Emilia already confessed," I said. My voice was shaking now. "She said Malcolm contacted her six months before Mom died. Six months! What more evidence do you need?"
"A confession isn't enough." His tone was flat. Cold. "I need physical proof. Documents. Witnesses who'll testify under oath—"
"How long is that going to take?" I was yelling now. "Three days? Five? A week? How long before he destroys everything?"
"As long as it takes to do this right!"
We stared at each other. My heart was hammering so hard I thought it might crack a rib.
Silas closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the gold was gone. Just exhausted gray-blue.
"Get in the car," he said quietly.
---
The drive back to Keaton Manor was silent.
I sat in the back seat, arms wrapped around myself. Moby was curled up in my lap, his tentacles drooping. Even he could feel the tension.
Silas drove. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
When we pulled up to the manor, I didn't wait for him to open my door. I just got out and headed straight for the main entrance.
"Eileen."
I stopped. Didn't turn around.
"You need to promise me," Silas said. His voice was low. Controlled. "No more solo investigations. No more putting yourself in danger."
I turned slowly. "I'll promise... when you actually do something about Malcolm."
His jaw tightened. "You're giving me an ultimatum?"
"No." I met his eyes. "I'm telling you I won't sit around and watch my mother's killer walk free."
---
I went straight upstairs.
The bedroom felt too big. Too empty. I sat by the window, staring out at the dark forest beyond the gardens.
Moby climbed onto the windowsill beside me. He made a soft chirping sound—worried.
"He's stalling," I whispered. "Isn't he?"
Moby's tentacles drooped further.
I pulled out my phone. My hands were still shaking as I typed: Grandfather, can I come stay with you for a few days?
The reply came almost immediately: Of course. I'll have your room ready.
I set the phone down. Moby immediately crawled onto my lap, his little paws pulling at my sleeve.
"I have to," I told him. "I can't stay here and pretend everything's fine."
---
It was past midnight when Silas finally came upstairs.
I'd already pulled my suitcase out of the closet. Half my clothes were folded on the bed.
He stopped in the doorway. "Where are you going?"
"Back to the Goode estate." I didn't look at him. Just kept folding. "We both need space."
"Eileen—"
"Don't." I finally turned to face him. "Don't tell me you're doing your best. Don't tell me you need more time."
He took a step into the room. "Give me one week. Seven days. I'll have everything we need to take Malcolm down."
"My mother's been waiting twenty years." My voice cracked. "How much longer am I supposed to wait?"
His eyes closed. "One week."
I zipped up the suitcase.
---
Eleanor was coming out of the study when I reached the main staircase.
She stopped. Looked at me, then at Silas standing at the top of the stairs.
"Eileen?" Her voice was careful. "Where are you going at this hour?"
"Back to the Goode estate, Grandmother." I kept my tone polite. Respectful. "I need to spend some time with my grandfather."
Her green eyes flickered to Silas again. He stood there, face expressionless, hands shoved in his pockets.
Eleanor opened her mouth. Closed it. Finally just sighed. "Drive carefully, dear."
Moby was slumped on my shoulder, his little head hanging down like he'd given up.
---
Gavin was waiting by the car.
He opened the back door without a word. The engine was already running.
I slid into the back seat. Moby immediately started pulling at my sleeve, his tentacles pointing back toward the manor.
"Moby, no." I stroked his head. "Not this time."
He made a distressed chirping sound. Crawled across the seat. Tried to reach the door handle with his tiny paws.
"Luna..." Gavin's voice came from the front seat. He was watching me in the rearview mirror. "Alpha just needs time to—"
"I know what he needs." I looked out the window as we pulled away from the manor. The lights were still on in Silas's study.
Moby gave up on the door handle. He crawled back to me, tentacles waving frantically, trying to get my attention.
I picked him up. Held him against my chest.
"I'm sorry, buddy," I whispered. "I know you want us to go back. But I can't."
---
Grandfather Marcus was waiting at the entrance when we arrived.
He didn't ask questions. Just pulled me into a brief hug and led me inside.
My old room looked exactly the same. Same wallpaper. Same furniture. But it felt wrong somehow. Like I didn't belong here anymore.
I sat on the edge of the bed. Moby immediately started exploring—climbing the curtains, investigating the bookshelf, trying to find something that would make me smile.
He dragged over a framed photo from the nightstand. Dropped it in my lap.
It was from last month. Silas and me in the manor gardens. His arm around my waist. Both of us actually smiling.
The tears came before I could stop them.
"Moby..." My voice broke. "I don't... I'm not trying to hurt him. I just—" I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. "I'm so disappointed."
Moby climbed into my palm. His little tentacles reached up, gently brushing away the tears on my cheeks.
I closed my fingers around him. "I still love him. You know that, right? I just... I can't watch him protect Malcolm because they're family."
Moby chirped softly. Curled up in my hand.
I lay back on the bed, still holding him. Stared at the ceiling.
One week.
Silas said one week.
I just hoped it wouldn't be too late.