Page 275 of Ruin Me Gently

“You’re so bad at this!” he wheezed. “It’s actually painful to watch.”

I shot him a glare, scooping the ball back up off the floor. “It’s your fault for having a stupid hoop in your stupid office.”

“Yeah? And whose fault is it for deciding to play when they have the coordination of a baby giraffe?” His grin spread even wider.

“Oh, screw you.” I narrowed my eyes, squaring my stance again. “Watch this.”

I flicked my wrist, trying to mimic whatever weird wizardry Finn used to make it look so effortless.

The ball soared, well, more like flopped before it bounced off the side of the trash can and landed with a sad thunk on the floor.

Finn clapped his hands together. “Amazing! Incredible! Truly a once in a lifetime performance.”

“Oh, bite me.”

“Ohhh, you’re mad.” His grin was wolfish as he grabbed the ball and spun it on his fingertip like some smug Globetrotter reject. “Need me to show you how it’s done, rookie?”

He cocked his arm back and launched the ball. It hit the rim, circled once, and wobbled out.

“Ohhh,” I dragged out the sound. “Amazing! Incredible! Truly a once in a lifetime performance.”

He flicked a pencil at me.

“Hey!” I dodged it—barely—and snatched the ball back up.

Before I could attempt another shot, the door creaked open, and Finn’s assistant poked her head in.

“Um… I’m sorry Mr. Everly, Miss Whitlock,” she said carefully. “But Mr. Graves has politely requested that you both,” she cleared her throat. “Shut the fuck up.”

Finn clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch. Don’t sugarcoat it, Claire.”

Her face turned pink, but she smirked as she turned and left, muttering something about‘children in suits.’

We both snickered. Finn tossed a lazy salute toward the door. “Love you too, Claire.”

Still grinning, I wandered into the office next door, chucking the ball at Finn on my way out.

Silas sat behind his desk, leaned back in his chair like he hadn’t moved an inch. Only now, his fingers were drumming steadily against the armrest, his eyes locked on his monitors.

“You okay, big guy?” I teased, dropping into the chair opposite him. “Getting jealous?”

He scoffed. “Pfft. No.” He paused. “Yes.” His eyes flicked up to mine, sharper now. “Absolutely.”

His hand lifted, two fingers curling in a‘come here now’motion.

I barely made it around the desk before his hand shot out, fingers circling my wrist as he yanked me down into his lap.

“Oof—Jesus!” I huffed, twisting slightly in his hold.

His arm slid securely around my waist, pinning me there.

“Just double checking a few things from around the time of the attack,” he murmured, chin brushing my shoulder as he leaned over to the monitors.

Over the past few weeks, Silas had settled. He still hunted, still obsessed over finding Clark. But it wasn’t consuming him anymore. The dark circles beneath his eyes had faded. The sorely locked tension in his shoulders had eased. He kept it contained now—a few focused hours every day, nothing more. No more all-nighters. No more disappearing into the office for endless hours, skipping meals and barely speaking.

And I was grateful. For both of us.

Because as much as I wanted Clark caught—and I did—I didn’t want to lose Silas in the process.

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