16. Silas
Silas
The PalMerc doctor had come to see me a few days ago. He had been contacted by the medic who stitched me up. He wasn’t happy that I left so quickly, but he didn’t understand that I needed to get back to Jack.
We might have gotten into a small argument, and I may have threatened him with my gun; he was standing between me and my dove.
What the hell was I supposed to do!
Callan had to step in, grab me in a choke hold, and drag me away while the medic screamed about calling the MP.
Absolute prick.
Callan had thrown me into a car and took us straight to the airport. Mack was the same as me. He wanted to get back to Mason as fast as he could.
I didn’t know what was going on with Mason, but he rarely came into the office anymore. He preferred to work from home. Mack didn’t elaborate. He only said he needed to get back to him, so I didn’t ask questions.
I had boarded the plane, taken my seat, slammed back some painkillers, and slept the rest of the way home.
The medic also contacted PalMerc and filed a formal complaint with CJ, who had visited me and gave me the look. Then he yelled, “Seriously, Si, a gun? What the hell were you thinking?” He shook his head, smiled and called me a “fucking idiot,” and that was that.
He gets it.
Now that same medic has caused me to be forced to stay “under observation” for a few days in hospital.
So here we are.
Jack had been given the all clear, but as soon as he found out I was staying, he stayed too.
I bitched and moaned and told him and the doctor that I could rest at home, but Jack told me that if I did not stay and do as I was told, he would ring his uncle.
The little shit.
So I reluctantly stayed.
* * *
Jack’s quiet the entire drive home. Every time I glance over, his fingers are curled tight around the hem of his shirt, twisting, releasing, twisting again. The closer we get, the more his chest rises too fast, like he can’t get a full breath in.
His breathing is erratic, and it hits me hard in the gut because I know exactly what that means–he’s bracing for an impact, even if he doesn’t quite know what’s coming.
I reach over and take his hand. He startles, looking at me quick, eyes wide, then turns back to the window like he’s trying to hide the panic crawling up his throat.
“Hey,” I say softly, keeping my voice low, steady. “I’m right here.”
His fingers twitch under mine, but he doesn’t pull away. At least that’s something. I squeeze his hand gently and give him a quick smile.
By the time I pull into the driveway, his breathing is shallow, his shoulders tight. I kill the engine and sit there for a moment, watching him He’s staring straight ahead, jaw clenched, like he’s holding himself together by sheer force.
“Jack,” I say, turning toward him. “Look at me.”
It takes a few seconds, but he does. His eyes are glassy, overwhelmed, scared in a way I know he hates showing. I lift our joined hands, brushing my thumb over his knuckles.
“You’re safe, dove” I tell him quietly. “We’re home, and baby, I’ve got you.”
His throat works like he’s trying to swallow something big. His Adam’s apple jumps in his throat, and I see his pulse jumping under his skin. He nods once, small but shaky.
“Come on. I’ll help you out.” I murmur.
I hop out and circle around the car. When I open his door, he doesn’t look at me, but he steps out, his body leaning just slightly toward mine. It’s subtle, but I feel it.
I rest my hand on the back of his neck, and he shifts closer, the movement barely there, his breathing shaky and the sound hits me hard, breaking something inside me.
“Come on,” I say gently, threading my fingers through his and guiding him to the house.
We get inside, and Jack pauses just inside the doorway. His eyes sweep the room, landing on the spot by the kitchen island. I see the exact moment the memory hits him as a tremor runs through his body, sharp and involuntary. His breath stutters, then it spikes into something short and shallow.
I move without thinking.
I step up behind him, sliding my arm around his waist and pull him back against my chest. The second we touch, he lets out a sob, a raw broken sound that tears right through me.
Oh, my boy. My hurting, brave boy.
“I’ve got you, dove,” I whisper into his hair. “You’re going to be okay, baby.”
His arms lift, fingers wrapping around my forearm, gripping tight as if I’m the only solid thing in the room. He turns in my hold, pressing his face to my chest, breath hitching, and his voice cracked from everything he’s already spilled over the last few days.
I hold him there, steady and unmoving, letting him cling to me, letting him fall apart, and silently letting him know that he doesn’t have to do any of this alone.
“I didn’t think they would find me.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t think he’d ever see me again.”
“I know.”
He pulls in a deep breath, a jagged, broken sound that echos straight into the deepest parts of me. I hold him tighter, feeling every tremor of his body, and hear every fractured inhale.
I knew the instant I met Jack that he was wrecked, not ruined or broken, but wrecked in that way a masterpiece is wrecked over time.
