Page 39 of Closer Than You Think
We sink into the chairs, the leather cool against my skin. He seems distant, lost in thought, and I wonder if he regrets showing me this private corner of his world. But then he turns toward me, green eyes catching the firelight, and begins a tale that unravels the man behind the enigma.
“Before all this,” Silas starts, his gaze dropping to the flames, “I was a soldier. There's a brotherhood in the military; it's supposed to be honorable, about protecting your country, your loved ones.” His fingers graze a scar peeking from his collar, a pale line against bronzed skin. “But war . . . it doesn't discriminate between the just and the unjust.”
“Silas,” I breathe, leaning forward, drawn into his pain.
“Being good at something like killing—it changes you. When I left the service, Ares was a means to harness that . . . aptitude. On the outside, Ares is a security company. It’s dangerous work,but it’s necessary. No one except a very select group of people, and now that will include you, know its true purpose.”
I wait with bated breath, unsure where he’s going with this.
“I run an elite team. We take jobs . . . eliminating people.”
Confusion clouds my eyes before it dawns on me.
“You mean?—”
“I’m a cold-blooded killer, Hallie. I kill people for a living.”
I feel the blood drain from my face as his words sink in. A cold-blooded killer. Eliminating people. Everything I thought I knew about this complex man unravels in an instant.
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. Fear and fascination churn within me.
Silas leans forward, elbows braced on his knees. “Because you needed to know the truth before this goes any further between us. I’ve never told a soul about this. Other than the men on my team, obviously. I hope you know how much I trust you.”
I open my mouth but no words form. A hundred questions swirl through my mind, but all I can do is stare at the man across from me - this dichotomy of violence and virtue.
“I won't pretend my work is noble,” he continues after a heavy silence. “But there are reasons I walk this path, Hallie. Reasons you may come to understand in time.”
I should run, turn and flee this beautiful but deadly illusion he has built around himself. But the earnestness in his eyes roots me in place. He has opened a door to his soul, trusting me with his darkest truth. How can I betray that trust, even knowing what he is capable of?
“Hallie?” he asks, uncertainty creeping into his voice. “Please, say something.”
My heart races. I choose my next words carefully. “Silas, I won't pretend this doesn't frighten me. But I see the conflict in you - between darkness and light. And I believe that within everyone, no matter how lost, there is a capacity for good.”
Leaning forward, I place my hand over his, feeling the strength coiled beneath. “You didn't have to tell me any of this. But you did, because some part of you wants me to know the man behind the mask. The one who craves connection, even as he isolates himself.”
Silas' eyes widen almost imperceptibly. I press on. “You've shown me kindness, protected me. I can't reconcile that with what you say you do.” Squeezing his hand, I hold his gaze. “You are more than your worst deeds. I have to believe that.”
Silas looks down at our entwined fingers, then pulls me to him, taking my lips in a searing kiss. We pour everything we can’t say into this connection, and when we break apart, we’re both breathless.
“There’s not a single thing good about me, angel. Except you.”
“You can keep on believing that, but I know the truth,” I say with a smile. “You have goodness in you, Silas.”
A smile of his own tugs at the corner of his mouth, a glimmer of something fragile and untouched—hope, perhaps. “Hallie,” he says, my name a soft utterance, a prayer in the silence. “You make me want to believe that.”
Our eyes lock, and in the space between breaths, I see Silas Thatcher, not the assassin or the enigmatic protector, but the man—a patchwork of scars and tenderness, strength and vulnerability.
“Then believe it,” I whisper back, “because it's true.”
Eighteen
Hallie
Islice through the tomato, its ripe flesh yielding easily to the blade, and I pause as the kitchen door swings open. A gust of warm air ushers in Irma Gonzalez, Silas's trusted housekeeper and the closest thing he has to a family. My heart flutters with anticipation.
“Hello,” I say, setting down the knife and wiping my hands on the apron. “You must be Irma.” He’s told me about her, and I can’t pretend I’m not nervous to meet her.
She offers me a smile that crinkles the corners of her eyes, the kind that radiates genuine warmth. “Yes, and you're Hallie. Silas has told me much about you.”
