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Spark

Author: Eden
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-06-27 16:57:29

Chapter 62

The warehouse wasn’t on any map.

But the ambulance had gone there.

Not to a rehab center. Not to a psychiatric ward. But to a crumbling, half-condemned structure with no power and no business being on the hospital’s route log.

Kent stared at the GPS breadcrumb trail on his laptop. “That’s it,” he said, pointing. “Ambulance 3A71. They wiped the footage but forgot to scrub the emergency call logs. That one made a detour.”

Cillian’s face was unreadable. Frozen, sharp. “Where is it?”

“Old citrus packing district. No signal. No neighbors. No cameras.”

A perfect place to hide a ghost.

“I’m going alone,” Cillian said, already turning toward the door.

Kent stood up fast. “Wait. Shanon can be here in fifteen. Syl too.”

“No.” Cillian grabbed his coat. “Every second she’s there, she’s at risk. I’m not waiting for a committee.”

“You don’t even know if Ben’s there.”

“I don’t care.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. “If there’s even a sliver of a chance—”

“You’ll walk into a
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  • Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother   Isla Hale

    For a full second, no one moved.Syl blinked like he’d hallucinated her. Kent instinctively reached behind him, like he might need a weapon. Cillian just stared, caught between disbelief and disdain.The woman stepped forward, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The sound echoed like a threat.“You’ve got ten seconds,” Cillian said, voice low.“I don’t need ten.” Her heels clicked across the wood. “I need five.”Kent squinted at her, then at Cillian. “Okay, someone tell me who the Bond villain is.”Syl mumbled, “She’s real?”Cillian didn’t look away from her. “Syl, meet Isla. Isla Hale.” His voice went flat. “My ex-fiancée.”Syl’s eyes widened. “No way! An almost Mrs Cillian.” Isla smiled softly, glancing at Cillian. “Are you going to keep me outside all night?”“Some of us don’t mind,” Kent mumbled.Cillian took a step forward. “Why are you here, Isla? What do you want?”“Cilli, this is not the place to discuss that. Could we go inside? We could talk over a bottle of wine

  • Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother   Lillies and Peonies

    The parking lot of the local precinct smelled like cheap cologne and sweat.Cillian had to sign twice before the officer finally unclipped the gate.“He’s lucky this wasn’t worse,” the woman muttered, eyeing Syl slumped on the bench behind her.Cillian glanced at Syl— head bowed, tie crooked, the scent of bourbon wafted off him like cologne. He was a mess.Cillian went to him and crouched down. “Can you stand?”Syl stood, but barely. Cillian didn’t ask what bar it was. Didn’t ask what happened. Didn’t ask what was wrong.He knew what was wrong.Instead, he helped him slow and steady until they were in the car. Syl pressed his forehead against the cool glass window, eyes closed, breathing shallow.Cillian gripped the steering wheel tighter than he meant to. He wasn’t going to speak. He wouldn’t nag. Wouldn’t ask what happened. He knew what happened.He glanced at Syl and noticed his eyes were still closed. He looked less like a brilliant lawyer and more like a boy lost in his own mind.

  • Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother   Cillian St.James

    Cillian hadn’t touched a drink in days.But tonight, he needed one. Or maybe two. He had lost count. He poured another anyway—more out of ritual than want. The glass sat untouched beside a pile of marked-up documents and notebooks. They weren’t relevant. Most were half-burned pages of old property transfers and court depositions. But he flipped through them anyway. It gave his hands something to do.The house behind him was silent. It had been that way since the night Sylvester walked out without a word. Since Kent started staying out later. Since Belle made good on her threat.And Benita? He hadn’t heard from her at all. It was only a few weeks, but it seemed like forever.So he stayed quiet. A little quieter each day. Like a man hoping to be erased. These days, only his work phone rang. Hod personal phone rarely buzzed and he hated the silence. Suddenly, his phone lit up, and he didn’t know what to expect.He picked up the phone mindlessly and instantly his breath hitched.Benita

  • Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother   Don’t kill the man who came to save me

    BENITAThe home doctor peeled back the last of the gauze around her ankle. His touch was brisk but careful, hands gloved, eyes avoiding hers.“There,” he muttered, pressing a flexible patch down where the deepest wound used to be. “You’re good to walk again. Just don’t run a marathon.”Benita nodded. “Wasn’t planning to.”Her voice sounded distant, like it belonged to someone else. Her mind had already drifted elsewhere— another ankle. Wondering if it was still wrapped in stiff gauze.Was he still limping? Had he let it heal, or had he been too stubborn to sit still?She hadn’t seen him since the night they found her. Hadn’t heard his voice since he’d been warned to steer clear of her. The midafternoon light poured into the Bellingtons’ private sitting room like honey through lace. The air smelled faintly of bergamot and restraint.Benita tugged her pant leg back down and flexed her foot. It didn’t hurt anymore.She sank into one side of the low table, looking around like she had jus

  • Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother   Abandoned Again

    CILLIANThe front door shut behind him with a dull, final click.Cillian stepped into the dim hallway of his own house, a house that now felt more like an echo chamber than a home. Somewhere in its walls, the warmth had vanished. Everything was black, white, or grey.He shrugged off his coat.Sylvester was already waiting.He sat at the long dining table, posture stiff, hands folded like a confession begging for release. Between them: a half-empty bottle of whiskey and two untouched glasses.“You look like you need a drink,” Kent said quietly, sliding a glass across the table.Cillian caught it mid-slide without breaking stride. He glanced once at Kent.“Give us a minute.”The command hit hard. Kent blinked but didn’t argue. He glanced between them, reading the tension like smoke thickening in a closed room. Then he walked away.Cillian waited for the soft click of Kent’s door before turning fully to Syl.He took a slow sip of the whiskey, set the glass down with quiet precision.“I w

  • Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother   Archives

    Cillian watched the last gate close behind him with a thud. The hallway stretched ahead—too clean, too quiet.The air was thick with the smell of disinfectant and hopelessness. He’d been here before. Six years locked away, and the man he was about to face had put him there.The guards led him down into the visitor’s bay.No one had visited him back then. Not once.That was what it meant to be alive and erased. Men like Shanon, the Bellingtons—they didn’t kill people. They buried them alive.Belle’s words still echoed in his mind: “If I see you anywhere near my daughter again, I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again.”She’d said it with her whole face clenched.The door buzzed, and Ben walked in.He slumped into the chair across the partition, face twitching like static.“I get it now,” Cillian said quietly. “To love something enough to give anything to protect it.”Ben blinked, confused. “This about Benita?”“No. It’s about you. I understand you now.”Ben scoffed, leaning

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