The bathroom door closed with a soft click.
The sound echoed louder than it should have.
Evelyn stood where he had left her, the space around her suddenly feeling too quiet, too empty. Her wrists still tingled faintly where his hand had held them.
She slowly lowered her arms.
Her heartbeat had not settled yet.
What did I say?
Her eyes drifted toward the bathroom door.
Steam had already begun to fog the lower edge of the glass panel. The faint sound of running water filled the room.
Her mind replayed the night before in broken flashes.
The fire.
His arms lifting her from the bed.
The warmth of his body close to hers.
Her chest tightened.
Did I… thank him?
The thought made heat creep up her neck.
Evelyn pressed her lips together, annoyed with herself.
Why was she even thinking about it?
This man had just pinned her to a wall and threatened her without blinking.
Yet…
Her gaze dropped to the floor.
He had also stopped her head from hitting the wall.
Protected her without even thinking.
That contradiction irritated her more than anything.
Silas was impossible to read.
Dangerous.
Controlled.
And somehow… strangely careful.
Evelyn rubbed her wrist slowly.
"Scared him," she murmured under her breath.
The idea almost made her laugh.
Silas didn't look like a man who scared easily.
Her eyes drifted to the bed where his phone had landed earlier. The memory of him catching both her wrists with one hand replayed in her mind.
The strength in that grip.
The ease.
She exhaled slowly.
Note to self, she thought dryly, don't try to steal his phone again.
A faint smile almost formed on her lips before she caught it.
Why was she smiling?
Evelyn shook her head, trying to clear the strange warmth lingering in her chest.
Then her eyes fell on her phone again.
The earlier suspicion returned immediately.
Her fingers tightened around it.
Silas had definitely touched it.
Which meant—
Her pulse quickened.
Information.
Evidence.
Or worse…
Something he wanted to hide.
She glanced once more at the bathroom door.
Water continued to run.
Good.
Carefully, she unlocked her phone.
Her thumb hovered over the screen.
"If you touched anything…" she muttered quietly.
But deep down, a colder thought settled in her chest.
If Silas had really accessed her phone…
Then he already knew far more about her than he should.
And somehow—
That possibility scared her more than the way he had pinned her against the wall.
******
Evelyn stepped onto the pavement, the crisp morning air brushing her cheeks. Across the street, he was already there—Silas, standing tall and composed in his brown coat, hands buried casually in his pockets. His posture was effortless, but the quiet tension in his stance made her chest tighten.
She descended the steps in her own brown coat, the fabric swaying lightly with each step, and tried to steady her racing heart. Mr. Tyler, her boss, moved to her side, his sharp eyes scanning her carefully.
"You alright, Evelyn?" he asked, concern threading his voice. His hands reached out instinctively, holding her shoulders as he gave her a brief, reassuring squeeze.
She nodded, though her mind was elsewhere, and then, unexpectedly, she felt another presence. Silas's dark eyes flicked toward her. She froze for a heartbeat, taken aback by the intensity in his gaze.
Mr. Tyler stepped back slightly, sensing the tension. "I think our young lady here needs a minute," he said with a knowing glance at Silas.
Silas murmured something under his breath, barely audible, and turned his gaze away, composure flawless. Evelyn's stomach twisted at the sound, though she had no idea what he'd said.
"Alright, Mr. Montclair," Mr. Tyler said, clearing his throat. "Our men will escort you home. Miss Ashford, I'll see you home myself."
Evelyn's heart skipped. Something in the way Mr. Tyler said it made her stomach flutter—like she was betraying some unspoken rule of her own heart. She glanced at Silas, who avoided her eyes, keeping his focus straight ahead.
Just as Silas started to walk away, Mr. Tyler's voice stopped him. "And, Mr. Montclair… don't stray too far. You'll be required for interrogation in the next two weeks."
Silas didn't acknowledge him.
He simply kept walking, deliberate and unyielding, until he disappeared around the corner, swallowed by the morning fog. Evelyn's fingers twitched at her sides.
She felt a spark of defiance rising. She wouldn't let him be right. She would prove she could handle this.
She squared her shoulders, voice firm as she addressed Mr. Tyler. "I'm heading to Cotland Town today. There's unfinished business I need to settle."
Mr. Tyler raised an eyebrow, giving her a long, assessing look. "Cotland Town?" he echoed, his tone tinged with disbelief. "After everything you just went through?"
Evelyn let out a slow breath, eyes narrowing slightly. "Yes. I can handle it, Mr. Tyler. You'll see."
He studied her for a moment longer, a mixture of concern and admiration in his eyes. "Alright, Evelyn. I'll meet you there," he said finally, his voice firm but respectful.
