9. Silas
CHAPTER NINE
N o scarf tonight. That would’ve been weird, even for me. Instead, I sat in the shadows, my collar turned up, glass of water in hand, back pressed to the cool leather of a private booth.
I hadn’t planned on being there. But life had other plans.
First—the doorbell notification.
Then—Molly’s Instagram story.
The second I’d seen Lilith’s wrist visible in the corner of the frame, dark ink spilling across soft skin, neon light catching in her hair, I’d thrown those plans out the window and driven straight across the city.
I wasn’t there to talk to her. Just to keep an eye out. Clubs were breeding grounds for creeps. I’d seen it happen too many times in the past—drinks spiked in the blink of an eye, hands slipping too low, smiles turning to snarls the second a woman said no.
That wasn’t happening to her.
And Clark? After leaving him in his own blood and piss over a week ago, he’d kept his distance.
He hadn’t gone near her house again—not that I’d seen through the doorbell feed anyway.
And from what I could tell from my drive-bys and stints parked across the street from the store, he hadn’t shown up there either.
Good.
But men like him? They were slow learners. Fear faded. Pain healed. And they’d start thinking they were invincible again.
So I wasn’t taking my eyes off her. Not yet. That’s why I was watching. For precautionary purposes. That was all.
I lifted my glass, taking a slow sip as my gaze locked onto her.
She was tipping back shots like she was drinking water.
Her clothes were painted onto her body in a way that made my brain glitch.
Bare shoulders, delicate straps, little constellations across her collarbones.
And her hair spilled over her shoulders like an invitation to glide my hands through the strands of silk.
Not that I had any right to be thinking about that.
Molly turned, disappearing into the crush of bodies, leaving her alone at the bar. The group of people they were with had already disappeared, and I knew Molly wasn’t the type to leave her best friend stranded. So where the hell had she gone?
Then, she reappeared, dragging a guy behind her. Tall, brown-haired, a smirk on his face that implied he was the kind of guy who would call Lilith ‘babe’ before he even knew her name.
I didn’t like him.
Lilith turned toward him, lips parting slightly as she tilted her head, and smiled. Not polite. Not tight. A real, genuine smile.
My fingers flexed around the glass, stomach twisting, something dark curling at the edges of my chest.
No.
Then, just when I thought—when I hoped —she’d shake him off, give him some kind of signal that she wasn’t interested, she did the exact opposite.
She reached for him, grabbed his wrist, and led him onto the dance floor.
I should’ve looked away, should’ve walked my imposing ass out of there. But I didn’t. I just sat there, teeth clenched, watching as she moved against him, rolling her hips, giving him exactly what he wanted. His hands roamed over her waist, down her thighs, back up to the perfect curve of her ass.
My vision blurred at the edges.
What would it feel like if her body pressed into mine instead, soft curves fitting like she belonged there. The warmth of her, the way her thighs would tremble under my hands if I gripped her just right. The way her ass would grind into me, teasing, testing, feeling just how hard she could make—
Fuck, Silas. No. Stop.
I wasn’t some desperate asshole, sitting in the dark, watching a woman who didn’t even know he existed, imagining how she’d feel grinding against him.
That wasn’t why I was here. That wasn’t who I was.
She nodded at something he said, and their fingers laced together.
My grip on the glass nearly cracked it in half.
I hated that. More than the dancing, more than the touching. That. The simplicity in it. The casual ease of her hand in his, the familiarity, the way she let him lead her off the dance floor, through the shifting bodies, straight to the bar.
I knew the move. The setup. The slow lead-in. I’d seen it a hundred times before. Hell, I’d done it myself. Not anymore, not in years, but I still knew the game .
Every second I sat there, watching his hands on her, watching her smile at him, letting him get closer and closer, it was a slow, drawn-out punch to the ribs.
And I didn’t know why. Didn’t know why I was having to swallow down the burn that was creeping through my chest, didn’t know why I was a hair’s breadth away from trembling with rage.
That was enough.
I wasn’t staying.
This wasn’t my business.
She could look after herself, she was a grown woman.
I’d done my part making sure Clark would stay away.
She was fine.
I shifted, ready to shove my hands in my pockets and disappear into the night, already bracing for the cold air outside.
But then he dropped into an empty barstool and pulled her onto his lap. Every muscle and tendon locked up, every thought screeching to a halt as my vision zeroed in.
No. Walk away.
His thumb brushed over her jaw, slow and deliberate, and I could see it happening before it even did.
Walk. Away.
I was stuck, rooted to the floor like some masochistic idiot, lungs locked tight as his hands roamed her body, lips pressing against hers in a messy kiss.
She wasn’t pulling away.
Something ugly clawed its way up my throat, something raw, something that ripped through every nerve ending like fire, something that made my vision flood with crimson.
I was moving before I even realised it, tearing through the crowd, shoving past bodies, not giving a single fuck who I knocked into.
The air was thick with sweat and fog, neon lights strobing, flashes of colour igniting against my skin in violent pulses.
The pounding bass throbbed through my bones, but I didn’t hear it.
I didn’t hear anything. Just the sharp, rhythmic crunch of my own breath, and the blood roaring in my ears.
I was there. Right there. A second away from ripping him off her. A second away from wrapping my hand around his throat and making sure he understood exactly why he should never touch her again.
