Chapter 24 Twenty Four
IDALIA SOLENE
The penthouse was quiet except for the low hum of the city far below the floor-to-ceiling windows. I stood in the dark living room with a glass of red wine untouched in my hand, staring at Leo’s crayon drawing still lying on the coffee table.
Those bright blue eyes stared back at me.
I wanted to burn the paper. I wanted to fold it carefully and hide it in the deepest drawer of my soul. Instead, I left it there like a warning.
Cassian had gone home after promising to meet me tomorrow to discuss “next steps.” His calm, calculated voice still rang in my ears.
We ruin them slowly. We ruin them completely.
I closed my eyes and exhaled. The revenge I had carried for five years suddenly felt heavier now that I knew the full truth. Silas and Cassian hadn’t saved me out of pure kindness. I was their weapon. And I was okay with that. I wanted to be that weapon.
But Leo drawing Thane without ever meeting him? That was something else entirely. Blood called to blood.
“Mommy?” Mia’s sleepy voice drifted from the hallway.
I turned and forced a soft smile as she padded toward me in her dinosaur pajamas, clutching her stuffed rabbit. I scooped her up easily, pressing my face into her dark curls that smelled like strawberry shampoo.
“Can’t sleep, baby?”
She shook her head and buried her face in my neck. “I had a bad dream. The tall man was sad.”
My heart clenched so hard I nearly dropped the wine glass. I set it down and held her tighter.
“He’s not going to hurt us,” I whispered, even though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince.
I carried her back to bed, tucked her in beside her brother, and stayed until both of them were breathing deeply. Leo’s small hand was flung out across the pillow, fingers curled like he was reaching for something.
Or someone.
I kissed their foreheads and whispered the same promise I’d made every night for four years.
“I will keep you safe. No matter what.”
THANE DEVEREUX
The private gym in my building was silent at 3:17 a.m. except for the heavy thud of my fists against the punching bag.
Sweat poured down my bare back. My knuckles were raw even through the wraps. I didn’t stop.
Every punch landed with her name.
Idalia.
Solene.
Lia.
The way she looked at me in that restaurant, pure ice on the surface, but something molten underneath when Cassian appeared. The way she walked away from me like I was nothing. The way her son drew me in bright blue crayon.
I knew.
Deep in my gut, in the primal part of me that had never accepted her death, I knew.
I caught the swinging bag with both hands and leaned my forehead against the leather, breathing hard.
Jaxson had sent new information an hour ago. A single encrypted file. A hospital record from a private clinic outside Zurich dated five years ago. Female patient. Severe trauma. Multiple surgeries. Name listed as “Jane Doe” but the attending physician’s signature was unmistakable.
Cassian Vale.
My cousin had treated a ghost.
I smiled in the dark, savage and sharp. The pieces were finally clicking together.
I grabbed my phone from the floor and typed a single message to Cassian.
Thane: We need to talk. Tomorrow. No more secrets, cousin.
I didn’t wait for a reply. I already knew he wouldn’t give me one.
IDALIA SOLENE
The next morning, the hospital felt like a battlefield.
I was in the middle of reviewing Kimberly Devereux’s latest scans when my office door opened without a knock.
Thane walked in like he owned the building. Dark suit, no tie, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. He looked like sin and vengeance wrapped in expensive fabric.
“I don’t recall scheduling a meeting,” I said coldly, not looking up from the tablet.
“You didn’t.” He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, arms crossed over his broad chest. “But you’re going to make time.”
I finally lifted my gaze. Those icy blue eyes pinned me in place. For a second, the professional mask slipped. I remembered his hands on my elbows outside the coffee shop. The violent static. The pull.
“I have a surgery in three days that could determine whether your mother lives or dies,” I said, voice flat. “Whatever game you’re playing, I don’t have time for it.”
Thane pushed off the door and stalked toward my desk. He moved like a predator who had finally cornered his prey.
“I’m not playing games anymore, Idalia.”
My stomach dropped, but I kept my face carved from stone.
“Get out.”
He planted both hands on my desk and leaned down until our faces were inches apart. I could smell his cologne—dark amber and something dangerously masculine.
“I know Cassian helped you disappear,” he said, voice low and rough. “I know he hid you. I know you have my children.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
For the first time in five years, I felt truly exposed. No mask was strong enough to hide the storm raging behind my eyes.
Thane’s voice dropped even lower, almost gentle, which made it ten times more terrifying.
“I’m not here to destroy you. I’m here to take back what’s mine.”
My hand moved before I could stop it. I slapped him hard across the face.
The sound cracked through the office like a gunshot.
Thane didn’t flinch. He slowly straightened, a dark, satisfied smile spreading across his lips as a red mark bloomed on his cheek.
“There she is,” he murmured, eyes blazing with heat. “My wife.”
I stood up so fast my chair rolled backward.
“Get. Out.”
He didn’t move. Instead, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a single photograph, placing it gently on my desk.
It was me. Five years ago. Smiling up at him in our old apartment, his hand resting possessively on my very pregnant belly.
My knees nearly gave out.
Thane stepped around the desk until he was standing right beside me. Too close. His voice was a dark velvet rasp against my ear.
“Three days until my mother’s surgery. After that, Doctor… you and I are going to have a very long conversation. No more running. No more lies.”
He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my skin.
“And if you think ice will keep me away,” he whispered, “you’ve forgotten how much I love burning things down.”
Thane stepped back, gave me one last searing look, and walked out.
I sank into my chair, staring at the old photograph with shaking hands.
The ice was cracking.
And I wasn’t sure I could stop it from shattering completely.