Chapter 9 #2
did the speed finally drop.
Silas shifted slightly, lifting just enough to look down at her.
Becca was still out.
Too still.
A thin line of blood traced from her temple, catching faint light as the vehicle passed under a streetlamp.
His jaw tightened.
His hand came up, slower now, more deliberate brushing lightly along her cheek, checking, grounding.
Breathing.
Still there.
Good.
“She wasn’t part of the list,” someone said from the front.
Silas didn’t answer right away.
His eyes stayed on her.
Assessing.
Calculating.
Something else—quieter, harder to name—flickering beneath the surface.
Then, finally—
“Doesn’t matter.”
Two words.
Final.
Controlled.
But carrying something heavier than the moment itself.
He adjusted her again, pulling her more securely against him, his arm firm around her like letting go wasn’t an option anymore.
“Keep driving.”
Outside, the city stretched into darkness, swallowing them whole as they disappeared deeper into it—
leaving fire behind…
leaving chaos behind…
leaving Christina
in the hands of it all.
The tires barely settled before the engine cut, but the silence that followed felt louder than the chase itself. Gravel snapped beneath the weight of the car, the echo swallowed by trees that stood too still, too deliberate—like even the land knew better than to expose this place.
“Gate sealed. We’re clear,” Jace said, already scanning the monitors mounted into the dash, his fingers moving fast, pulling feeds, checking angles. “No tails. I lost them two miles back.”
Silas didn’t answer.
He hadn’t taken his eyes off her once.
Becca lay across his lap, unmoving, her body slack in a way that didn’t sit right in his chest. Her head rolled slightly with the shift of the car stopping, her hair brushing against his wrist, her skin too cold under his touch.
There was blood—too much of it dried against her temple, streaked faintly along her jaw.
Wrong.
Everything about this was wrong.
“Silas—” Jace started.
The door was already open.
Cold air rushed in, but Silas didn’t feel it. He stepped out, lifting her in one controlled motion, his arms tightening around her like something inside him refused to risk even the smallest drop, the smallest shift. Her head fell against his chest, breath shallow but there.
Still there.
Still breathing.
“Inside. Now,” Jace called ahead.
The safe house door was already opening.
They’d been ready.
Two figures stood just beyond the threshold—a doctor and a nurse, both dressed in dark, unmarked scrubs, gloves already on, equipment laid out behind them like they’d been waiting for a storm to arrive.
Because they had.
“Set her down here,” the doctor said quickly, clearing space on the bed.
Silas didn’t move right away.
For half a second—just half—his grip tightened, like letting her go wasn’t an option his body understood.
“Silas,” Jace said, sharper this time.
That was the only thing that broke it.
He stepped forward and laid her down carefully, controlled, but there was nothing calm about the way he hovered immediately after, his hand still on her shoulder, like he needed to feel her there.
Alive.
“Head trauma,” the doctor said, already leaning in, fingers gentle but fast as he checked her pupils, her pulse. “Possible concussion. We need to assess for internal bleeding. How long was she out?”
“Too long,” Silas answered, voice low, tight.
The nurse moved to her wrists, her expression shifting as she saw the damage there. “Restraint injuries… she’s been fighting.”
“I know,” Silas snapped, the words sharper than intended—but he didn’t take them back.
Because he did know.
He could see it all over her.
The fight. The fear. The damage someone thought they had the right to leave on her.
Something dark coiled in his chest.
“BP’s low,” the nurse added. “We need fluids.”
“Do it,” Silas said immediately.
The room shifted into motion.
IV kit opened. Monitors placed. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled the air as they worked over her, voices low but urgent, controlled chaos unfolding inches away from him.
Silas didn’t move.
Didn’t step back.
Didn’t breathe right.
His eyes stayed locked on her face, on every small reaction, every flicker—waiting for something. Anything.
“Silas,” Jace said again, quieter now, stepping closer. “They’ve got her.”
No.
They didn’t.
Not like he did.
Silas didn’t even look at him. “Find out who was there.”
Jace held his gaze for a second, then nodded. “I’m on it.”
He stepped out, the door closing behind him, cutting the room down to silence except for the steady beeping of the monitor now hooked to her.
And Silas… still hadn’t moved.
The doctor glanced at him briefly. “We need space to work—”
“You have it,” Silas said, his voice calm in a way that didn’t match the storm sitting behind his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The doctor didn’t argue.
Didn’t dare.
So they worked around him.
Minutes stretched.
Too slow. Too quiet. Too still.
Silas’s gaze dropped to the bruising forming along her collarbone, the faint marks along her arms, the way her fingers twitched once—barely there—and then went still again.
His jaw tightened.
“Who touched her?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
No one answered.
But the question didn’t need one.
Because whoever it was…
They weren’t walking away from this.
—
Outside the room, Jace moved fast.
