Chapter 39 Clearing for the storm
CHAPTER 39: Clearing for the storm
Silas
Rage. Raw unbridled rage that made me blind and deaf to every other thing.
My hand had been clenched tightly since I left the office, the flash drive that Damien had given me concealed in my closed palm.
The car had barely come to a complete stop before I was out of the door, my shoes hitting the gravel with a violence that matched the storm raging in my chest.
I took the stone steps up to the front door two at go.
Every instinct in my body screamed for blood, the cold fury in my veins turning my vision into a narrow, lethal tunnel as I stormed into the foyer.
Instead of the clinical quietness, I was met with the sound of something akin to a frat party.
There was the thumping of music and a cacophony of laughter bleeding in from the pool area.
Just before I could head over to put a stop to the nonsense, Lily appeared, clad in a bathing suit, followed closely by another teenager who was giggling, obviously intoxicated.
She stopped dead when she saw me, her expression flickering from surprise to a sharp, instinctive nervousness that she couldn't quite hide.
“Silas? Hello…you’re home early," she began, her voice trailing off as she took in the set of my jaw.
“What is going on in my house?”
She swallowed. Her mouth opened and closed.
“Oh my God!”
It was the drunk giggling teenager.
“Oh my gosh,” she slurred, eyes widening at me. “Silas fucking Rutherford—”
“Come on, Chelsea,” Lily said, pushing her towards the rear door leading to the pool area.
She reappeared embarrassed and nervous.
“I'm so sorry. I didn’t know you were going to be home early,” she rattled out. “I just wanted to hang out with my friends—”
I turned towards the stairway.
“...Vera said it was fine.”
I halted. My teeth clenched so tight, I thought it might break.
How dare she give permission for anything in my house?
I turned around.
“Get your friends out of my house,” I ordered, my voice a low, vibrating growl that left no room for negotiation. “I want them gone in thirty minutes. Every single one of them.”
Lily opened her mouth, maybe to argue, but the words died in her throat as she read the look in my eyes.
She nodded quickly, turning to flee toward the terrace, but I wasn't finished.
“Lily,” I barked.
She froze, looking back at me with wide, fearful eyes. “Yes?”
“Pack a bag.”
She hesitated. “Why?”
“You’ll be sleeping at Cherry's house tonight.”
With the hell I was going to raise tonight, it was best there was no audience. Not even my murderous wife's younger sister.
“Is there a problem?” She asked in a small voice. “Did—did Vera do something wrong? Are you sending me away? Please don't—”
“Your sister and I have things to discuss that require absolute privacy. I'll have the driver drop you off and pick you up in the morning.”
The mention of the driver picking her up in the morning seemed to quell her fears of being sent away.
She didn't ask further questions, nor protest. Lily simply turned and disappeared, sensing the lethal energy radiating off me.
I bounded up the stairs, my heart drumming a war beat against my ribs, my mind consumed by the singular need to find the woman who had been sleeping in my bed while carrying the blackest, most dawning secret imaginable.
On reaching the landing, I stopped short, the air leaving my lungs in a sharp hiss.
Light was streaming from the door to the east wing on the second floor. I raced up the stairs.
Just as I suspected, the door to Simone’s sanctuary was standing wide open, soft light streaming out.
I moved toward the door, my footsteps silent and predatory, and when I crossed the threshold, I saw the culprit…and my vision turned red.
Just the person I wanted to see.
Vera was standing there, a small, fragile figure in the center of the room I had forbidden anyone to enter.
Like fuel to an already blazing fire, she was staring at the portrait of Simone, her hand clutching the vanity as if she were about to collapse.
Almost as if she felt my presence, she spun around, and I saw the immediate transformation of her features.
She froze, the shock and fear written so clearly across her face that it was a confession in itself. She looked like she had seen a ghost, her skin as pale as the marble statues that adorned the courtyard.
I spoke to the maid trembling in a corner, without taking my eyes off Vera.
“Get out,” I commanded, my voice deathly level. Tell every member of the staff to vacate the premises for the night. I want this mansion empty in twenty minutes,” I ordered.
She didn't wait to be told twice. She scrambled out of the room, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste to escape the dangerous environment.
Vera moved too, her eyes darting toward the door as if she intended to follow…to escape.
Hell would freeze over before I let you escape.
She tried to rush past me, her head down, but I was faster.
I reached out, my fingers wrapping around her arm like a vice, firmly holding her in place.
“Not you,” I hissed, the words dripping with a cold, concentrated venom. “Not so fast.”
“What are you doing?” she cried hysterically. “Silas, you're hurting me,” she whimpered, her voice thin and trembling.
I leaned down. “You’re yet to understand the meaning of that word. Not until I'm done with you,” I ground out icily in her face.
She flinched.
She tried to pull away, her body shaking with a profound terror that only fueled my rage.
“Please stop. I’m begging you.”
I didn't answer her. I couldn't. If I spoke now, I would burn the house down with her inside it.
She struggled to free herself. But her efforts were useless. At that point, she gave up…exhausted.
I stood there, holding her captive as the minutes ticked by, until my phone vibrated in my pocket.
A text from the head of security confirming the mansion was clear.
I didn't say a word as I began to move, dragging a trembling, stumbling Vera down the hallway, through the flight of stairs and toward our bedroom.
Her protests started again, fueled by my silent actions and the sudden eerie emptiness in the mansion.
Yet her feeble protests were nothing more than white noise against the roar of the truth in my head.
I hauled her into the room and threw her onto the mattress, watching as she scrambled back against the headboard, her eyes wild with a panic I had never seen before.
I backed toward the entrance, my eyes never leaving hers, and reached for the handle.
With a slow, deliberate motion, I turned the lock, the click echoing through the silent room like the cocking of a hammer.