66. Silas
CHAPTER SIXTY SIX
T he wipers screeched uselessly across the windshield, barely keeping up with the rain. Water hit the pavement in thick, heavy sheets, blurring the road, the headlights slicing through the storm in fractured sheets.
I didn’t slow down.
The GPS beeped, the glow of the screen registering somewhere in my periphery, but I wasn’t looking. My mind was a storm of anger, betrayal, confusion—all crashing into each other, all too loud.
A groan sounded from the back seat. A weak, pained little noise, like a cockroach still twitching under a boot.
“Shut the fuck up!” The snarl ripped from my throat.
Why the hell was he still breathing? Why the hell was he still here, still alive, taking up space in this car, still polluting the air with his pathetic existence?
After everything he did to her.
After all the hunting, the tracking, the nights lost.
She should’ve let him drown. Should’ve let the sea take him, let the saltwater fill his lungs until there was nothing left but silence.
He should’ve been shark food.
He deserved to die.
And Lilith stopped it.
My grip on the wheel tightened, tyres skidding slightly as I took a turn too fast.
Lilith’s voice cut through my fury. “Silas, slow down!”
I didn’t.
“Silas!” she snapped, louder now, panic edging her voice. “Slow the fuck down!”
I clenched my teeth and hit the accelerator harder.
He should’ve been dead. He should’ve been dead. He should’ve been dead.
“WOULD YOU SLOW DOWN?!”
I slammed the brakes .
The tyres screeched, the car jerked violently to the side, the force slamming us forward against our seatbelts.
My breath came out in heavy, ragged pulls, heart pounding so damn loud it was all I could hear.
I turned to her, hands still locked around the wheel, my entire body trembling with adrenaline and rage.
“What the fuck, Lilith?” My voice shot out, sharp and loud. “What the fuck was that? I don’t understand—I don’t—”
She flinched, just a little. Barely even moved. But it was enough to make something twist in my chest. Still, before I could think too hard about it, she straightened herself up, like she was physically pushing my words off her shoulders. Her mouth opened—
“Actually,” I cut in. “I don’t wanna fucking hear it.”
She froze. Her breath shook as she let it out, slow and controlled.
“Okay,” she said quietly.
“Okay?” I barked out a laugh. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”
“You just said you didn’t wanna hear it!”
“Oh my God,” I muttered, raking a hand over my jaw, fingers digging into my skin hard enough to sting.
“This is so stupid,” I hissed, the words slipping out in sharp, bitter Italian.
“Così dannatamente stupido. Dio, che cazzo stiamo facendo?!” The frustration poured out in broken, angry bursts.
“Avremmo dovuto lasciarlo morire lì. Come uno stronzo marcio. Affogato e dimenticato.” My pulse slammed against my skull.
My breath came out in short, harsh bursts, my chest tight with rage.
“Lui se lo merita!” I spat. “Dopo tutto quello che ha fatto.”
“Oh, you wanna do this in Italian now?” Her voice rose, shaky but furious. “Fine.”
She jabbed a finger toward me. “Stronzo!” Asshole.
I scoffed. “Yeah? Real creative.”
“Testa di cazzo!” Dickhead.
“Gesù Cristo—”
“Vaffanculo!” Fuck you.
“Lilith—”
“Coglione!” Dumbass .
“Really? That’s the best you’ve got?”
“Cazzo, sei un coglione senza cervello!” Fuck, you’re a brainless moron!
She was butchering every damn syllable that Finn had taught her, but it didn’t matter. She was pissed when she had no damn right to be.
“Oh, I’m the moron?” I shot back. “I’m the one who didn’t run back into a sinking yacht!”
“I saved his life!”
“He doesn’t deserve a life!”
The words ripped out of me, guttural and vicious. My voice cracked around the weight of all the rage, the frustration, the pure helplessness coiling so tightly inside me I thought I might explode.
Lilith’s chest heaved, her eyes boring into me, burning with something wild.
“You think I’m wrong for wanting him dead?” My voice shook. “After everything? After what he did to you?”
She didn’t answer. Just sat there, shoulders rising and falling, eyes locked on mine like she was daring me to say one more goddamn word.
A strained, wet groan sounded from the back seat.
Venom spiked in my blood.
I reached back and smacked him. Hard. His head lolled to the side, his split lip oozing fresh blood.
“What did you do, Lilith?” I shouted, voice ragged. “You think this—” I stabbed a finger toward the back seat, “—piece of shit deserves to be breathing right now?”
“Yeah, keep shouting, genius,” she snapped back, her voice scathing. “Because yelling’s definitely gonna fix everything right now.”
