Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
SILAS
The kitchen swayed, light bled into black as my grip on the counter faltered, fingers slipping against the slick surface as the room closed in. A sharp, lancing pain shot through my side, radiating outward in a sickening pulse.
Fuck.
The adrenaline that’d been keeping me upright—keeping me alive—was wearing off too fast. My knees buckled. The tiled floor rushed up to meet me.
“Silas!”
Theo’s voice cut through the ringing in my ears.
Hands grabbed me before I hit the ground.
His strong hand clamped around my arm like a vice, stopping my fall at the last second.
My body jerked against his hold, muscles seizing from the strain.
The sudden movement ripped a new wave of pain through my side, and I sucked in a sharp breath, black spots dancing in my vision.
“No,” my voice slurred.
I didn’t fucking want this. Didn’t want them helping me, didn’t want to feel the weight of my own weakness pressing down.
But I couldn’t fight it.
A second set of hands gripped me. Jude. His touch was firm, but careful, unlike Theo whose frustration was bleeding through every movement. They half-dragged me between them, their breathing rough with exertion as they hauled my useless, bleeding ass towards the hallway.
“Jesus,” Jude pressed the back of his hand against my forehead. “He’s burning up.”
He wedged his shoulder against mine, taking more of my weight.
“You think?” Theo snapped. His grip tightened, fingers biting into my skin as he shifted to take more of the load. “He’s been bleeding like a stuck pig for the past damn hour, and didn’t say shit about it.”
I gritted my teeth and lifted my head, forcing my gaze to his as I tried to move. My limbs felt like dead weight. I hated this—this fucking weakness, this dependence. My side was wet, the heat of fresh blood soaking into the waistband of my jeans.
Behind us, footsteps echoed.
Her footsteps.
I didn’t need to see her to know she was there. Didn’t need to hear her voice to feel the way she was watching me, her silence pressing like a phantom touch against my skin.
Angelica .
The only fucking thorn in my side…the liar, the betrayer… our goddamn sister.
Rage simmered beneath the pain flaring into something hotter, something viscous. I fisted my hands at my sides as they hauled my ass down the hallway to the bathroom at the rear of the house. But my ass was heavy, leaving Theo to stumble under the weight and slam his shoulder against the wall.
“Where the fuck is Gabe?” He barked.
“I’m here,” Gabe’s voice came from behind us…and behind her. My little brother’s tone, low, flat…unreadable.
Jude reached inside the doorway, hitting the light switch.
Click .
The fact Gabe hadn’t rushed in to help me spoke volumes.
The moment Jude wrestled me into the bathroom, dropping my ass onto the edge of the massive bath, I felt it.
The shift of attention, that crawling along my spine.
In that moment my pain took a backseat to something darker as she stepped toward me. I lifted my gaze to her, fixing on her tousled hair and wide, unblinking eyes. The same eyes that fixed on mine as I fucked her mere hours before.
Theo stormed to the sink, wrenching open the cabinet with so much force it nearly ripped the door off its hinges. The sharp snap of wood cracked through the room as he yanked out a bottle of antiseptic and a thick packet of gauze…he was going to need more than what we’ve got.
“You should’ve called,” Gabe muttered, stepping inside the doorway and pressed his back against the wall. “You don’t have to be the hero all the goddamn time.”
“Fuck you ,” I croaked as Theo grabbed the gauze and headed toward me.
They had no fucking idea what it meant to lead this family.
Not a goddamn clue.
“Fucking move.” Theo snarled and pushed our sister aside.
I forced my head up, locking my gaze on her. The movement took too much effort, but I refused to show it. I refused to let her see how weak I was.
She looked like she was about to shatter.
Good.
I dragged in a slow, ragged breath.
“You’re the one who did this,” I rasped. “So fix it.”
The words landed like a slap.
Her lips parted, but no sound came.
Theo glanced from me to her, one brow rising as he took in the unspoken war that raged between us, then in an instant he lifted his hand, holding out the supplies to her.
I could see she was hurting, that lying brain of hers kicking into overdrive.
She knew.
She fucking knew.
Because she had to.
Our sister swallowed hard, stepped forward, grabbing the bottle of antiseptic then dropped to her knees in front of me.
And the real war began.
She was too close.
Too fucking close.
She knelt between my legs, the space so suffocatingly tight that every breath I took brought the scent of her in—floral and wrong, like it taunted me.
Her hands trembled as they hovered over my ribs, the torn fabric of my shirt barely clinging to my skin. I could feel the warmth of her breath, the soft hitch of air when she lifted what was left of the tattered mess and saw the deep gash from the machete underneath and stared.
