Ewan couldn’t rember the last ti he felt this rested. On the rare occasions he did, it almost always had sothing to do with the woman sitting a few feet away from him.
Athena.
She had that effect—like peace wrapped in chaos, calm that always ca with a pulse that made him restless in the best and worst ways.
He had chosen the distance between them deliberately, not because he wanted it. If it were up to his mind—or the part of him that wasn’t ruled by restraint—he would have grabbed her the mont she stepped into the cottage earlier, looking like a goddess draped in red silk and soft perfu.
He would have kissed her senseless, pressed his lips down her neck, tasted her skin until she trembled the way she used to, until mory beca flesh again. He would have worshipped her, right from her feet to her legs, and maybe beyond. But he didn’t. Because of the cloud that hung above them. Because she was engaged.
And because no matter what his heart scread, he respected her. Respected her choices. Even if that ant sleeping tonight with nothing but blueballs and regret.
The movie was almost over. The quiet rhythm of the background music filled the room, and the ti on the clock ticked toward four a.m.
He stared at the screen, debating with himself if this was the right ti to talk about John’s confession—the truth he had kept back, the one clawing at his chest since the day he heard it.
He had promised her honesty after all. And he intended to keep that promise, even if it would snuff out the fragile warmth between them. It would kill the mood for sure, probably ruin what little ease they had found tonight—but when else could he tell her?
When she was knee-deep again in the chaos of the Grey virus, worrying about lives and cures and the brokenness of the world?
No. This was better. She was calm now, serene even. Now was the only right ti.
Ewan inhaled slowly and exhaled through his nose, counting his breaths to quiet the jitter in his pulse. Deep breaths. Twice. Then he counted the seconds until the credits rolled. He had watched this movie twice before—with his friends—and already knew it by heart.
No romantic scenes, nothing too emotional. Only action and grit. The only reason he could pull this off was because Athena loved action movies. That, at least, hadn’t changed.
When the credits finally scrolled across the screen, his tension rose to fill the silence. His heart rate spiked as she turned to him with a soft smile, beginning to talk about the movie.
"I loved it. Reminded of—" she paused, the rest of her words falling off when she noticed his distracted stare. It would have gone unseen by anyone else, but Athena had known him for too long not to notice that sothing was wrong. "What is it, Ewan? Why are you looking like that?"
Ewan wet his lower lip, turned away, and quietly switched off the television. The room dimd, leaving only the faint glow of candles flickering over their faces. When he faced her again, her expression mirrored his unease. Uncertainty. Fear even.
And who could bla her? He was rarely this... dramatic.
He ruffled his hair and sighed. "I didn’t tell you everything that happened when I went to John’s place." A pause. His throat felt dry, but he pushed through. "He told so things. Things you should know. It might turn your mood sour. Actually, it will."
Athena didn’t care about her mood. Her voice was calm but firm. "Tell , Ewan. Don’t hold back."
So he did. Every word. Every detail of John’s confession poured out of him—the events, the implications, the nas. He didn’t stop, even when she grew pale, her face drained of color, eyes wide with the kind of disbelief that cut deep.
When he finally finished, the silence between them was heavier than lead. He clasped his hands between his thighs, waiting for her judgnt.
Athena didn’t speak at first. She couldn’t. She wasn’t sure what she felt—confusion, anger, disgust, relief, or an overwhelming blend of all four. She exhaled shakily, rose to her feet, and began pacing the small living room.
Ewan’s heartbeat matched her rhythm, each step tightening sothing in his chest. He couldn’t even bring himself to stand; he was afraid to.
"So... Herbert was right then." Her voice was low, deliberate. "Cedric’s family was behind it."
Ewan blinked. "Herbert?" He frowned. "What does Herbert have to do with this?"
"I told him about it," she said, her tone flat. "It wasn’t exactly a secret in the inner circles that I was a Thorne. We went for dinner once. He talked about it."
Ewan nodded slowly. "So he knew too?"
Athena shrugged, rubbing at her chest, her expression pained. "My grandfather suspects too, I’m sure. But without evidence, he won’t move. He doesn’t want to accuse anyone without proof. But I know he’s wary of them." She turned to Ewan, eyes sharper now. "We’ll need evidence, Ewan."
He cocked a brow. "Of course. I’ll tell them—"
"I’ll tell them," she corrected softly. "But knowing my grandfather, he’ll want to handle it legally. Not the usual way we do things. I think he still has a soft spot for his sister."
Ewan understood perfectly.
"Those idiots," Athena muttered suddenly, her composure breaking, voice trembling as tears stung her eyes. "He loves his sister so much. That’s why the legal battle will co... but I am not him." She shook her head, anger burning through her restraint. "I’ll deal with them myself. Starting with Cedric. I can already sll the rot on him."
Ewan nodded, his jaw tight. "When I ran a check on him, I found out he wasn’t clean. Not even close. Shady business dealings. Ties to gangs. My guess is, his father’s doing. We’ll need to prepare, in case—"
"In case it gets bloody," Athena finished. "Then it gets bloody. If I can face the most notorious gang in the country, this would be a walk in the park."
He didn’t doubt her. Not for a second.
"We’ll deal with him after your forr gang," she said finally, turning her gaze to him. "Is that agreed?"
Instead of answering, Ewan looked at her—really looked—and she saw the gratitude in his eyes, the relief he didn’t voice. She frowned slightly. "Why do you look like that?"
"I thought you’d be angry with ."
"For what?" she asked softly. "You didn’t join that gang for this mission. You were what—two years old when it happened?" She gave a small, sad chuckle. "It’s John who’ll face reckoning, if there’s any. But that’s up to my grandfather."
When Ewan shut his eyes, she could read the guilt written on his face. He was feeling sorry for the man who had once been his boss, and she didn’t bother to soothe him. Whatever her grandfather decided, that would be it.
Maybe it was easier this way. Maybe not knowing her birth mother made it easier to accept justice as it ca. She sighed, letting the thought drift away, then sat down beside him again.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "For telling this. For trusting with it."
Ewan’s shoulders sagged. He looked a bit defeated. "It’s okay. When will you tell your grandparents?"
"Soon," she replied after a mont. "Depends."
He hesitated, then added, "I’m still in contact with John, though. He’s... trying to connect so dots, see if he can find the real sponsor behind the Grey madness."
Athena nodded, her expression thoughtful. She could tell he was buying ti for his old boss, giving him a chance to redeem himself.
"We’ll need all the help we can get," she finally said, her voice steady.
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