CHAPTER 419: LOUD SILENCE

When Athena came back into the sitting room, the stillness hit her harder than the cool night air she’d just left behind. The lamps threw a soft glow across the walls, yet the room felt dim, muffled, as if it had been holding its breath since she’d stepped outside.

Antonio’s words still clung to her ears, sharp as glass: It’s not a relationship then. She tried to shake them off, but her chest was still tight. He had been unhinged in a way she had never seen before, and she couldn’t help circling back to the question: was Ewan really enough reason for Antonio to unravel like that? To lose the restraint he always wore like a suit?

Or was this picture the real Antonio? In those few years they had spent staying together on most occasions, did she really see him, know him?

Her hand twitched against her side, and she straightened her shoulders. She couldn’t let her family see it—the turmoil, the sting of what had just happened. She had to be stone, at least in here. Still, she knew her absence had been too long. Their eyes would follow her, their questions unspoken but heavy in the air.

She crossed the room with deliberate calm, her face smoothed into neutrality, though inside, her pulse still stumbled.

Ewan sat on the couch, a stubborn set to his jaw, his thigh wrapped in a bandage already darkening with fresh blood. The sight of it made her throat close.

She lowered herself beside him, close enough that their knees almost touched. "Is he alive?" Her voice came out quieter than she meant, nearly fragile. "Zane?"

Ewan’s eyes met hers, steady. "Alive," he said simply.

Relief swept through her, though it didn’t erase the unease curling in her stomach. Alive wasn’t safe. Alive wasn’t whole. Did he lose any body part?

Her gaze dropped to his thigh, the crude binding, the sluggish seep of red. She didn’t touch, but her fingers hovered like they wanted to. "Tell me everything," she said, the softness gone now, replaced with steel.

Ewan studied her for a moment, then exhaled, slow, resigned. And he told her.

By the time he finished, Athena was sitting stiffly back in her seat, her hands clamped together so tightly her knuckles burned. The silence stretched again, filled with the weight of what he had just given her.

She breathed once, twice, then looked at him. "The hospital. The one they took Zane to. Is it safe?"

Ewan’s nod came after a pause. "Safer than here. We couldn’t risk bringing him in. If his father catches wind..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

She pressed her lips together, fighting the unease twisting her gut. It was the right call.

"And Herbert?" she asked, lifting her chin. "Hasn’t he asked about his son?"

That made Ewan huff out a dry laugh. "I told him Zane’s crashing with me for a few days. That we’re working on a start-up."

Her brows rose, and she gave a small, incredulous smile. "A start-up. Really?"

He shrugged. "That was the only thing that came to mind then."

Athena let out a breathy laugh, but it had no joy in it. "What happens when Herbert realizes there is no start-up?"

"Then we improvise again," Ewan said. His eyes softened just a little. "We always do."

Her gaze flicked down to his leg again. "And you?"

He tilted his head. "Me?"

"Your wound." Her tone was sharp, betraying the worry she tried to bury.

"It looks worse than it feels," he said. "I’ll manage."

She narrowed her eyes, but he met her stare, calm, steady. "You should worry less about me."

She didn’t answer. Instead, she turned toward Aiden, who had been unusually quiet, his posture upright but his expression shadowed.

"And the president?" she asked carefully. "How does he feel about our tips that always come late?"

Aiden lifted a shoulder in a shrug, though his mouth stayed flat. "Thinks I’m doing great."

"And the mission?" Athena pressed, watching him closely. "How did it go?"

That was when she saw it, again—the flicker in his eyes, the tension in his jaw. Something was wrong.

It was like when she had met him on the porch. The worry. She realised now that it was more for his own mission, than Ewan’s.

Susan too, wasn’t meeting her gaze.

Aiden raked a hand through his hair, his movements rough."It went badly," he admitted, voice thick with frustration. "We didn’t catch them. The doctors—they slipped through our fingers. All we managed was scattering the lab and tipping them off. They’ll be on guard now, harder to touch."

His words fell heavy, and for a moment, no one spoke. His fists tightened against his knees, his head dropping as if he couldn’t bear to meet their eyes.

Athena leaned forward, her voice softer, firmer. "Aiden. Look at me." She knew how her older friend could be with failed missions.

Slowly, reluctantly, he did. His eyes were rimmed with guilt, raw and bare.

"You did what you could," she said. "You came back. Sometimes survival is the only victory we’re given. That is enough."

He shook his head, but she wasn’t having it.

"We’ll have another chance," she said, holding his gaze. "And when we do, we’ll take it."

A thread of relief passed through his eyes, or at least the loosening of the noose around his chest.

Athena leaned back, her eyes sweeping across them all. "Thank you. For staying. For showing up when everything feels like it’s falling apart."

The silence that followed was different this time. Not heavy, but quiet, binding.

Then Ewan broke it. "And you? Your day?"

She looked at him, her lips tugging faintly before she answered. "We are staring down a virus that could wipe out millions."

The words sucked the warmth from the air.

"It’s contained," she added quickly, lifting a hand. "But if they release it..." She didn’t finish. She didn’t have to. The horror hung unsaid between them.

Athena stood beats later, smoothing her clothes with deliberate hands, reclaiming her composure. "That’s enough for tonight. Let’s get some rest. I’ll check on the patients with us."