“OH MY GOD.”
The voice cut through the music like a damn air horn.
I froze .
The back of my neck prickled, every muscle seizing like I’d been hit with a stun gun. The heat of my momentary rage fizzled out, replaced by something colder, pure, unfiltered—
Shit.
I’d been caught. Not just caught. Caught caught.
Mid-stride, mid-glare, probably mid-punch. And to make it worse, they didn’t even know me. From their perspective, I was just some random guy storming over like an unhinged cryptid emerging from the shadows.
I turned slowly, already bracing for whatever mess I’d just caused, expecting to see a bouncer looking at me like I’d lost my mind.
But no. Molly. Of course it was Molly.
She wasn’t even looking at me. She was looking straight at the kiss that was happening right in front of her. She made a beeline straight for Lilith, completely oblivious to whatever the hell had almost happened.
I manoeuvred myself and leaned against the bar, right behind them. So close that if I reached out, just a fraction, I could touch her. I could wrap a hand around her waist, pull her up off this asshole’s lap, and just… take her home.
Make sure she was safe, tucked up in bed, far away from some creep with grabby hands and way too much cologne.
But I stayed put. Teeth clenched. Chest tight as I tuned into their conversation. Because again, I was clearly some masochistic idiot.
“You wanna get out of here?”
Not happening.
I was up in a heartbeat.
I had no plan. No excuse. No idea what the endgame was. But I followed anyway.
They were already halfway to the exit, laughter weaving between the group, whilst the asshole lingered back, fishing through his pockets. “Gonna hit the bathroom first.”
I bit back a smirk. Now was my chance.
I lingered back enough to avoid suspicion as I followed him to the restroom, fists itching.
No plan. Just an opportunity.
He pushed through the door, completely unaware, already raising the phone to his ear as he leaned against the sinks. I moved to the urinal, stood there, pretended to piss.
“No, babe, I’m gonna stay at Jake’s tonight.”
Oh?
“I love you too, Laura. Yeah, I promise I’ll be home in the morning.”
What the fuck?
I zipped up and turned, snatching the phone clean from his grip before he even had the chance to clock me .
“Hey! What the hell, man?”
He lunged, but I was already stepping back, already bringing the phone to my ear. “Laura, right?”
A small, startled silence, then— “Yeah? Who’s this?”
He shoved at me, scrambling, but I lifted an arm and palmed his chest, shoving him back hard enough that he nearly fell into a stall.
“This guy is your boyfriend, right?”
A pause. “Husband.”
Husband? Even better.
I glanced down, eyes homing in on his left hand. Bare.
“Well,” I said. “He’s not wearing his ring.”
“Give me my phone, man.”
I ignored him. “Matter of fact, he’s had another woman on his lap all night.”
A flare of something hot and wrong sparked in my chest the second the words left my mouth. Like she was just some random, meaningless girl he’d picked up at the bar, some stranger. She wasn’t. She wasn’t just another woman. She was Lilith.
“He’s coming home tonight,” I continued. “And you’re going to have his bags packed and waiting for him on the doorstep. Okay?”
“Uh… yeah. Okay,” she said shakily.
“I’m sorry.” The screen went dark as I hung up.
She didn’t deserve that. She hadn’t been the one out here lying, sneaking around, putting her hands all over Lilith like she was some disposable thing.
But she was the one paying for it now. Because now she had to pick up the pieces of his mess. Had to sit in that house, alone, realising the man she’d trusted enough to marry had been throwing it all away in some backlit nightclub. What if she wasn’t even alone? What if they had children? A family?
“You’ve just ruined my life,” he choked out.
I let out a slow breath, tossing the phone onto the sinks beside him. It clattered against the marble, the screen lighting up again with her name.
“No,” I said, tilting my head slightly. “You did that all by yourself, you piece of shit.”
Then I turned, shouldering the door open, leaving him standing there, phone buzzing, life crumbling.
They stood near the curb, Molly glued to her phone while Lilith stood slightly behind her, arms crossed, the neon glow of the club’s sign washing her skin in blue, catching on the stray strands of her dark hair as she shifted.
Exhaling slowly, I dragged a hand through my hair, backing into the shadows of a side street, watching as the Uber pulled up. Molly climbed in first, Lilith following close behind, tucking herself into the seat without a second glance toward the club .
The guy was handled, she was safe, and yet I was still here, pulse too fast, hands flexing at my sides like I was waiting for something.
For what? For her to look back? For some excuse to stay tangled in something I had no business touching?
I should’ve felt better. Relieved. Instead, my chest was too tight, head spinning with the irrational anger from watching Lilith with someone else. The frustration of knowing none of this made sense.
I didn’t do this. I didn’t get jealous. I didn’t get involved. This wasn’t me.
And yet, here I was, standing alone in the dark, watching the car disappear, wondering what the hell was happening to me.
This was going too far.
I had rules. Boundaries. I kept my distance. Always.
But I wasn’t just toeing the line anymore—I was obliterating it.
My walls were there for a reason. To make sure no one got hurt. And yet, no matter how many times I told myself to back off, to stop, I kept making excuses. Kept finding ways to justify it.
It had to end. One final thing. Just one last thing to make sure she could keep herself safe without my help.
And then I’d leave her alone. For good.