I’m Fine
I’m Fine
SILAS
FIVE MONTHS, THIRTEEN DAYS, AND TWO HOURS AGO
S tanding before his Uncle Cain, alpha of the Salt Creek pack, Silas felt six years old again. His insides trembled beneath that cold, yellow gaze—the one that’d always made him feel so alone and unworthy.
It’d been twenty-seven years since he last saw his uncle, and frankly, another twenty-seven wouldn’t be long enough for him to feel ready for this confrontation.
But then Finn shifted to his right, stepping close. Sheppard did the same on his left. Their movements were subtle—probably undetectable to anyone else, and more intended to block the three humans behind them from Cain’s vicious gaze, but it focused Silas.
He wasn’t that lonely, afraid little boy anymore. He had friends that made him strong. He had Finn and Sheppard, and Sammy, Jaime, and DA Rivera, too.
Yes. He could be brave for them. He could be brave because of them.
“What are you doing here?” Silas growled, hoping his uncle couldn’t hear the slight tremor in his voice.
His smirk told Silas he had. Instead of answering, Cain spewed some bullshit about not being aware one of his pack members had been trying to kill them. Honestly, Silas barely heard him. He was too focused on breathing steadily.
Then, Cain turned to the DA. “Prosecute Jeffrey Dugan and let that be the end of it, District Attorney Rivera. I would hate for the career that you’ve worked so hard for to be jeopardized over a few files you shouldn’t be digging around in, anyway.”
Sheppard didn’t take that very well.
Looking back at Silas, Cain continued, “And the same goes for you, Nephew. Let’s set the past aside. I would hate for something to happen if you go poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
Silas growled, hackles raised. But before he could tell the man who’d taken the instincts he’d been born with and tainted them, twisted them into something to fear to fuck right off, someone pushed their way in front of him.
Sammy. Stupidly fearless Sammy.
His Sammy.
“Is that a threat?” Sammy snarled, and Silas felt like he could fly. He could conquer the world; he could do anything as long as this recklessly bold, fierce man was at his side. Silas wanted to throttle Sammy for standing up to Cain, and he wanted to howl for all to hear that this man was his.
Sammy’s scent had been stuck in the back of Silas’ throat for nearly his entire life. He had no way of knowing when they crossed paths that fateful day twenty-seven years ago who Sammy was—what he would mean to Silas when they were older.
He’d all but forgotten the encounter ever happened; with the upheaval of fleeing the pack and starting their lives over with Silas attending a human school, his memory of the fox-haired boy had faded, settling into the pockets of his subconscious, disappearing from view entirely.
But his scent lingered, like freshly made waffle cones over a roaring fire.
It was just strong enough for Silas to know he should chase it. To remind him, deep down, that even though he’d enjoyed a night or two with many beautiful men, he hadn’t found what he was looking for.
It also explained why he’d popped an involuntary boner on a camping trip with Finn when they were fourteen, sitting in front of a campfire eating s’mores.
He’d never been able to properly explain that.
Cain’s pallid yellow eyes, full of calculating awareness and open resentment, tracked Silas’ movements as he banded an arm across Sammy’s broad shoulders, pulling him back against him.
Sammy didn’t cower beneath the gaze Silas himself struggled to maintain, and Cain’s eyes narrowed. Could he sense the same thing Silas saw, staring back at him whenever he looked at Sammy Lamont?
He was human, yes. But also something else. Something more.
Alpha sang through Sammy’s blood, calling to Silas, to his wolf; a beacon in the dark. A demand to rise and face his birthright head-on. A warm hand in his, fingers linked, as he stepped into the role he’d run from his entire life; the one he couldn’t do alone.
An equal. A match.
Mate.
Matematematemate, his wolf chanted.
Cain’s eyes flicked up, and his slimy grin made Silas’ stomach curdle.
He knows. He knows.
Protect. Protect. Protect.
“I would also hate for your growing pack to be held accountable for your meddling,” Cain crooned.
Silas snarled, the sound rumbling up from deep in his chest, and he gripped Sammy tighter, pulling him flush against him. He may be more than a head shorter than Silas, but he was not a delicate man. The red stubble that had grown on his chin scratched along Silas’ arms, giving him goosebumps.
“Get out of here, and do not threaten me or mine again, Cain,” Silas growled, and his voice finally steadied with Sammy in his arms.
None of them breathed until the Salt Creek intruders were gone.
Finn clapped him on the back before throwing an arm across Jaime’s shoulders, guiding him toward their truck. He looked back long enough to cock an eyebrow at Silas’ hold on Sammy, before nodding, ushering Jaime along.
DA Rivera and Sheppard disappeared back inside.
Sammy seemed to realize they were alone and still pressed together because he huffed and stepped out of Silas’ space. “Don’t manhandle me, you giant oaf.”
Right. Back to Giant Oaf, were they?
