Chapter 2 CHAPTER TWO

RAGNAR

I pushed the bathroom door open and stepped out into the cool air. I do not bother reaching for a towel because there is no one here to see me. Water dripped from my hair and trails down my chest and I rub my hand over my face to clear the last remnants of sleep. 

I grabbed the towel from the rack and ran it roughly over my head, scrubbing at my hair. I reached for my clothes when the phone on the nightstand buzzed loudly.  

My body went still for half a second before I crossed the space in three quick strides and picked up the phone, my eyes landing on the encrypted number, the one that only one person in this world used to contact me. I answer immediately, pressing the phone to my ear.

"Preparations are complete," the Handler on the other end said, their voice flat and emotionless, as it always is, as it has been for every call I have received over the past years of planning. "The operation begins tonight. You have the final instructions."

I did not respond. I wait, patiently, listening carefully even as my heart keeps raving. 

"The Wolfe Holdings charity gala starts at eight. Your credentials are already registered. You will arrive early, and familiarize yourself with the layout, and you will present yourself as efficient, and forgettable. The Wolfe twins will be in attendance, as will their father and the rest of the family's inner circle. Your mission is to gain access, and try to earn their trust. Do not attempt anything reckless tonight. This is the first step, not the final one."

"Understood," I said, and my voice was calm and steady.

The Handler pauses for a moment, and when they speak again there is something different in their tone, something that sounds almost like caution. "Once you step into the wolves' den, there is no turning back. You understand what that means."

The apartment door suddenly swings open and Silas walks in carrying a brown paper bag in one hand and two drinks in the other.

"There you are," he calls out, his voice easy, but his words trailed off when he looked up and saw me standing there in all my bare skin with a phone plastered to my ear. His eyes lingered for half a second longer than they should, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face before he turned his head to the side and busied himself with setting the bag down on the small kitchen counter.

"I brought food," he whispers, and his voice is carefully casual. "And drinks. If you care."

I swallow hard. "I know," I finally reply, and the words come out sure. I had accepted long ago that there was no turning back, there never was, there never will be.

The call ends and I lower the phone from my ear, staring at the dark screen for a moment before tossing it onto the bed where it lands with a soft thud against the mattress. 

“Hey,” I say, and I do not miss the way he avoids looking at me or the faint tension in his jaw, but I don’t give it much thought because Silas has been my friend since forever.

I cross the room and take one of the drinks from his hand without asking, lifting it to my lips and taking a long sip that cools my throat.

"That's mine," he protests, but there is no real heat in his voice.

"I know," I say, and I take another sip just to watch him roll his eyes.

He shakes his head and begins pulling containers from the paper bag and setting them out on the counter. "Who was on the phone?" he asks, and the question is casual.

"The Handler," I answer, and I do not look at him when I say it.

He nods slowly, his hands stilling on the container he is opening, and I can feel the weight of his attention shifting from the food to me, studying me the way he has always done when he wants to know what I am thinking without asking outright. "And?"

I set the drink down on the counter and reach for the clothes laid out on the chair, the tailored suit prepared specifically for tonight. "Tonight's the night," I say quietly.

The air stills and Silas goes quiet, his hands dropping to his sides, and I feel his gaze on my back as I pull the shirt over my shoulders and begin buttoning it. "Are you certain?" he asks, and his voice is lower now, softer, rid of all the humor that usually fills our conversations. "Ragnar. Look at me."

I finish buttoning the shirt before I turn to face him. He is standing by the counter with his arms crossed over his chest and his face is serious.

"I've been waiting fourteen years," I say, and my voice is steady because I have rehearsed this moment a thousand times in my head, have imagined every possible response and counter-response I could come up with. "I'm not going to back out now."

He studies me for a long moment, searching my face for hesitation or doubt, and I meet his gaze without flinching. "Revenge has a way of costing more than people expect," he finally says, and his voice is careful and measured. "You might think you've already paid the price, but the truth is you never know what the final toll will be until it's already taken from you."

I pick up the trousers from the chair and step into them, pulling them up over my hips and fastening them with quick practiced movements. "I've already paid," I replied, without looking at him. "My parents paid, my pack paid. The only thing left is for the Wolfe family to pay their share."

Silas's expression tightens and a flicker of something dark passing across his face before he smooths it away. "Just promise me you'll be careful," he says, and his voice is strained in a way that makes me finally look up. "Promise me you won't do anything reckless."

I hold his gaze for a long moment, and then I nod once, a small and simple gesture that seems to satisfy him even though we both know it is a promise I cannot keep. He crosses the room and reaches for my tie, he loops it around my collar and begins to knot it.

"There," he says, stepping back and letting his hands fall away from the tie, and for just a second he hesitates before letting them drop completely, before taking a step back and putting distance between us. "You look like you belong in their world."

"Good," I reply, and I reach for the suit jacket and shrug it over my shoulders, adjusting the cuffs and smoothing the fabric until it sits perfectly against my frame. "That's the point."

I turn away from him and walk toward the small dresser in the corner, then I pull open the top drawer and reach beneath a stack of folded shirts to find the old photograph I have kept hidden there since the night I escaped Thornvale. I lift it carefully and look at the faces of my parents. "This is for you," I whisper, and my voice is barely audible even to my own ears. "Tonight is the beginning. I will make them pay for what they did to us. I swear it."

I tuck the photograph back beneath the shirts and close the drawer and turn to face Silas, who is watching me with an expression I cannot quite read. "I have to go," I say, and I walk toward the door with steady measured steps that do not give away my racing heart.

"Ragnar," he says, and his voice stops me with my hand on the handle.

I glance back at him. "Yes?"

He opens his mouth as if to speak, then closes it again, and I wait for a moment before he finally shakes his head and forces a smile that does not quite reach his eyes. "Just come back," he says quietly. "That's all I ask."

I nod once and turn the handle and step out into the hallway, shutting the door behind me.