Evelyn's lips curved into a faint, defiant smile. She shot one last glance in the direction Silas had disappeared. His presence lingered, like a shadow she couldn't shake. Then she turned fully to Mr. Tyler.
"Let's go," she said, stepping forward with purpose, the morning sun catching the edges of her coat, the faint stir of wind teasing her hair.
The drive to Cotland Town was long and quiet. Evelyn pressed her forehead lightly against the window, watching the world blur past in shades of green and gold. Her mind churned, spinning questions she didn't yet have answers to. If she held evidence against Silas—evidence that could either destroy him or save him—what would she do with it? Could she trust herself not to act on it?
Her fingers traced the faint mark on her wrist where he had held her the morning before. She whispered his name under her breath, almost unconsciously. Silas.
The memory of that first encounter flashed through her mind: the commanding voice, the impossible calm, the teasing glint in his eyes. She shivered slightly and shook it off.
Focus, Evelyn. she told herself. Your job, the award, the case. Keep away from him. Don't let him complicate your life again.
Mr. Tyler stole glances at her from the driver's seat, the corner of his mouth twitching into a knowing smile. He'd been watching her the entire ride, sensing her thoughts even without words. Evelyn touched her wrist again, fingers curling around the memory, then exhaled softly.
The car rolled into the town, and life burst into view. Bright flowers of every hue lined the streets, their colors vibrant in the morning sun.
Evelyn straightened in her seat, a small smile lifting her lips. The energy in the town seemed to seep into her, pushing away the tension that had clung to her for days.
"Seems your energy is back," Mr. Tyler remarked, turning his head briefly, eyes flicking toward her.
Evelyn smiled faintly, opening the address in her phone. The car slowed, coming to a stop in front of a house tucked behind a small garden overflowing with roses, lavender, and bursts of wildflowers.
They stepped out, the sunlight warming her face. She asked a few townspeople about Dallas Montclair, but each shook their head. Of course, Evelyn thought bitterly. He's always hiding, always a ghost in the system.
Just as she was about to step back toward the car, a figure appeared in the garden—a man with grey hair, a slight belly, holding a watering can. His face was lined with confusion and suspicion as he eyed the newcomers.
Evelyn moved forward, her smile warm, her tone light. "Good morning, sir," she greeted.
The man nodded slowly, expression unreadable. "Can I help you?" he asked, voice calm but wary.
Mr. Tyler stayed back, hands resting lightly on his hips, observant of any sudden movement. Evelyn's smile widened just enough to convey sincerity.
"I'm looking for a good man named Dallas Montclair," she said, letting charm thread through her voice.
Dallas's gaze flicked toward Mr. Tyler, who was dressed in his plain cop uniform, and back to her. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Why are you looking for him?"
Evelyn's smile softened. "Nothing serious, sir. We're here to help him… and perhaps have a word."
Dallas's eyebrows rose slightly. He lowered the watering can, setting it on the ground with careful precision, the gesture deliberate. "What can I do for you?" His tone was quiet, measured, acknowledging without admitting.
Evelyn stepped closer, the warm morning light casting soft shadows across the garden. "May I come in?" she asked politely, yet with quiet insistence.
Dallas hesitated, his eyes scanning the street behind her and Mr. Tyler, evaluating trust. Evelyn's smile remained steady, calm, unyielding. "Trust us, Mr. Dallas. We mean no harm," she said softly, letting a quiet authority thread through her voice.
He finally nodded, stepping aside to let them enter. Inside, the house was a reflection of the garden outside—overflowing with flowers, the scent of wood and petals filling the air, warm sunlight streaming through the windows.
Dallas led them to a shaded corner and drew out two chairs. Mr. Tyler stayed near the doorway, vigilant, his posture unyielding. Evelyn lowered herself into the chair, bowing her head slightly in a gesture of respect. Her fingers went to her phone, pulling it free, and she held it out.
"Do you know this man?" she asked, her tone calm but direct, showing him Silas's image.
Dallas's face tightened, a small crease forming on his chin. He swallowed, his eyes flicking down at the screen before meeting hers again. "Yes… he's my nephew."
"And what about him?" Evelyn pressed gently, letting her curiosity thread through the quiet.
Dallas exhaled slowly, the weight of the moment settling on his shoulders. His hands rested on his knees, and for the first time, his eyes betrayed something deeper—hesitation, concern, and maybe… fear.
"Why do you want to know about Silas?" he asked carefully, almost as if testing her sincerity.
Evelyn's smile softened, her eyes steady.
"We're here to ensure he's safe… and perhaps make sure he's on the right path."
Dallas's lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze flicking to Mr. Tyler and back to her. Finally, he nodded subtly, a quiet acknowledgment that he understood—but trust would not come easily.
Evelyn sat back slightly, feeling a small pulse of victory. She had opened the door, made contact, and now the real work could begin