All Chapters of Chains Of The Heart: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The note came when the sun was bleeding out over the western cliffs, staining the marble corridors in shades of dying fire. Nathan had spent the day in a fog—half expecting some kind of explosion, a report of blood on the southern road, or a summons from Damian that would confirm his worst fears.Instead, it was Silas who entered, silent as ever, a folded letter sealed with the Cross crest in his hand. Nathan rose so quickly his chair nearly toppled.“It arrived not long ago,” Silas said, offering the letter. His voice was steady, but his gaze lingered on Nathan’s trembling hands. “From your father.”Nathan tore it open, the wax cracking like brittle ice. His eyes darted across the lines—Victor’s elegant, composed handwriting stark against the chaos that had filled Nathan’s heart for days.With the assistance of Captain Silas Kane, we have successfully detained Rowan Mercer. No harm was done. Alistair Mercer has been notified of his brother’s temporary confinement and has been assured

He found Silas in the barracks courtyard, tightening the bridle on his horse. The man was alone—his soldiers had already dispersed after drills.“Sir Kane,” Lucian called, voice smooth, carrying just enough authority to make Silas’s hand pause mid-motion.“Lord Commander,” Silas replied without looking up, his tone calm but guarded. “To what do I owe this surprise?”Lucian stepped closer, boots clicking on the stone. “A surprise, yes. Imagine mine, when I found a coded message detailing the detainment of a target at the southern border.”Silas straightened slowly. “I detain smugglers every other week, Commander. You’ll need to be more specific.”Lucian smiled thinly. “Oh, I intend to be. The message also mentioned direct instructions from the Cross heir.”That made Silas’s jaw tighten. A flicker, a single heartbeat, but Lucian caught it.He circled the man like a wolf scenting blood. “Tell me, Captain—what does Nathan Cross want with a detained man near the border? And why were Cross

Damian didn’t know what he expected—maybe another sneer, maybe silence—but not that. Nathan’s smile landed like a blow. Not warm, not open, but real, and that made it worse. Easy to read and honest with themselves. The words worked on him like a quiet indictment. Once, Damian had been exactly that. Before Arabella ran away. Before shame hardened his tongue and regret turned him into a ghost haunting his own life.He watched Silas’s retreating back in his mind a beat too long. It wasn’t just ease—Nathan trusted him. Or at least preferred him. Damian couldn’t tell which was worse.Silas walked the corridor with the letter tucked neatly inside his coat, steps unhurried, expression unreadable by choice rather than habit. He’d grown used to carrying messages people pretended didn’t exist, but this—this was different.He replayed the scene in the study. Damian standing there like he’d walked in on a confession. Nathan calm as ever, sharp as ever, but softer around the edges when he spoke to

Silas’s knuckles were still pink from the cuffs when he arrived at Nathan’s chambers. The knock was soft, almost uncertain, as if he didn’t want to startle anyone inside.Nathan looked up immediately from his desk — the ink on the letter before him still wet, the quill trembling in his fingers. He stood so quickly that the chair scraped against the marble floor.“Silas—” his voice cracked. He crossed the room in a heartbeat, eyes scanning the bruises along Silas’s wrist, the faint red around his collar. “They—did he—?”Silas smiled faintly, tired but unbent. “He asked questions. I answered them. Nothing more.”“Don’t do that,” Nathan whispered, almost angrily. “Don’t make it sound so small. I know how Damian can be when he’s—” He bit the words off, realizing how dangerous they sounded. His throat tightened. “I’m so sorry, Silas. I should’ve—”Silas shook his head, cutting him off with quiet grace. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”“I dragged you into this. I made you—”

The wagon lurched over a rut in the frozen road, and Rowan’s shackles clinked against the iron rings bolted to the floor. He wasn’t blindfolded—it was almost insulting how little fear the Mercers’ own escort had of him—but his hands were bound and two Cross soldiers rode alongside the transport to “guarantee” the safe transfer across the border.He had almost made peace with the humiliation of it. Almost.That illusion shattered when the first arrow whistled past his ear.The driver didn’t even finish swearing before he tumbled off the bench with a bolt through his throat. Horses screamed. One of the Mercer guards yelled to fall back, but they didn’t get the chance. Men dressed in black—Damian’s men—poured from the trees like a silent flood.The Mercers’ men tried to form a defense, but they weren’t prepared. They were outnumbered and ambushed on territory that wasn’t theirs. Steel met flesh in the snow. Rowan saw one of Damian’s soldiers slit the throat of the man who had held the re