Chapter 9: The Knight's Move
The text from Silas should have terrified me. Instead, it fueled me. He was watching. Good. Let him watch. Let him see that the pawn he'd cornered in his study could move in unexpected ways.
The next few days were a study in tense normalcy. I attended a prenatal appointment at a different, low-income clinic, using a cash alias. The sonogram was a blur of static and a tiny, throbbing heartbeat that sounded like a frantic horse galloping. The technician smiled warmly, pointing out the forming buds of arms and legs. I felt nothing but a cold, detached fascination. It was a blueprint. A schematic. The most important piece on the board.
I spent my afternoons in the back of the quiet bookstore below my apartment, poring over old society magazines and financial newspapers, building a deeper profile on Silas. I wasn't just looking for weaknesses; I was looking for patterns. His acquisitions, his philanthropic donations, the politicians he backed. Everything was a move in a larger game.
My peace was shattered on a rainy Thursday afternoon. The bell above the bookstore door jingled, and a wave of damp, cold air swept in. I was hidden in a nook, a stack of books on old European architecture hiding me from view.
The voice that spoke to the shop owner was smooth, familiar, and dripping with a faux warmth that made my skin crawl.
"I'm looking for a gift for my fiancé," Liana Croft trilled. "Something classic. Perhaps a first edition? Money is no object."
My blood ran cold. This was no coincidence. She was here. In my sanctuary. How?
I peered through a gap in the shelves. She was dressed in a stunning cream-colored trench coat, her hair perfectly styled despite the rain. She looked utterly out of place among the dusty shelves and the smell of old paper.
The elderly shop owner, Mr. Henderson, was flustered by her presence. "Oh, my! A first edition! Well, we have some lovely things, but perhaps… let me see…"
"Take your time," Liana said sweetly, but her eyes were not on him. They were scanning the shop, sharp and predatory. They were looking for something. For someone.
Silas. He hadn't just texted me. He had sent her. This was his move. A knight's move—angular, unexpected, attacking from a side I hadn't defended. He was letting me know that my hiding place was an illusion. That he could reach into my world whenever he chose. Was this a warning? Or was he offering me up to Liana like a piece of meat to distract her?
I stayed perfectly still, barely breathing. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs. I watched her glide through the aisles, her fingers trailing over book spines as if she were judging them unworthy.
She stopped near the staircase that led to my apartment. Her head tilted. She could see the private door.
"Oh, is there an apartment up there?" she asked Mr. Henderson, her voice dripping with false curiosity.
"Yes, yes, but it's rented," he mumbled, distracted by a pile of books.
"Lucky tenant," she purred. "Such a… quaint neighborhood."
She knew. She might not have known it was me specifically, but she knew this was a Sullivan property, and she knew someone Silas was interested in was hiding here. Her presence was a probe, a way to flush me out.
I had to get out. Now. I couldn't let her see me. If she realized I was the tenant, my fragile safe haven would be obliterated.
I waited until she was on the far side of the shop, pretending to examine a collection of antique maps. Moving like a shadow, I slipped from my nook and out the back door that led into the tiny, rain-slicked alley behind the building.
The cold rain soaked through my sweater instantly. I didn't care. I ran, my feet splashing in puddles, not stopping until I was three blocks away, sheltered under the awning of a closed bodega. I leaned against the brick wall, gasping for breath, the cold air burning my lungs.
He wasn't just playing the game. He was redesigning the board around me. My move against Leo, my attempt to manipulate Kaelen's supply, had provoked him. He was reminding me of the hierarchy. I could make my little waves, but he controlled the entire ocean.
The rage that filled me was so potent it was dizzying. It was a white-hot, cleansing fire. He thought he could intimidate me. He thought he could send his pretty little attack dog to piss on my doorstep and I would cower.
No.
I pulled out my phone, my fingers trembling not from fear, but from fury. I opened the text thread with Silas. The last message was his, about the unsettled water.
I typed my reply, my thumb stabbing the screen.
If your pet continues to sniff around my yard, I'll have no choice but to put her down. And I won't use a clean shot. I'll use a scandal. I wonder how a "nursing certification" holds up under a review for ethical misconduct? Let's see how useful she is to you then.
I hit send. It was a nuclear option. A direct threat. I was no longer speaking in metaphors about koi ponds. I was telling him I would personally and publicly destroy Liana Croft if he didn't call her off.
I stood in the rain, waiting. The seconds stretched into a minute. Two.
My phone lit up. A single-line response.
The pet has been leashed. The yard is yours. For now.
Relief so profound it left me weak-kneed washed over me. I had won. I had stood my ground against him and he had backed down. He had acknowledged my territory.
But the victory tasted like ash. For now. The words were a promise. This wasn't over. It was a temporary ceasefire.
And the cost? I had shown him my hand. I had revealed the depth of my ruthlessness, my willingness to go for the jugular. I had proven myself to be more than a dalliance or a desperate woman. I had become a genuine threat.
He would no longer be amused. He would be intrigued. And a man like Silas Sullivan, when truly intrigued, was at his most dangerous.
I looked down at my phone, at the two short messages that had just escalated our cold war into something much hotter. The rain continued to fall, washing the city clean, but it couldn't wash away the new reality.
The game had changed again. I had made my stand.
And I had just made myself the most interesting person in Silas Sullivan's world.