18. Silas
EIGHTEEN
SILAS
S ilas leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, the tension in the chamber settling thick over his skin like summer humidity before a storm.
The war table between them—repurposed steel welded to raw oak—looked brutal, practical, like everything this court had to become in the wake of Roman’s fall.
The surface was scarred from years of use, corners blackened from old burns, maps pinned across the far wall with color-coded marks bleeding into one another.
Everything here screamed survival, not ceremony.
It’d only been three days since the Silent Sons ambush, three days since he and Ava had let their walls down and been together.
She’d been quiet since, lingering near Sonya but never quite at ease.
Silas had barely seen her afterwards due to debriefings with Caz, trail sweeps and recon reports.
He’d had no time for sleep, let alone reckoning with what it meant to have kissed her like she was oxygen. Like she’d been his for years.
And now, the Red Pack was in the room. Just when things were already circling the drain.
The Red Pack weren’t loyalists. They weren’t rebels.
They were something in between, a sort of self-governed, insular, and deadly.
Known for their spy networks, quiet blades, and a brutal code of neutrality that had, until now, kept them safe and uninvolved.
If they were here, it meant something had cracked in the foundation of their detachment.
Lirien, their alpha, sat across from Landon at the far end of the table.
She looked like winter embodied with her long silver-gray hair coiled behind her shoulders, sharp cheekbones, and eyes like frozen stone.
She was known for sending her enemies back in pieces, but only if she thought it was worth the trouble.
Flanking her were three lieutenants, two men and one woman, all lean and coiled like live wire, red leather layered over armor with a subtle insignia stitched into the collar: a single blood drop caught in the curl of a wolf fang.
They said nothing as they entered—no nods, no greetings—just stared down those assembled with cold calculation.
Sonya sat to Landon’s right, her hand resting protectively over her belly, though her posture gave nothing away.
The queen held herself like a blade sheathed, calm and resolute.
Her ice-blue eyes tracked every shift, every word.
Caz lounged at Landon’s left, boots crossed and expression unreadable, though the tic in his jaw said he was already over the theatrics.
And then there was Ava.
She stood in the back of the room, just inside the doorway, like a shadow that refused to blend in. Her jacket hung loosely over her frame, her braid messy and frayed at the edges. That scar under her right eye caught the light each time she shifted her weight. Human, yes but far from fragile.
Lirien’s gaze cut toward her like a blade. “That her?” Her voice held no warmth, just cool curiosity and something sharper. “The human?”
Ava didn’t flinch. Silas, behind his own chair, felt the ripple of satisfaction at that. She wasn’t going to play weak for anyone.
“She’s the one,” Landon said without missing a beat. “Ava Monroe. Fought during the Sons’ breach last week. Saved one of our youngest. She’s earned her place.”
Lirien’s lip curled, just barely. “Brave. Doesn’t make her one of us.”
“She’s not trying to be,” Silas said, voice gravel-worn. “She’s not here pretending to be a wolf.”
A hush stretched across the room. Even Caz looked up from under his lashes. Silas hadn’t meant to speak, but damn it, he couldn’t bite his tongue while they dressed Ava down like she hadn’t bled for them.
Lirien turned her eyes on him. “No blood bond. No scent loyalty. She’s not Pack. And in this war, we don’t gamble on outsiders.”
Silas stepped out from behind the chair, shoulders squared. “She’s not an outsider to me.”
“That’s not a reassurance,” one of Lirien’s lieutenants bit out. He was young, twenty, maybe with an angular face, lines tattooed down his neck like tally marks. “You were Roman’s weapon. You defected, sure. But late. Who’s to say your judgment isn’t still warped?”
Silas didn’t blink. “Because I’ve fought against everything I once followed. And because I bleed for this court now.” He looked directly at Landon, then Sonya, then back to Lirien. “And Ava was beside me when the Sons tore through our line. She didn’t run.”
Lirien’s gaze flicked to Ava again, assessing. “She’s human.”
“She’s more loyal than half the wolves in this room,” Silas growled.
That stirred the room. A few murmurs rippled from the guards near the chamber door.
“She’s unmarked,” the female Red lieutenant said, stepping forward. “No claim. No oath. You ask us to trust her, but she hasn’t pledged to anything.”
“She saved a child,” Sonya said softly. “Without hesitation.”
“That makes her a medic,” Lirien said coolly. “Not a soldier.”
“She’s both,” Silas replied. “And I stake my standing on it.”
Lirien narrowed her eyes. “You’d risk your status for a human?”
“Without hesitation.”
The room dropped into silence again.
Caz gave a low whistle under his breath. “Well, shit.”
Sonya didn’t speak, but the edge of her mouth lifted like she understood exactly what Silas had just put on the line.
Landon sat back, fingers steepled. “You came here for answers. For alliance. You want us to prove we’re ready to lead this fight?
That includes every soldier on our side—human or not.
And for the record, she’s in this fight because the Son’s also are hitting human convoys as well, not just us.
And Gideion’s Torch targeted her due to her helping one of our own. ”
Lirien’s expression didn’t change. Her distrust lingered, clear in the way her eyes flicked back to Ava every few seconds like she expected her to suddenly sprout fangs or a dagger. But she didn’t argue again. She just leaned back, silent, letting the moment stretch.
Eventually, the meeting moved on. Tactics, territory. Patrol rotations and supply lines. But every now and then, Silas saw Lirien glance back at Ava with that same measured suspicion. Like she was waiting for her to make a mistake.
Ava never met her gaze. But she didn’t back down, either.
She stayed. Storm-eyed and silent, watching. Listening.
When the meeting finally ended, Lirien’s final words echoed like frost in the room.
“Then let’s hope she doesn’t get you killed.”
He lingered behind as the council chamber emptied, Landon still at the table. The alpha king looked up as Silas approached.
“You sure about her?” Landon asked.
Silas didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”
Landon snorted. “Good. Because I can smell it, you know.”
Silas frowned. “Smell what?”
“You’re mated, you idiot.”
Silas blinked. “That’s not?—”
“Oh, it is,” Landon said, cutting him off with a wave of his hand. “You’ve been circling each other like two damn ghosts since you got here. I figured it out the second she stepped into the war room and your whole aura went predator-level still.”
Silas ground his jaw. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not like I marked her. She’s human. I’ve got too much history. I shouldn’t?—”
Landon leaned forward. “She didn’t flinch when Red Pack circled her like prey. Hell, she probably would’ve stabbed one of them with a scalpel if you hadn’t said something.”
Silas didn’t smile, but the image didn’t seem too far off.
“She’s yours,” Landon added. “You just haven’t stopped punishing yourself long enough to accept it.”
Silas stayed quiet.
Landon stood, clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t screw it up. She’s tougher than you. Probably smarter too.”
Silas gave a humorless huff and turned for the door.
He found Ava out in the lower courtyard, leaning against the edge of the old fountain.
She didn’t turn as he approached.
“I didn’t need you to defend me,” she said.
“I know.”
“But you did anyway.”
“I would again.”
“They hate me.”
“No. They fear what they don’t understand. There’s a difference.”
Ava finally looked at him. “And you? You understand me?”
“No,” he said honestly. “But I’m trying.”
Something in her face shifted. The steel in her posture softened. “You’re gonna have to do more than try.”
“I know.”
He moved to stand beside her. But before they could speak, before the other night where they shared more than kisses could be brought up, Lirien came up to them with her lieutenants.
“I’d like to talk to the human, alone.”