Not broken, but marked by life, scarred and unforgettable by what he’s survived.
Pain carved him, survival shaped him and underneath it all, beneath the scars and the fear I see a wild, beating thing inside him that still wants to fly.
I would burn kingdoms, gods, and every man who ever laid a hand on him just to give him the sky.
He’s my dove; white, fragile, furious, just waiting to be released, waiting to fly free.
His head shifts against my chest, and I feel his breath hitch, a fresh sob tearing loose from his throat. “I don’t want to go back.”
My chest tightens so sharply it hurts. “You’re not going back, Jack. Not while I’m breathing.”
His hands slide up my chest, clutching my shirt. He looks at me, his eye red, swollen, terrified when he looks at me, and I swear I feel the fear like it’s my own.
“Silas,” he whispers. “He called me Jackie.”
“I heard, Baby.”
“I hate that name.”
“I know, dove.”
His face crumples, and I cup his jaw, my thumb brushing the corner of his mouth. I feel his lips tremble against the pad of my thumb, “He only used it when he wanted something. When I was in the ring. Training. It sits alongside pain. I feel it like a physical punch.”
My jaw clenches. “He’s never getting anything from you again.”
Jack swallows hard, then leans forward, pressing his face into my neck. His breath warms my skin, uneven and shaky, and his fingers slide up, threading through my hair.
“Can I stay tonight? Can you stay with me?” he asks quietly. “Just tonight.”
“Oh, my boy.” My hand moves up his spine, slow and steady. “Absolutely, I’m not going anywhere.”
He nods, and I feel the way his whole body sags against mine, exhaustion pulling him down like gravity finally caught him. It’s still early afternoon, but I can see he’s done. I can see my boy needs his bed.
“Hop up.” I say gently, shifting my grip so I can lift him with my good arm.
He doesn’t argue or even hesitate, and I huff a laugh when he literally climbs up my body. He leans into me giving me all his weight, trusting me to carry him.
He wraps his arms around my neck, and I slide an arm under his legs as they wrap around my waist. He curls in against my chest, small in a way he’ll never admit, trembling in a way he will never let anyone see, except me.
Carrying him to the bedroom, he doesn’t let go. When I set him on the bed, he reaches for me instantly, fingers curling around my wrist tightly.
His voice is barely audible. “Don’t leave.”
I kneel in front of him, cup his cheek, and guide his face toward mine.
His eyes are glassy, lost.
“I won’t. I promise.” I move to sit beside him and pull him into my lap, holding him against my chest.
He rests his hand over my heart, and I keep my arms around him, letting him feel the weight of me.
After a long moment, he whispers my name. “Sol.”
“Yeah, dove.”
His voice trembles, and the words tear straight through me. “I don’t want to be a stray dog.”
The agony of his words slices through my ribs like a hot knife. I close my eyes and stare at the ceiling, tears hot in my eyes, and I swallow deep around the urge to hunt Ray and his father down and rip out their throats out.
The tears fall the, and I don’t try to stop them. “Oh, Jack.” The words choke out of me. “You never were their dog. You know why? Because you’re mine, Jack. Mine.” I cup his face again, my thumbs pressing gently into his skin, anchoring him to the present.
“Do you hear me, Jack? Let them try to break you. Let the whole world burn to ash. I will tear the world down brick by brick before I let anyone treat you as anything less than a King. You’re my dove. Always.”
I hear the second Jack’s breath catches, a fragile, desperate sound. His fingers twist into my shirt until his knuckles turn white. He doesn’t speak, but the way he collapses against me, pressing his forehead to my chest like I am the last solid thing left in his world, says everything.
I hold him until his body softens and the tension drains from his shoulders. His breathing settles into something close to sleep.
When he finally drifts off, I lower my mouth to his hair and whisper,
“No one is ever taking you from me. Ever. Sleep my little dove.”
* * *
Jack’s been asleep for a couple of hours, curled against me like he is trying to hide inside my chest. I don’t dare move. Every time he shifts, a soft sound left his throat, something fragile and exhausted.
The house is quiet when I hear the front door open.
Hale’s footsteps are slow. Heavy. Nothing like his usual bounding energy. I hear the backpack drop to the floor, then a sharp inhale like he was bracing himself.
I ease Jack off my chest and lay him gently on the bed. He doesn’t stir, and I step out into the hallway, my feet coming to an abrupt stop at what I see in front of me.
Hale stands there, shoulders hunched, eyes down. His cheek is swollen, a bruise already blooming a bright purple. Another sits on his jaw, and I can see his knuckles are scraped raw.
