The aftermath of the kidnapping left Thorne Manor in a state of clinical, terrifying efficiency. The police had finally left, their sirens fading into the distance, taking with them the men who had dared to touch my son. But the silence that followed was worse. It was heavy, thick with the scent of spilled bourbon and the lingering ozone of the high voltage surge I’d sent through the boathouse systems.
I sat on the edge of the velvet sofa in the study, my muscles aching from the adrenaline crash. My arms were wrapped tightly around Toby, who was fast asleep against my chest. His small, rhythmic breaths were the only thing keeping me anchored. To the world, he was a Thorne heir a prize. To me, he was just my Peanut, and tonight, I had almost lost him.
Silas stood by the floor to ceiling w
