Page 211 of Ruin Me Gently

I gestured at the screen, at the mess they were trying to make sense of. “Clark isn’t that smart.”

Finn tilted his head. “Okay, then how the hell is he pulling this off?”

I let out a breath, leaning back in the chair. “He’s not. He’s spiralling. And he’s lucky.”

Finn arched a brow. “Lucky?”

I nodded. “Lucky that no one’s found him yet. Lucky that no one cares enough about what he’s done to report his whereabouts.”

Silas stayed quiet, watching me carefully.

“His phone showing up? That wasn’t strategy. That was a mistake,” I added.

Finn leaned forward, elbows on his desk. “And you know he’s spiralling because…?”

“Because I know him. He doesn’t do cheap. He doesn’t do motel rooms.”

Finn tilted his head. “Alright, but maybe he’s desperate. Maybe he’s lowering his standards.”

I let out a humourless laugh. “No. He’s not capable of lowering them. This isn’t a man who adapts. He crumbles.”

Silas exhaled loudly, a muscle twitching in his jaw. His fingers tapped once against the desk before curling into a fist.

I kept going. “Clark doesn’t eat takeout. He doesn’t leave messes anywhere—hell, he once screamed at me for leaving a glass in the sink for too long.”

Finn let out a low whistle. “Jesus.”

“He had rules. Everything had to be pristine. No clutter. No dirt. Even his closet looked like a damn store display. He checked the mirror constantly. Fixed his hair if it wasn’t just right. Do you really think someone like that suddenly decided to live like an absolute slob?”

Silas’ breathing was heavier now, his fingers flexing at his sides.

I pushed forward. “He wouldn’t have touched a cigarette, let alone let a room stink like smoke. He would’ve gagged at the thought. The fact that he let it get that bad? It just doesn’t—”

Another sharp breath caught my attention.

“Silas.”

He didn’t look at me.

“Silas, stop.”

His gaze snapped to mine, frustration written into every sharp line of his face. “You shouldn’t know all of this.”

I stilled, my breath catching for a second. “You think I enjoy that I know this much about him? You think I enjoy having to pull up shit I’d rather erase?”

His eyes flickered with something, but I didn’t let him look away.

“Ihatethat I know him. I hate that I understand how he thinks. But right now?” I took a breath. “Knowing him helps us.”

His shoulders stayed right, his fists clenched, but his breathing slowed slightly.

Finn cleared his throat. “Okay. So. If he’s not working with some criminal mastermind covering his tracks, and he’s not actually thinking ahead, then what?”

I exhaled, turning back to the screen, letting my own frustration settle. “Then he’s not running on strategy. He’s running on fear.”

Finn grinned, stretching his arms behind his head. “Which now makes our job a hell of a lot easier.”

My brow furrowed. “How? If he’s untraceable?”

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