Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Anthea
Silas took a bullet to the chest, blood soaking his white shirt in seconds. But he didn't go down. He pushed through, turning toward Tomaso, gun aimed at the old bastard still sprawled on the ground.
The shot rang out, the bullet hitting Tomaso square in the heart. The old guy's eyes bulged, his crazy grin frozen. His hand dropped limp, the small pistol slipping from his fingers.
"Silas!" I rushed over with Olei, dropping to my knees beside him.
Blood poured from his left chest, the red stain spreading fast across the white fabric.
"Let me see." I set Olei aside, hands shaking as I fumbled with his shirt buttons.
Silas grabbed my wrist, voice weak but steady. "Don't worry, it missed the vital spots."
"But you're bleeding so much..." My voice trembled.
"I've been shot before. I know what a kill shot feels like." He forced a reassuring smile. "This is nothing."
"What if something goes wrong?" My vision blurred, tears welling up. "You're not a doctor—how can you be sure?"
He didn't answer, lifting his hand to touch my cheek. But it fell halfway, his eyelids growing heavy. Panic hit me. I pressed down on the wound to stem the blood. More seeped through my fingers, warm and sticky.
"Daddy? Daddy, what's wrong?" Olei's little face went pale with fear.
"I'm fine..." Silas managed, his eyelids fluttering shut.
"No, don't sleep!" Tears spilled down my cheeks. "Silas, look at me—keep your eyes open!"
But he was gone, no response. Pain ripped through me, stealing my breath. No, he couldn't be. He'd said it missed the vitals, said it was nothing. Footsteps pounded from the doorway. I looked up—men in black gear stormed in, led by Silas's right-hand man, Marcus. I'd seen him before.
"Ma'am!" Marcus charged over in a few strides.
His face twisted at Silas's wound. He barked orders. Guys lifted Silas onto a stretcher and loaded him into a car. Others handled Tomaso's body and dragged Vanessa from the corner where she was tied up.
I climbed in with Olei, watching Marcus apply emergency first aid in the back.
"Pakhan will be okay." Marcus pulled out a med kit, working fast on the wound. "We'll get him to the hospital quick."
Silas's lips were colorless. If not for the faint rise of his chest, I'd have thought he was— I just hugged Olei tight. Thirty minutes later, we hit the hospital. Medics in white rushed Silas into the ER. Only then did I breathe a little easier.
Late night, the hospital corridor stayed quiet, reeking of disinfectant. I sat on the bench outside the OR, staring at the glowing red light.
I'd sent Olei off with Marcus to grab food—he had to be starving. Now it was just me and Julian. He stood there, silent.
"Anthea," he finally said, like he'd been chewing on it forever. "I'm sorry."
I looked at him, waiting.
"I helped Vanessa, got you and Olei kidnapped, left Silas fighting for his life." He stared at the floor, avoiding my eyes. "I know sorry doesn't cut it, but I have to say it. When Silas wakes, I'll apologize to him too."
I stayed quiet for a bit. Was I furious? Hell yes. If Julian hadn't sold us out, we'd never have ended up in Vanessa and Tomaso's hands. Silas wouldn't have taken that bullet for me.
But I remembered how he'd helped before—figuring out custody fights, listening when I needed to vent. He wasn't all bad.
"Good thing you didn't stick with them in the end," I said.
Julian froze, then exhaled long and hard. He looked up and sat beside me.
"I lost," he said, voice rough.
I turned to him.
"When that bullet came flying, I was closer to you than Silas. I wanted to jump in, protect you. But instinct kicked in—I froze, legs nailed to the spot." He paused. "Silas was farther away, but he didn't hesitate. He just lunged."
I didn't speak, but something stirred inside me.
"That moment, I knew—his gut reaction is to shield you." Julian met my eyes. "He really loves you, Anthea."
His words hit, my chest tightening with ache.
"I already knew," I whispered.
From the amusement park, when I learned he'd gone gray at the temples for me, worn my ashes around his neck, even thought about ending it all to join me—I knew. He loved me, in his twisted, obsessive way. The hurt was real, but so was the love.
Julian blinked, then gave a bitter laugh. "Yeah, you did. I was the one fooling myself, thinking I could make you happy."
I didn't reply. Silence stretched between us. The ER light stayed red—who knew how long?
My heart twisted, every second agony.
"Mommy!" Olei's voice echoed down the hall.
I turned—Marcus led him over. He yanked free and bolted into my arms.
"I wanna stay with you, Mommy," he said, looking up worried. "You might be scared alone."
"Mommy's not scared." I hugged him tighter. "With you here, I'm not afraid of anything."
The OR door swung open. A doctor in scrubs stepped out, pulling off his mask, nodding at me.
"Surgery went well," he said. "Bullet's out—no damage to major organs. He's still out, but he's strong. He'll recover fast."
Relief crashed over me.
"Thank you, doctor." My voice shook.
Olei heard, eyes lighting up. "Daddy's okay?"
"He's okay." I ruffled his hair. "He'll be good as new soon."
Julian stood, flashing his first smile of the night. "He's fine. That's great. I'll head out—visit when he's awake."
I nodded, watching him vanish down the hall. Suddenly, I felt lighter. Some things, some people, just needed an end.
Nurses wheeled Silas into a room. I followed with Olei.
"He needs rest," the nurse said. "You can stay, but keep it quiet."
I nodded, thanked her, and sat by the bed with Olei.
