Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Artemis
The text came at three forty-seven in the morning.
No greeting. No explanation. No context. Pure Silas.
I was already awake—had been for an hour, tossing in my nest and thinking about Thursday, about what I was going to tell them, about the way my life had tilted on its axis and refused to right itself. Sleep wasn't coming. Might as well chase the dawn with a man who moved like smoke.
I'll be on the porch.
His truck pulled up at four twenty-eight, headlights cutting through the pre-dawn dark, engine rumbling low before going silent.
I watched him unfold from the driver's seat—all lean predator grace, dressed in dark clothes that made him nearly invisible against the night.
His pale eyes found me on the porch, and something in my chest loosened at the sight of him.
"Hey, gorgeous." I kept my voice soft, mindful of the sleeping bayou around us, my bare feet silent on the worn wood as I crossed to meet him.
"Artemis." He said my name like it meant something, like the syllables themselves were precious, his pale gaze tracking over me with that unnerving intensity that should have made me uncomfortable but never did.
"There's something I want to show you." He added, opening the passenger door without waiting for my response, certain I'd follow.
I did. Of course I did.
The drive was quiet—not awkward, just still. Silas didn't fill silence with chatter the way Remy did, didn't offer gruff half-sentences the way Harper might. He simply existed beside me, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the console between us, close enough to touch if I wanted.
I wanted.
I reached over and laced my fingers through his, feeling the rough texture of old scars against my palm, the warmth of his skin in the cool morning air. He didn't startle, didn't pull away. Just adjusted his grip to hold me more securely, his thumb tracing a slow pattern against my wrist.
"You're up early." I said, watching the dark trees slide past the window, their shapes slowly becoming visible as the sky shifted from black to deep blue. "Or did you not sleep at all?" I asked, studying his profile in the dim light of the dashboard.
"Sleep and I have an understanding." He replied, his pale eyes fixed on the road ahead, his thumb still moving against my wrist in slow circles. "I don't expect much from it, and it doesn't disappoint me." He finished, something wry in his tone that might have been humor.
"Nightmares?" I asked softly, my thumb tracing circles on the back of his hand, not pushing, just opening a door he could walk through or not.
He was quiet for a long moment, the only sound the hum of tires on asphalt and the distant call of an owl.
"Sometimes." He admitted finally, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.
"Less, lately." He glanced at me then, something vulnerable flickering behind his pale eyes before he turned back to the road.
"Been sleeping better since..." He trailed off, the words catching in his throat.
"Since?" I prompted gently, squeezing his hand, watching his profile in the growing light as the sky shifted from deep blue to pale gray.
"Since I have something worth waking up for." He said it simply, like stating a fact, like it wasn't the kind of admission that made my heart stutter in my chest.
I didn't know what to say to that, so I just held his hand tighter and watched the sky lighten.
We drove deeper into the parish than I usually ventured, past the turnoff to his rehabilitation center and down a dirt road I'd never noticed before.
The trees pressed close on either side, Spanish moss brushing the roof of the truck like ghostly fingers, and then the road opened into a clearing I hadn't known existed.
"What is this place?" I leaned forward in my seat, peering through the windshield at the chain-link enclosures barely visible in the darkness, the low building with its metal roof, the shapes moving in the shadows.
"Overflow facility." Silas killed the engine, his pale eyes reflecting the first hints of gray on the horizon.
"For the ones who can't go back to the main center.
Too wild. Too damaged." He paused, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.
"Too dangerous for most people to handle.
" He finished, something in his voice suggesting he wasn't just talking about animals.
"Not too dangerous for you." I squeezed his hand, watching the corner of his mouth twitch in what might have been a smile, the first hint of light catching the sharp angles of his face.
"No." He agreed simply, something dark and knowing flickering in his pale eyes, then released my hand to climb out of the truck. "Come. There's someone I want you to meet." He said, his voice soft in the pre-dawn stillness, holding out his hand to help me down.
I followed him past the main building to a large enclosure at the back of the property, set apart from the others.
The fence was higher here, reinforced with additional mesh, and warning signs dotted the perimeter.
Silas ignored all of them, moving to a spot where the chain-link met a concrete observation platform.
"Stay here." He held up a hand, his pale eyes serious.
"Don't move. Don't speak. Just watch." He instructed, his voice dropping into something low and steady that made my instincts sit up and pay attention.
I nodded, pressing my back against the cold concrete, making myself small and still the way Marguerite had taught me when we'd watch herons fish in the shallows. Patience. Stillness. Respect.
Silas moved to a gate I hadn't noticed, working the lock with practiced ease, and slipped inside the enclosure. My heart stuttered—whatever was in there required this much security, and he was just walking in like it was nothing.
Then I saw her.
She emerged from the shadows—a gray wolf, lean and scarred, one ear torn ragged and her muzzle silver with age.
She was massive, easily a hundred pounds of muscle and teeth and wild instinct, and she was watching Silas with eyes that glowed amber in the growing light.
He didn't approach her. Didn't call to her or extend his hand or do any of the things I'd seen people do with animals.
He simply lowered himself to a crouch, making himself smaller, less threatening, and waited.
Minutes passed. The sky shifted from gray to pink to pale gold, and still Silas didn't move. Neither did the wolf. They watched each other with the patience of creatures who understood that time was meaningless, that trust couldn't be rushed, that some things had to be earned in silence.
Then, finally, the wolf moved.
She approached him in a wide arc, never coming straight on, always keeping an escape route open.
Her nose twitched, reading his scent the way I might read a tarot spread—looking for truth, for threat, for intention.
She circled him once, twice, and then settled onto her haunches about three feet away.
Silas still didn't move. Didn't reach for her. Just sat there, breathing slow and steady, his pale eyes never leaving hers. The wolf huffed once—a sound that might have been acknowledgment or annoyance—and then lay down, her scarred head resting on her massive paws, her amber eyes finally closing.
Only then did Silas move. He rose slowly, carefully, and made his way back to the gate, slipping through with the same silent grace he'd entered. When he reached me on the observation platform, something in his expression had shifted—softer, somehow. More open.
"Luna." He said quietly, coming to stand beside me, his shoulder brushing mine as we both watched the wolf through the fence.
"Found her three years ago. Leg caught in an illegal trap.
Half-starved. Feral with pain and fear." His jaw worked, the muscle jumping beneath his stubbled skin.
"Took six months before she'd let me in the enclosure without trying to take my throat out.
" He paused, his pale eyes distant. "Another year before she'd rest while I was there.
" He finished, something like pride warming his rough voice.
"She trusts you." I said softly, leaning into his side, feeling the warmth of him seep through my thin shirt as we watched Luna's sides rise and fall with slow, peaceful breaths.
"She tolerates me." He corrected, but there was no bite to it.
"Trust takes longer. Maybe forever, with the wild ones.
" He turned to look at me then, his pale gray eyes catching the first rays of true sunlight, and I felt pinned by his gaze in the best possible way.
"You remind me of her." He said quietly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from my face, his calloused fingers lingering against my cheek.
"Feral and half-starved?" I raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at my lips as I fought the urge to lean into his touch, my skin tingling where his fingers traced my jaw.
"Wild." He said simply, his voice dropping lower.
"Wounded in ways most people can't see. Still fighting.
" His thumb traced the line of my cheekbone, his pale eyes tracking the movement with that intense focus that made me feel like the only person in the world.
"You don't trust easy. Neither does she.
When you do..." He trailed off, his gaze dropping to my mouth.
"When I do?" I prompted, my voice coming out breathier than I'd intended, my heart hammering against my ribs.