A sharp, humourless grin split her face, and something in me snapped.
“Oh, you’re fucking loving this, huh?” I barked out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re just thrilled you get to play the saint—”
“No,” she cut in coldly. “I’m loving that you’re actually giving me the chance to explain a single damn thing.”
I clenched the wheel so hard my knuckles cracked. “Fine. Explain. Go ahead. Enlighten me on why saving him was such a brilliant idea.”
“I’m not explaining shit when all you’re doing is screaming at me.” She crossed her arms, breathing hard. “Take him to the damn hospital.”
“The fuck I will,” I shot her a look, blood still pounding in my ears. “Speak. Now, Lilith.”
Her gaze locked with mine, wide and wild. “Dead people can’t suffer, Silas.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” My voice shot up, louder than I meant it to.
“Nah,” she bit back, shaking her head. “Excuse me for repeating myself. But I’m not doing this when you’re shouting.” Her arms tightened around herself like she was holding her ribs together. “Just drive. Now.”
My pulse surged, panic twisting in my chest. The storm outside raged on, rain streaking down the windshield in frantic sheets. The air in the car was heavy, thick with tension and sweat, and the lingering stench of blood and saltwater.
I gritted my teeth, forcing a breath through my nose. “He’ll tell the cops we did it.”
“No.” She shook her head, firm. “He won’t.”
“Oh yeah?” I snapped. “How do you know that?”
She didn’t answer me. Instead, she twisted in her seat, reached into the back, and grabbed Clark by the scruff of his shirt.
“Hey, asshole,” she said sweetly. “You gonna tell anyone this was us?”
Clark made a wet, pitiful noise. Not a word. Not even a full breath. Just a noise.
She sighed, slow and sharp, like she was forcing herself to stay calm. Then she leaned further back and dragged him up until his swollen face was inches from hers.
“You tell anyone this was us,” she murmured, “and I will end you. For real this time.”
He let out a pathetic wheeze, barely able to move his jaw.
She shook him slightly, enough to rattle his busted head. “Do you understand me?”
His head wobbled like a broken puppet. Another sick, garbled noise dribbled out of his mouth.
Her fingers tightened, knuckles white. “I said, do you understand me?!”
His eyes shot wide, terrified, bloodshot, and glassy. His split lip quivered, and finally— “Y-yeah.” It was barely a whisper, barely even a sound, but it was there.
Lilith stared at him for a second longer, her face blank—too blank—before she shoved him back against the seat.
“There we go,” she muttered, turning back around.
Thirty minutes later, the car skidded to a stop outside the hospital. The red neon ‘ EMERGENCY ’ sign hung overhead.
“I’m dumping him.”
Lilith’s head snapped toward me. “No, you’re not. We can’t just leave him here like roadkill.”
My grip on the wheel tightened, every muscle in my body coiled, barely held together by sheer will.
I wanted to leave him there like the garbage he was.
But I adjusted my scarf back over the lower half of my face, pulled my hood to shield the upper, and stepped out of the car, rounding to grab Clark from the back.
“Stop,” she called as she opened her own door.
“No. Wait in the car, Lilith.”
I bent down and picked him up, cradling his broken body in my arms with a grimace. Without a second thought, I kicked the car door shut behind me and strode into the hospital.
The doors slid open with a sharp hiss, the fluorescent lights above buzzing like angry wasps.
The antiseptic smell burned my nose through the fabric, too sharp, too clean.
The waiting room was mostly empty—a receptionist scrolling through her computer, a nurse flipping through a clipboard, a guy slumped in a chair, cradling his bandaged hand.
Their heads snapped up the second they heard me.
Showtime .
I staggered for ward, adjusting my grip, letting my eyes tighten with just enough urgency. “I—I found him outside,” I said, voice rough, like I was some concerned citizen who’d stumbled upon this poor bastard bleeding out in the rain.
The nurse gasped, already moving while the receptionist fumbled for the phone.
I knelt slightly, lowering Clark into a waiting chair where he slumped forward, drool and blood spilling onto his already destroyed shirt.
“Do you know what happened?” The nurse asked, wide-eyed, already pressing gloved hands to his neck, checking for vitals.
I shook my head. “No.”
Liar.
“He was like this when I found him.”
Liar.
I didn’t wait for the follow-up questions. Didn’t give them time to scrutinise me, just turned on my heel and walked out without looking back.
I slid into the car, shutting the door with a quiet click. Lilith was already watching me, searching—for relief, for answers, for something I couldn’t give her.
All I could do was grip the wheel, clench my teeth, and hit the gas.
I knew exactly where I was going.