The room stayed hushed, machines beeping steady. I held Silas's hand. His fingers were cold—I tried warming them with mine.
Olei leaned on the bed's edge, head against my arm, watching for Daddy to wake. But he conked out soon. Kid had been through hell and never whined about being scared. I scooped him onto the cot, kissed his forehead.
Back at the bed, I studied Silas's pale face. First time I saw him, he stood by the old Pakhan—cold, commanding, radiating a don't-come-near vibe. I feared him, but he drew me in.
Hours passed. Night faded outside, skyline turning gray, then soft gold spilling in. The city woke, my eyelids drooping.
Silas stayed stable all night—I eased up. In a haze, I felt fingers in my hair. I snapped awake. Silas was up, eyes soft, my face reflected in his pupils.
"You're awake!" My voice came out louder than I meant.
"Been up a minute." His voice rasped, but stronger.
I stared, making sure he was real, then glared. "You know you scared the shit out of me last night?"
He reached out, brushing my cheek.
"I'm sorry I worried you, Anthea. And sorry for everything I did to hurt you." He spoke slow, weighing each word. "Sorry for six years ago—treating you like a tool, falling for you but picking ambition and that marriage. Sorry I wasn't there when you had Olei, left you alone as they took him."
I watched his eyes redden, tears coming for me too. His voice stayed hoarse, but he kept going.
"Sorry for the cameras in your apartment after we reunited, messing with you while you slept. For locking you up, nearly..." He choked.
My tears poured harder.
"You were a real bastard," I snapped. "I even thought about ditching you for good."
He wiped my tears, lips twisting bitter. "I regret it all—everything since you came back. I swore no one would hurt you again, but I did it myself."
"I hated you. Really hated you." I said. "When you caged me, I wanted to kill you. Your touch made me sick."
The memories still stung.
His body tensed, hand squeezing mine.
"But you let me go. You learned real letting go, not control." I paused. "That made me believe we could have a future."
He froze, like he couldn't believe it. "What? You're willing to give us a shot?"
I sniffled, lips curving up.
"I'm giving you one more chance, Mr. Thorne." I held his gaze.
"Thank you, Anthea." His lips trembled, voice deep and sincere. "I swear, no more forcing you. I'll learn to respect you, love you right. I love you, Anthea."
"I love you too, Silas," I said softly.
His eyes glistened—first time I'd seen him cry. He pulled me into a fierce hug.
"You're crazy," I tried pushing back. "Your wound'll tear."
"Let it." His voice muffled in my shoulder. "Anthea, I love you. Never loved anyone else, just you. Thought I'd lost you forever, thought I'd never hear you say it."
Tears hit me too. I wrapped my arms around his neck.
"Don't make me regret it," I said.
"I won't." He tightened his hold. "This time, no regrets."
On the cot, Olei stirred, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. He saw us hugging.
"Did Mommy and Daddy make up?" he asked, thrilled.
We turned to him, then smiled at each other.
"Yeah, we did," Silas said with a grin.
Olei hopped down, ran over, and squeezed into our hug. Suddenly, the disinfectant smell didn't bother me.
The road had been brutal—misunderstandings, pain, terror of losing each other. But we made it.
A month later, Silas's wound healed completely.
To celebrate, we cooked a feast at home. Silas insisted on being the head chef.
He set the table romantic and cozy—tall candlesticks in the center, flames flickering softly. Fresh white lilies sat in a crystal vase, petals unfurling.
Dishes came out one by one. Seared foie gras, slow-roasted steak, post-dinner sweets. The aromas wrapped around us thick.
Olei sat beside me, face lit with anticipation. He ate quietly as usual, but kept sneaking glances at his dad, lips twitching up. Silas ignored him, eyes locked on me.
I felt off, gaze bouncing between them. Were these two up to something? But dinner passed without incident. I shrugged it off, savoring the meal. Every bite hit perfect—not too done, not too raw.
Dessert was caramel pudding, the top golden-crisp. Silas set mine down, gave Olei his. Instead of sitting, he dropped to one knee in front of me.
I froze—this I hadn't seen coming. My pulse raced.
He pulled a velvet box from his pocket and opened it. My brain blanked.
Inside, a ring. Platinum band, simple and elegant, topped with a teardrop amber diamond. It sparkled under the light, like it'd trapped a whole sunset.
God, it was stunning—like a work of art.
"Anthea Carter," Silas said, voice thick with emotion.
"Six years ago, I was an asshole. I hurt you, lost you.
Those years were my darkest. Months ago, fate gave me another shot.
You came back. I swear I'll cherish it, never let you suffer again.
I know I've got flaws. But I'll learn to be a good husband, good father. "
His eyes held mine, brimming with tenderness. My nose stung, eyes heating.
He took my hand. "Anthea, will you marry me?"
The candle flames flickered, like the air held its breath.
Sweetness and joy flooded my chest, heart pounding wild.
Olei couldn't hold back. He jumped from his chair, yelling, "Mommy, say yes! Say yes!"
I laughed through tears.
"I will, Silas," I said.
He slid the ring on my finger, trembling. It fit perfectly, like it belonged.
I rose on tiptoes, kissed him. He dove in, tongue tangling with mine. His kiss held pent-up hunger, fierce and tender. I gripped his shoulders, knees weak.
"Daddy and Mommy kissing!" Olei clapped hard. "Yay!"
We broke apart, breathless, my face burning. Olei barreled in, hugging our legs.
Moonlight poured through the window, wrapping us gently.