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Ch 14: Silas Vane
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2026-05-12 18:30:32The first dawn of the war was grey, and cold. I stood by the window of the suite, watching the light crawl across the choppy surface of Lake Michigan. Behind me, the steady, rhythmic hiss-click of the oxygen concentrator was the only heartbeat this house needed.
I turned my head slightly. Luca was a pale indent
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The Don's Unwanted Prize Ch 35: Third Person
Silas stares out the window as the car glides through the streets of Monaco. Up ahead is the Beaufort Estate-an old, lavish stone mansion surrounded by cypress trees.He has been here before. Over fifteen years ago, when Claire was alive, and he was a different man. He feels the weight of the past pressing down on him, the ghost of Claire mingling with the echoes of who he used to be. He pushes it away. He cannot afford to feel anything right now.The car rolls to a stop, and a footman opens the door.Silas steps out. Dressed impeccably in a charcoal black suit, he looks completely untouchable. He does not wait to be greeted. He walks up the stone stairs, his footsteps quiet but deliberate.The massive double doors swing open.Mathias Beaufort stands at the entrance in a crisp white suit. With silver hair and dead, cold eyes, he looks like a man who owns the world-and in many, many ways, he does."Bienvenue, mon fils, Silas, my son," Mathias says, his voice pitched, smooth and culture
The Don's Unwanted Prize Ch 34: Third Person
The intercom buzzes. Silas barely moves, pressing the release button. The heavy oak door clicks open.A man in his mid-thirties steps across the threshold. Tariq is meticulously dressed in midnight blue suit and a crisp white shirt, radiating the unnerving stillness of absolute loyalty. For ten years and counting, he has served as Silas’s Monaco assistant–he’s also the gatekeeper, fixer, and snoop. He knows everything, where all the bodies are buried, yet remains centered, keeping his gaze lowered, and he doesn’t speak unless spoken to.Outside, the sunset seeps in through the windows, painting the room in a heavy, bruised gold. It illuminates the massive mahogany desk, the dark leather chairs, and rows of books no one has touched in years. The room is built for power, suffocating silence, and decisions that ruin men and dynasties.Silas swivels slowly in his chair, pulling from a thick cigar, his eyes tracking the curling smoke. Tariq stands perfectly still across the desk, scrolling
The Don's Unwanted Prize Ch 33: Third Person
At 41,000 feet, the loudest noise inside the Gulfstream G550 is the clinking of ice against crystal and whispered chattering from his men. Silas sits in the leather armchair, a glass of bourbon resting in his hand. He hasn’t taken a single sip. The ice melting, turning the amber liquid warm and diluted, but his grip on the glass remains tight. He stares out the large, signature oval windows at the clouds, white and endless. He’s lost in thought, his mind drifting far away from the aircraft, entirely consumed by the boy he left behind in Chicago. He’s made this journey a hundred times when expanding his kingdom and stacking money were all that mattered. Monaco. Milan. D.C. Name it. The world is his territory, his playground. But this time, the transatlantic distance feels like a load on his chest, heavy and real. This time he isn’t just traveling; he’s leaving someone behind. He has been holding his phone for an hour or so. He wants to call Luca. He doesn’t. He shouldn’t, but the ur
The Don's Unwanted Prize Ch 32: Luca De Santis
I don't answer. I don't know what to say to that level of dominance. I just turn in his arms to face him. He's already looking at me, his eyes dark and satisfied."Buenos dias, beautiful," he says. "That's how you wake me up?" I ask, my voice still raspy, half-laughing despite the mess between us.He kisses my forehead and nuzzles deeply into my hair. "I wanted to say goodbye properly.""You have a strange fucking way of saying goodbye."We lie there for a moment, the quiet returning to the room, though my heart is still racing."You're going today," I say softly.He's silent. That's how I know I'm right."Si. In the evening," he finally admits. "I have things to handle this morning.""How long will you be gone?" I ask, dread pooling in my stomach."Two, maybe three weeks," he says, his voice flat. "It might take longer."I nearly jump out of bed, the post-orgasm haze instantly vanishing. "That's too long," I say, my voice rising. "I can't be alone here for that long.""You won't be
The Don's Unwanted Prize Ch 31: Luca De Santis
The house is quiet. Too quiet. I haven't seen Silas since yesterday. I've been pacing the bedroom for hours, like a caged animal. I've rearranged the nightstand three times. I've even folded the clothes Silas left on the chair—something I never do, smoothing out the dark fabric just to have an excuse to touch something that belongs to him.I'm bored and restless. My skin feels tight, itching with anticipation. I'm counting the seconds until he comes back. I don't know what to do with myself. I hate the waiting. I hate the silence.I change the sheets. I don't know why. They're not dirty, but I need something to do to burn off this frantic energy. I strip the bed, wrestle with the heavy corners of the mattress, and smooth out the fresh wrinkles. I step back, breathing a little heavier. It looks perfect.I shower. The water is hot, punishingly hot. I stand under it for too long and let it scald my skin, letting the steam fill the massive glass. I think about him. I think about the dark,
The Don's Unwanted Prize Ch 30: Luca De Santis
I'm drifting somewhere between sleep and waking, the sheets tangled around my legs. The room is warm, and the silence feels thick, heavy with the early hour.Then I hear it. The bathroom door opens. Soft footsteps pad across the marble. I feel the mattress dip as he sits on the edge of the bed.I open my eyes. Silas is sitting there, his back to me, his shoulders wound tight like a coiled spring. The shower is still running, water pounding against the tiles like a warning drum, but he's not in it. He's just... sitting here. Staring at nothing. Steam drifts through the open door, curling around his damp skin, but he looks entirely cold.I just watch him for a moment before I sit up, reaching out. My hand touches his bare back. He flinches."Silas... Is everything alright?"He turns. His face is a mask, but his eyes—his eyes tell a different story. I've seen that look before. The look of a man holding something devastating back. The look of a man about to deliver bad news."I have to go
The Don's Unwanted Prize Ch 2: Silas Vane
Don De Santis couldn’t handle the fury of the North. Nobody can. He spent a year trying to steal my shipments and take over my streets, and all he got for it was a pile of body bags.He finally realized that you don’t play games with the Vane family. We have owned this city for decades. We are old
The Don's Unwanted Prize Ch 1: Lucas De Santis
01:18 PM. The numbers on the clock burned my retinas like a countdown to an execution. Today was the day I stopped being a person and started being a peace treaty. I rolled out of my bed, a massive, silk-sheeted island that suddenly felt like a coffin. My head throbbed, a brutal reminder of the ch
The Don's Unwanted Prize Ch 3: Silas Vane
Usually, the thick and heavy glass insulation drowned out the world, leaving me in the peaceful vacuum of my own thoughts. But today, the silence was jagged. It was occupied by the frantic, shallow breathing of the boy sitting three feet away from me. I didn’t need to look at Luca De Santis to kno
The Don's Unwanted Prize Ch 12: Luca De Santis
“Stop breathing so loudly, boy,” Aunt Gable snapped, her voice ringing out sharp and cold. “You sound like a dying horse.”I flinched, my fingers digging into the polished mahogany of the banister. The rail felt like ice against my palms. I didn’t turn to look at her; I couldn’t. If I moved my head
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