The hesitation made my blood boil.
“Don’t fucking think about it,” I rasped. “Just do it.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she grabbed the shredded hem of my shirt. She hesitated for half a second too long.
Then she ripped it open.
A sharp sting raced across my skin as the fabric peeled away from the wound. I barely held back a hiss, biting down against the pain. Not in front of her. Not in front of them.
Angelica’s breath hitched. She wasn’t prepared for the sight of it.
I saw it in her wide, glassy eyes—the blood smeared across my ribs, the fresh, seeping gash, the damage she had indirectly caused.
She did this.
She fucking did this…
She fucking ruined me.
Her fingers ghosted over my skin, barely touching, but I felt them like a brand. I hated how my body reacted to it.
Hated that I wanted more.
I clenched my jaw as she poured antiseptic over the wound. The burn was sharp, eating through my nerves like fire, but I didn’t make a sound. Not even when she turned, pushed to stand and moved silently to the cabinet.
We all watched her as she rifled through the drawers, pulling out a first aid kit and unclipped the latches, a staple gun was there, still sealed in the plastic. She tugged the edges, peeled it free before she came back to me.
One nervous glance and she eased to her knees once more. I fucking loved watching her kneel for me. I loved knowing it wasn’t that haunting piece of fucking shit from that recording she kneeled for now.
Clack .
I winced, held my breath with the sting of pain, but I didn’t move.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Each staple. Each breath. Each goddamn second stretched out in front of us until her touch jerked against my skin and she lowered the gun to the floor.
“Stop it,” I said coldly.
Her head snapped up. “Stop what?”
“Shaking.” My eyes burned into hers. “You don’t get to be afraid right now.”
Her throat bobbed. But she nodded. She pressed the cloth harder against the wound, whether out of defiance or punishment, I didn’t know.
Jude crouched beside me, probing the wound, watching every move she made. “Looks like our sister is rattled,” he muttered, voice unreadable. “She’s not usually this rough.”
Theo gave a snarl from the counter. “Guess we all have something to be pissed about tonight.”
Angelica swallowed hard, but she didn’t stop.
And I just sat there, hating her, hating myself, and wondering how much of me she had already ruined.
The silence stretched, suffocating.
Angelica’s fingers tightened on the gauze as she pressed it against my wound. She was careful now, gentler than before, like she was trying to make up for something.
As if she fucking could.
How the fuck could she?
This was just another ambush right? Another fucking betrayal.
First, the recordings of my mother.
Then, the recordings of her…at that fucking place called the Order.
No matter how you looked at it?—
It was her name stabbed right in the middle of it all.
All the way into my goddamn chest.
I let her do it. I let her hover over me, hands shaking, breath too fast. I let her pretend she was helping.
Then I grabbed her wrist.
Her breath hitched.
The entire room stilled.
I dragged her closer, her knees knocking against mine, her pulse leaping under my fingers.
“ Why do they want you?” I said, voice like gravel. Low. Dangerous.
Her eyes snapped to mine.
“What the fuck are you hiding from us?”
Her lips parted, but nothing came out.
She froze, the guilt rolling off her in waves.
Jude straightened. Theo stopped pacing the damn bathroom. Gabe exhaled slowly.
But it was her, I was fixed on. Every goddamn reaction. Her body locked up, her fingers twitching like she wanted to rip herself out of my grip and run. But that’s all she did right?
She fucking ran.
Not anymore.
I tightened my grip, even as I oozed fucking blood I had the strength to pull her closer. “Tell me.”
She swallowed hard. Her eyes wide and haunting. “I?—”
“Say it.” Theo’s voice snapped across the room, sharp and jagged.
She jumped. Her breath shuddering. Her body shook.
Jude’s footsteps pounded against the floor as he stormed toward us. He grabbed the back of her neck, forcing her to look at me. “Look at him! Tell him! TELL US!”
She broke.
Her trembling lips barely parting as the words hissed out. “I…I can’t.”
Can’t?
Or fucking won’t?
Theo shoved her forward, standing over her.
“You fucking can’t? YOU FUCKING CAN’T? Our brother almost died tonight.
You get that right? He almost died and we have a goddamn cartel coming for us.
Now is not the time for can’t, little sister.
Now is the time for answers and they’d better come hard and fast.”
He sucked in a hard breath. His eyes incensed and glinting, like he wanted to say something else. Something like.
Come hard and fast like you did, you lying fucking bitch.