Page 114 of Silence and Surrender

“Yes.” His hand curved more firmly around my stomach. “Everything that matters.”

I began to drift toward sleep, lulled by his steady presence and the gentle stroke of his hand on my belly. The last thing I remembered was him pressing a kiss to my forehead and whispering, “Rest now. I’ll be here when you wake.”

And for the first time in days, I slept without nightmares.

Chapter Forty-Five

Isabella

It had been five days since our return to London, and the penthouse felt smaller with each passing hour. I paced the length of Colton’s study, watching surveillance feeds on multiple monitors. The morning sickness had finally eased somewhat, but being trapped here, watching Colton walk into danger every day, was its own kind of torture.

I had spent the morning analyzing the data Colton had brought home last night. Another shipment had cleared customs in The Netherlands. Art authentication, insurance documents, everything properly filed. It followed the same pattern my father had identified five years ago.

I sank into Colton’s chair, my hands flying across the keyboard. There had to be a pattern we were missing. The algorithms we had installed on the back end were tracking financial patterns, but took too long. Every day we waited was another day that these hideous crimes were going unchecked.

Movement on one of the internal security monitors caught my eye. A dark sedan had parked across the street—the third different vehicle in that same spot today. I zoomed in on the camera feed, studying the occupants. Two men in suits, both too still. Not casual observers. They were watching the building with calculated focus.

I switched to another feed, scanning the usually empty lobby. A woman I’d never seen before sat reading a newspaper. Another man stood by the elevator bank, pretending to check his phone while his eyes regularly scanned every entrance.

My pulse quickened. This wasn’t random. This was coordinated surveillance.

I pulled up the building’s exterior cameras, checking all angles. There were more of them, positioned at strategic points around the perimeter. Some made minimal effort to blend in, others were clearly security professionals. All watching our building with the same methodical attention.

Without a doubt, I knew they were hunting for me.

I forced myself to breathe steadily, to calm my rapid breathing. Rodger must suspect something. He was watching Colton at work and now had eyes on his home. They hadn’t made a move to enter yet, which meant they weren’t certain. They were gathering data, looking for patterns, waiting for proof.

Just like Colton and I had been doing.

I checked the timecodes on the surveillance feeds. The first vehicle had appeared shortly after Colton left for the bank this morning. They’d been watching all day, logging movements, monitoring deliveries, studying routines.

Looking for any sign that Isabella Delacroix might be alive and hidden in Colton Moreau’s penthouse.

My hands moved across the keyboard, activating additional security features. I accessed the building’s master system and initiated a maintenance sweep—nothing alarming, just routine elevator diagnostics that would force most residents to use the stairs for the next hour. It would disrupt their surveillance pattern, make it harder to track who entered and exited.

Then I systematically checked every digital defense we had in place. Our encrypted communications remained secure. The feeds from the bank that Colton had arranged still functioned without detection. Nothing had been compromised yet.

But they were closing in.

I studied the monitors again, documenting each surveillance position, building a mental map of their operation. “I need to be here. Need to coordinate. Need to help,” I whispered to myself, steadying my resolve.

I settled into Colton’s chair, breathing in his lingering scent of sandalwood. The safety protocols had worked. The security systems had functioned as planned. But we needed to move faster. The evidence Colton was gathering was crucial and dangerous. If they were searching his property, they suspected something. But they couldn’t prove anything yet. Not without finding me.

The screen showing Colton’s office captured my attention. Sari had appeared, placing documents on his desk. To anyone watching, it looked like a normal interaction between an executive and his assistant. But I knew better. I could see the slight tension in her shoulders, the careful way she positioned herself to block the camera’s view.

I checked the documents she sent over via our secure channel. They confirmed my fears: Rodger was suspicious of Colton. They were watching him closely. The next shipment was scheduled for Thursday, just three days away. They were accelerating everything. Moving assets. Cleaning evidence. Something had spooked them.

We were running out of time.

And Colton was walking into the center of it all, every day, playing a role that was growing more dangerous by the day.

I picked up one of our burner phones. We’d agreed to use these only in emergencies, with Cooper serving as our secure intermediary. This qualified.

“We need to move,” I said the moment Cooper answered. “Now. Not next week. Not when we have thorough evidence. Now.”

“What happened?” His voice sharpened instantly.

“They’re accelerating operations. Moving assets. Destroying evidence.” I told him about the surveillance and what I’d learned from Sari’s intel. “Thursday, they move more girls.”

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