Page 80 of Her Soul to Own

Chapter 18 – Silas – Into the Abyss

Lyra’s sitting on the bed, hunched over slightly like she’s trying to hold herself together but can’t. She looks so small, so fragile, and it makes my chest tighten. This isn’t the woman who walks into a room with fire and grace. This is a woman who’s been broken, exposed, and torn apart, and I want to fix it. I want to make everything right again.

But for now, the only thing I can do is hold her. So I do.

I pull her into my arms, and the moment our bodies connect, I can feel the shudder of relief that ripples through her. She’s crying, her face buried against my chest, and I can’t do anything but let her cry. Let her feel it.

I can’t even speak. Not yet. The rage inside me is too loud. Too hot. The thing that aches the most isn’t just her pain. It’s knowing that whoever did this to her is out there, and they think they’ve won. But they haven’t. Not yet.

“Silas…” She whispers my name like it’s a lifeline. Her voice is raw, barely above a whisper. “Make it stop. Please.”

The desperation in her voice twists something deep inside me.God help anyone who’s behind this. I will burn them to the ground.

But for now, I just hold her, feeling the exhaustion seep through her like it’s taking all her energy. Slowly, her sobs slow, her breathing evens out, and after what feels like forever, she falls asleep in my arms. But the anger inside me doesn’t subside. If anything, it only grows.

Carefully, I lay her down on the bed and cover her with the blanket. I need to be out of here. I need to find the bastard who did this.

I walk out of the room, my mind already working through the next steps. The surveillance room is just down the hall. It’s my territory. My place to keep track of everything, to know everything, to watch over everything. And right now? I need to find out who’s responsible for violating her privacy, her body, her life.

I step into the dark room, and the screens light up as soon as I flick the switch. The glow is harsh, the kind that feels like it’s burning into my soul. But I don’t care. This is where I work. This is where I can focus.

The first feed I pull up is from the gala. I go through the footage from the night. It’s the usual—people mingling, smiling, and posing for pictures. The world of the wealthy and beautiful. But I’m not interested in that. I’m not here to look at their faces.

I’m here for the shadows.

I know that somewhere, hidden in the footage, I’ll find the key. There must be a moment, one moment, where someone stepped too far. One slip-up where the camera caught something they didn’t want anyone to see.

It takes me a few minutes to find it. The feed comes up blurry at first because of people walking by and too many bodies in the frame. But then, there’s a movement. A brief flash. A shadow in the hallway.

I rewind the footage, and my fingers hover over the keys as I zoom in.

Someone’s standing there in the background. They’re not where they should be, and the camera’s angle is off, shaky, but it’s enough to make me freeze.

This isn’t random. It’s not some accident. Someone planted this footage. They knew exactly what they were doing.

I move faster, rewinding, zooming, and trying to piece it together. And then I catch him—the person in the background. It’s just a flash, but it’s enough.

I’ve seen that posture before. I’ve seen that walk. The man’s face is mostly obscured, but I know who it is. My gut twists with recognition.

Declan Pierce.

Of course it’s him. The last person I ever thought would be involved in something like this. The charming, harmless heir to a pile of meaningless money. The fucking bastard who thinks he can get away with everything because of who his family is.

The name hits me like a punch to the gut. I don’t need to think twice about it. He’s the one behind this. He’s the one who set everything in motion. I’ve seen the way he looked at her, the way he moved around her. Always just a little too close, and always a little too interested. I should have fucking known.

I hit a few keys, pulling up a detailed search of Declan’s personal information. His family’s wealth, his connections, his entire fucking life. I pull up everything, including business dealings, social accounts, and background checks. This is my world now. The digital shadows, where everyone hides their secrets. Well, I’m going to drag them all into the light.

But something about this doesn’t sit right with me. Declan’s the obvious culprit, but there’s a bigger fish to fry here. I don’t know what it is yet, and I need to dig deeper. I need to find out what’s really driving him.

I can feel my pulse quicken as I open more files. And then I see an encrypted document, one I wasn’t expecting. My hands move faster, my focus sharper as I break through the layers of encryption. The file opens, and my gut twists again.

It’s a series of messages, chat logs between Declan and Harper Westwood. Archived. Hidden. The two of them have been in this together. This isn’t just a one-off betrayal. This is a fucking conspiracy.

The messages are vague at first, but they’re full of implication. There’s talk about her, about Lyra, about controlling the narrative, and making her “less valuable.”

I feel my chest tighten as I read further. They’ve been working together to destabilize her. To mangle her.

I should’ve fucking checked their archived and spam messages before as well. I’m angry at myself for not protecting her. For being too distracted.

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