My stomach tightens at the sight.
“Hale,” I said quietly. “Come here.”
He flinches but walks toward me. He won’t meet my eyes, so I tilt his chin up with two fingers.
“How did you get these?”
He shrugged. “Got into a fight at school. Nothing major.”
Nothing major. The words were too casual, too rehearsed, and Hale doesn’t do casual. And he doesn’t do fights.
Before I could push further, Jack appears in the doorway behind me, hair messy from sleep, eyes still swollen from crying. He freezes when he sees Hale’s face.
“Who hit you?” Jack asked, voice low and sharp.
Hale looks away. “It’s fine.”
Jack steps closer, his gaze locked in on the bruises. I see the moment recognition hits him, hear the moment his breath catches, and his shoulders stiffen.
“Silas,” Jack whispered. “Those are from fists.”
I nodded. “I know.”
Hale’s jaw tightens. “I can hear you. And I said it’s fine.”
Jack moves in front of him, cupping Hale’s cheek gently. “You don’t get bruises like this from schoolyard scraps. Not these, and not this pattern.”
Hale swallows hard. His eyes dart between us, panic flickering.
“Hale,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “Talk to us.”
He shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”
Jack’s voice softens, but it still carries a tremor to it. “Hale, I know what these look like. I know what they feel like, and I know what kind of man throws punches like this.”
Hale’s breath hitches at his words.
Jack steps back, fear creeping into his expression. “Who hit you?” I can see his mind is going to a place where I hope he is wrong.
Hale hesitated. Too long.
“Hale,” I said again. “Tell us.”
He exhales shakily. “I’ve been training.”
Jack blinks, shock sits heavy on his face. “Training?”
“With this guy. He’s teaching me MMA. He said that what I used to have to do in the underground, he can make me better. He saw me outside of the cafe one day. Said I could become the best in the world.”
My chest tightens, and I rub at it. I look at Jack and his face is drained of colour.
“What does he look like?” Jack asks, his voice now barely above a whisper.
Hale look at the floor. “Tall. Dark hair. Black eyes. Shorter than you Silas, but a little taller than you, Jack. Wears a jacket. black.”
I hear the second that Jack’s breathing stops.. The silence in the hallway turning thick, suffocating, and suddenly freezing cold.
Hale finally looks up. “He said he could make me strong.” His eyes filling with tears, and I see the ten-year-old child he still is.
“Why do you have to be strong, Hale?” I ask.
“Because then I could…” his voice trails off, eyes dropping to the floor.
“Hale” I crouch down in front of him. “Tell me why you need to become strong.”
Hale lifts his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. “To protect Jack. Cos then he won’t get beaten up again.”
Jack staggers back a step, a hand flying to his mouth, eyes wide with terror. “Hale,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “You don’t…”
He looks from Hale to me. “Silas,” his voice is small, cracked and raw. “It’s Ray.”
Hale frowns. “Ray?”
Jack’s voice cracks. “My uncle.”
Hale freezes, his face draining white. He knows who Ray is, and what he did to Jack.
I feel something cold and violent settle in my chest. Ray had found a way into our home—he threatened to go after Hale, and my absolute nightmare just became a reality.
He had found Hale. He had touched him, was training him.
“He’s using him.” Jack’s breathing turns shallow, his hands shaking. “He’s using Hale to get to me.”
Hale’s eyes widen. “Jack, I didn’t know. I swear.”
Jack grabs Hale’s shoulders, desperate. “You need to stop. You need to stay away from him. Please. Hale, please,” he begs.
I pull Jack away gently, holding him tight against my chest.
Hale’s voice trembles. “Jax, I didn’t know he was your uncle.”
Jack’s tears spill over. “He’s not my uncle. He’s a monster. Stay away from him, Hale, promise me.”
I step forward, placing a firm hand on Hale’s back.
“We’re going to fix this,” I say. “Hale, stay away from him. But until this ends, you don’t go anywhere without either Jack or me, understand? And I promise you, Ray isn’t getting near either of you again.”
I look squarely at Hale. “Promise me. Stay away from him. No more training.”
“I promise.”
Jack leans into me, shaking. Hale looks between us, guilt and fear twisting his expression.
I pull them both in then, wrapping an arm around them, holding them tight.
“No more secrets,” I say. “Not now. Not with him involved.”
Jack nods against my chest. Hale swallows hard and whispers, “Okay.”
And for the first time since meeting him in that cafe, I realise that this isn’t just about me anymore.
Ray thinks this is a battle.
I’m about to give him a fucking war.
And he had picked the wrong family.