“You shouldn’t have done that. It was dangerous,” Silas said, because it was easier than falling to his knees and asking Sammy to come home with him and never leave.
“I don’t like bullies. Don’t read into it,” Sammy said, waving Silas off like it didn’t matter; like he hadn’t just challenged the alpha of the most violent pack in the whole state for threatening him.
Matematematemate.
Yes, I hear you. Shut the fuck up so I can do something about it.
“ Still. I can handle Cain, Sammy. You don’t need to do that again. I can protect you. Come on, let’s go home and then we can talk about?—”
Sammy cut him off. “Don’t call me that. And yes, I am going home. My home. Now that Jaime’s with Finn and not in immediate danger, he doesn’t need the security detail anymore. Which means I don’t need to be updated by you anymore, either.”
He turned and began walking away from Silas toward the truck.
I don’t need to be updated by you, anymore.
What did he mean by that?
Silas stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his feet before he caught up, keeping pace beside Sammy. “What do you mean? Nothing’s over. We’re not—I mean, you just—we can’t be done. And Jaime might not be in imminent danger, but you sure fucking are. I heard what you told him. I’ve seen the way you look over your shoulder whenever we’re in public. You have a fucking stalker . Let me help?—”
Sammy scowled, whirling on him. “You shouldn’t have been listening in on that. Just because you have… super hearing doesn't give you the right to eavesdrop on my private conversations.” He waved his hands in front of him as he spoke, like Silas’ enhanced senses were some kind of magical spell.
Silas balked. He hadn’t meant to hear it—Sammy had just been talking loudly. And ok, maybe he’d been curious and wanted to know what had kept Sammy away from Jaime this past year.
Because none of it made any sense. Sammy wouldn’t have dropped thousands of dollars for an around-the-clock security detail on someone he didn’t care for; he wouldn't have demanded twice-daily updates on Jaime’s well-being if he wasn’t invested in making sure he was ok.
Sammy’s care for his brother poured out of him. His need to protect the people he loved was tangible; it called to Silas as fiercely as that song in his blood.
Matematematematemate.
“I wouldn’t have to listen in on your conversations if you were more open with me,” Silas said, his frustration bleeding through. He stepped forward, crowding the shorter man. “You should’ve told me about this, Sammy. I can help. It’s literally what I do for a living. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Something flashed in Sammy’s eyes. Fear? Pain? Regret? He looked like a cornered and wounded animal. Near-snarling, Sammy said, “ Stop calling me that! And I don’t want your help. I want to go home, and move on with my life.”
Silas took a step back, feeling like he’d been slapped. The backs of his eyes burned. “You can’t be fucking serious,” he said, voice breaking. “Why won’t you let me help? Please . Stay. I need?—”
I need you , he’d been about to say. I just found you, and I can’t do this without you. I can’t be an alpha alone.
“I can figure out who the stalker is and track them down,” he went with instead. “I can make sure they stop. I can make you safe. Please.”
He reached for Sammy’s— Sam’s —hand. It had been so warm before; smaller, and soft, but strong. Was it really only a few hours ago that he’d held it the whole way to Finn and Jaime’s safe house?
His hand was cold and clammy in Silas’ grip, now. Sammy yanked it away.
His voice became detached and remote like he was speaking to Silas from the other side of an unscalable wall—infinitely worse than the snarl it’d been a few moments ago. “I don’t know what misunderstanding there’s been between us, but I don’t want your help. I don’t want you to track them down. I don’t want you , Silas. I want to go home. Alone.”
No, no no no no no.
“Sammy, please ? —”
But before Silas could beg him not to do this, to just give him a chance, to give them a chance, DA Rivera walked out of the security office. He glanced between them, clearly sensing he’d interrupted something, and said, “Sorry, I’m just on my way back to Monroe. I don’t want to interrupt.”
He walked around them but Sammy followed, voice horribly neutral. “Can I get a ride? I’m going that way, too.”
NONONONO. Go with mate. Stay with mate. Protect mate.
He doesn’t want us to go with him. He doesn’t want us.
How was Sammy so calm and collected when Silas was fractured glass?
DA Rivera cast a weary glance toward Silas before he said, “Sure thing. No problem.”
Sammy didn’t even fully turn around to look at him. Over his shoulder, he said, “Thanks for… thanks. Bye, Silas.”
He couldn’t reply. It would only be his wolf’s distraught wailing, anyway.
Silas watched Sammy get into the DA’s car and buckle his seat belt. He watched them pull out of the parking lot and drive off. He continued to stand there until Sheppard exited the office minutes or hours or years later, startled at the sight of Silas still in the same spot Sammy had left him.
“Woah, I didn’t think you were still here.”
Silas turned. “Hmm? What?”
Sheppard cocked his head in question. “You good?”
Silas headed for his truck, hollow and alone, with the image of Sammy walking away from him playing over and over in his head.
I don’t want you.
“I’m fine.”