Page 113 of Silence and Surrender

“Show three containers moving through Rotterdam.” His voice stayed steady, though I could hear the rage beneath each word. “Temperature controlled.”

“They can’t keep doing this.” My hands fisted in his shirt again. “More lives they’re destroying while we wait. While we plan.”

“While we gather evidence to destroy them completely.” He tilted my face up, making me meet his eyes. “Not just stop one shipment. Not just save three girls. End it. All of it. Forever.”

I studied him for a long moment, reading the truth in his face. “You found something today. Something big.”

“Maybe.” He guided me towards the bedroom, and I knew he was right about me needing rest, even if I hated to admit it. “The server logs show connections to other banks. Other institutions.”

“I want to see.”

“Tomorrow.” His voice was firm but gentle. “When you’ve rested.”

In our bedroom, Colton helped me into one of his soft shirts that I’d claimed as sleepwear. While I changed, he disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a glass of water and the prenatal vitamins Dr. Eisenberg had prescribed.

“You missed today’s dose,” he said quietly, holding them out to me.

The simple act—him remembering when I’d forgotten—made my throat tighten with emotion. “Thank you.”

After I took the vitamins, he guided me to sit on the edge of the bed. Kneeling before me, he began to massage my swollen feet with careful hands.

“You don’t have to do that,” I protested weakly.

He looked up at me, the intensity in his eyes silencing any further objections. “Let me take care of you. Both of you.”

His hands moved with careful precision, easing away the day’s strain. “You’ve been standing too much today.”

“Sitting, actually. Hunched over computers.”

“Which explains the neck pain.” He finished with my feet and moved to sit behind me on the bed, his fingers once again finding the tension in my shoulders. “Dr. Eisenberg said you need to change positions more frequently.”

“I forget,” I admitted. “When I’m focused on the data...”

“I know.” His voice held no judgment, only understanding. “That’s why I need to remind you.”

As the tension eased from my muscles, exhaustion rushed in to fill the void. I leaned back against him, letting his strength support me.

“I found a heating pad,” he said, reaching for the bedside drawer. “For your lower back. You mentioned it was bothering you yesterday.”

The thoughtfulness of the gesture brought fresh tears to my eyes—pregnancy hormones making me more emotional than I’d ever been. “I’m afraid of losing you,” I confessed, the words slipping out unplanned.

His arms tightened around me. “Nothing they do can keep me from you now. From our family.”

He helped me settle into bed, arranging pillows to support my back and growing belly before covering me with the duvet. Once I was comfortable, he moved to the other side of the bed and stretched out beside me, one hand coming to rest warmly on my stomach.

“Have you felt any movement?” he asked, his voice softening as it always did when he spoke of our child.

“Maybe a little flutter.” I placed my hand over his. “Especially when I was going through the shipping manifests. Almost like they understood what was at stake.”

His mouth curved in a tired smile. “Already fighting for justice.”

We lay in comfortable silence as early morning light fought through London’s perpetual rain. His thumb traced small circles on my stomach, the gesture both protective and reverent.

“What if they suspect?” I asked finally, voicing the fear that haunted me. “What if Rodger realizes...”

“Then I handle it.” His voice was rough. “I’ve changed, and now I get to use it against them.” His expression remained gentle but determined. “Let them think I’m still on their team. Let them believe nothing’s changed.”

I traced the stubble marking his chin. “Everything’s changed.”

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