Chapter Eight - The Sea

SILAS

Her hair was soft.

Too fucking soft! It slid through my fingers like silk, unlike anything I'd ever touched.

And her eyes...those fucking eyes.

The beauty of the sea couldn't compare to those blue orbs. They burned with a fire I didn't expect, flames that I shouldn't dare touch, yet every inch of me screamed to do so.

I hate it.

I hate her presence.

I hate how long her fucking hair is, how pink her lips are, how her skin looks flawlessly flawed with every bruise and scratch that lingers.

I hated just how small her body is, how it looks like it would fit easily against mine like the final piece to a fucking puzzle.

She is...unlike anything I'd ever seen, and she infuriates the fuck out of me.

Why the fuck does she have to be here?

Why now of all times?

The fucking bitch! How dare she speak to me that way?

My heavy, angry steps were muted as I marched back to my bedroom, heaving from emotions that only made me angrier.

This was Enzo's idea, keeping her here...and now I was the one paying for another one of his stupid decisions.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" I muttered under my breath, fists clenched tightly at my sides as the urge to punch something grew.

I shook my head, reminding myself that there was no need for violence. Bitch or not, she was still Elijah's sister...

Just as I rounded the corner that led to my room, I heard the sound of a door sliding open—Enzo's study door.

I'd stood behind it way too many times not to know what it sounds like.

But it's two fucking AM. What is he doing awake?

I stopped in my tracks, turning in the direction of the door.

He was still in the clothes he'd worn earlier to the crematorium, his usually put-together appearance in disarray, and I couldn't blame him, though it surprised me.

I've known the fucker since he was nineteen and I was just three years younger. thirteen fucking years, and I've never seen him so...unkempt.

His hair was messy, clothes creased, and his stubble looking more disheveled than usual.

He didn't seem to mind the state he was in. He stood like he always did, hands in his pockets and a subtle authoritative look in his eyes.

Just like his fucking father. Only, saying that out loud would definitely make me end up like Elijah.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Enzo cocked up a brow in question.

His tone took on its usual interrogative shift as he took in my appearance.

Great.

Now I was back to thinking about her, the real reason why I was here, why I had gone to the kitchen.

"Your guest was noisy. I couldn't sleep," I let out a frustrated sigh, thinking back to the scream I had heard coming from her room.

A nightmare, no doubt.

The reason why I'd gotten out of bed.

"She's in the kitchen, Enzo. She's fucking everywhere!"

Enzo didn't flinch. Why would he?

After all, he was used to me. My moods, my reactions to shit that didn't make any fucking sense.

"She shouldn't be here, Enzo."

"Oh?" There was that judgmental tone.

"Where else do you suggest we keep her?"

I blew out another frustrated breath, running my fingers through my hair. "She might be Elijah's sister, but she's in no way related to us!" I reminded him. "Why aren't we using her as bait? Why aren't we letting her roam free? Elijah's killer might take the bait, and even if they don't, we'll rid ourselves of enemies with her now in play...being here doesn't help—"

"—who? You?"

"I don't want her here," I seethed through gritted teeth.

"Well, too bad, Silas." He unfolded his arms from his chest. "What if we let her go and she dies out there? What if they kill her just like they killed Elijah?"

The question caught me off guard. It really did, and it takes a lot to do that.

The image that first came to mind was Ellie, lying in the same position Elijah was, with the same hole in her head.

It made my heart do something funny, something irritating.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between us before I realized just how fucking ridiculous it was.

"It shouldn't matter to me," I voiced, the words taking more effort than they should have. "It shouldn't matter to us," I further solidified, holding Enzo's gaze with a judgmental look of my own.

Since when has he become a sentimental man?

Since when has he cared for the lives of others?

"Why won't you give me a straight answer?" His head tilted to the side, and his question?

It irked me so fucking badly.

"You have been acting more erratic than usual, even more so now that Ellie is here," Enzo sighs, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I know it's hard, but you know we need to be at our best right now...all we have are fucking dead ends." He squeezed lightly. "We need to find out who did this and make them pay, and most importantly, we need to find out what they know...before they come for us too."

He was right.

I didn't have time to worry about golden silk and ocean eyes.

I had better things to focus on.

"And until that happens, Ellie remains here, where she's safe."

"Enzo—" I began my protest, but he shook his head. "If you ever cared about Elijah, you will respect that."

Cared about Elijah?

He was one of the only people in this world I truly loved. His death broke something in me, took away a piece of me I knew I wouldn't ever get back.

Enzo's words...

"When she betrays us..." I sneered, "I will be the first to have her head."

Enzo scoffs. "To do that, you'll have to stop looking at her like you want to fuck her," he says, not a hint of sarcasm in his tone. He lets go of my shoulder and takes a step back. "Goodnight, brother."

I didn't give him a response.

I was boiling, like a cauldron ready to explode.

What the fuck does he mean by that?

I don't want to fuck her.

I shook my head for the nth time in that hour.

I really don't!

Not when I can get any woman I want with just a phone call.

Not when I still suspect all this is just a ploy from an enemy we still can't identify.

She might as well be a fucking traitor.

Fuck her?

I snorted, resuming my angry march as I made my way back to the room and slammed the door loudly behind me.

I stripped off what was left of my pants and sank into my mattress, my stiff muscles relaxing slightly. I found myself staring at the white ceiling longer than I should have.

I breathed in and out, trying to calm myself, but it was hard—harder now with Elijah gone and an unknown bullet lurking in the corner, coming for either one of our heads.

We'd spent the past decade building this family. I'd spent the past decade building a new life for myself.

Choosing to forget everything I once was.

But now?

Shit was spiraling out of control.

And I didn't know what to do, how to react. Years of building myself up to be the calm one, and now I'm almost as rash as Noir.

I wasn't sure how long I'd spent looking up at the ceiling, but my frustration grew the longer sleep evaded me.

I gritted my teeth, internally blaming Ellie for everything.

This was her fault.

Everything went wrong the second she stepped into Italy.

The second she looked into my eyes for the first time.

Fuck this!

I sat up with a huff, my eyes scanning the room, looking for something—anything—to get my mind off her.

Then I heard the urgent knock on my door.

I was instantly alert, pushing off the mattress as I stood.

"Who is it?" I called out before making my way to the door.

"We have a problem, Silas." It was Enzo, his voice tense.

I pulled the door open. He was pacing, brows pulled together in a frown.

Again, an unusual expression on his normally emotionless face.

"What's wrong?"

"What did you say to her?"

My brows pulled together in confusion. "Who? Ellie?"

Enzo blew out something that sounded dangerously close to a frustrated breath.

"I can't find her, Silas," he exhaled. "She's gone."

What the fuck does he mean, gone?