Screens lit up one after another as he pulled CCTV feeds from every angle, they had access to—street cams, traffic routes, warehouse perimeter scraps, anything that could be stitched together into a picture.
Faces.
Vehicles.
Movement.
“Zoom that,” he muttered, sending commands through his comms. “I want IDs. I want names. Everyone who stepped foot near that site.”
Static cracked back. “We’ve got partial visuals. Uploading now.”
Jace’s eyes narrowed as images filled the screen—blurry figures, armed silhouettes, one frame catching just enough of a face to make something click.
“Yeah…” he murmured, jaw tightening. “I see you.”
Another voice cut in. “Boss—there were casualties on their side. Explosion took out at least two. Others scattered.”
“Not enough,” Jace said coldly.
His fingers flew across the keys again. “Track vehicles leaving the area. I want routes, plates, everything.”
Inside, through the glass, he could still see Silas.
Unmoving.
Hovering.
Watching her like the world outside that room didn’t matter anymore.
Jace exhaled slowly.
Because that right there?
That was the problem.
—
Back inside, time felt like it was dragging its feet on purpose.
The IV line was set. The bleeding cleaned. Monitors steady—but Becca…
Still wasn’t waking up.
“Come on…” Silas muttered under his breath, his hand finally finding hers, rough fingers wrapping carefully around her smaller ones, mindful of the bruising there.
Nothing.
Not even a flicker.
Something in him snapped tighter.
“I swear to God,” he said quietly, his voice dropping into something colder, more dangerous, “if they took one more thing from you—”
He didn’t finish it.
Didn’t need to.
Because the promise sat heavy in the air anyway.
And it wasn’t empty.
Not even close.
Time didn’t move right inside that room.
It stretched, dragged, bent around the steady rhythm of the monitor like everything else had been stripped away. The only thing that mattered—the only thing Silas allowed to matter—was the rise and fall of Becca’s chest beneath his hand.
Too slow.
Too quiet.
Too still.
The doctor’s expression had shifted ten minutes ago, and Silas caught it. That subtle change. That hesitation no one else would notice.
He stepped closer instantly. “Say it.”
The doctor didn’t look up right away, fingers pressing carefully along her abdomen, watching for reaction that never came. “She’s not responding the way she should.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
A beat.
Then— “There’s likely internal bleeding.”
The room went cold.
Silas didn’t react outwardly at first. No explosion. No raised voice.
Just a stillness that felt heavier than anything else.
“How bad?” he asked, his tone controlled—too controlled.
“We don’t know yet,” the doctor replied. “But if it’s not managed quickly, it becomes critical.”
Silas’s jaw tightened, something dark flashing behind his eyes.
“Then manage it.”
The command wasn’t loud.
But it carried weight.
The kind that didn’t allow failure.
The nurse moved faster, prepping additional equipment, hands steady but urgent now. The doctor followed, issuing quiet instructions, shifting into something more aggressive—monitoring, adjusting, stabilizing.
Silas stayed exactly where he was.
One hand braced beside her, the other still wrapped around hers, thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles despite the bruising there. It was the only movement he allowed himself.
“Stay with me,” he muttered, low enough that it barely carried. “You don’t get to check out now. Not after all that fight.”
For a second—just a second—her fingers twitched.
Small.
Barely there.
But enough.
Silas leaned in immediately, his focus snapping tighter. “Becca.”
Her brows pulled faintly, like something was trying to break through. A breath hitched in her chest, uneven, sharp—and then her eyes fluttered.
Disoriented.
Unfocused.
Fear came first.
It always did.
Her body reacted before her mind caught up—hand jerking weakly, head turning, breath picking up in shallow bursts as panic clawed its way to the surface. The IV line shifted as she tried to move, instinct screaming at her to get out.
“Hey—hey—” the nurse started.
But Silas was already there.
His hand tightened around hers—not restraining, not forceful—but grounding.
“Easy,” he said, his voice dropping into something steady, controlled, cutting through the noise. “You’re safe.”
Her eyes struggled to focus on him, pupils blown, confusion and fear mixing into something raw. She tried to pull away, her body weak but still fighting, chest rising faster.
“Don’t—” she rasped, voice barely there. “Don’t touch—”
The words broke, her strength failing mid-sentence.
Silas didn’t let go.
“Look at me,” he said, quieter now—but firmer. “You’re not there anymore.”
Her gaze flickered, locking onto his for half a second.
Just long enough for something to shift.
Not trust.
Not yet.
But recognition of presence. Of control. Of something… different.
And then it hit her again.
Pain.
Her body tensed sharply, a broken breath tearing from her chest as her eyes squeezed shut, the fight draining out of her just as quickly as it came.
“Pressure’s dropping,” the nurse said quickly.
“Damn it,” the doctor muttered. “She’s crashing—get the fluids up, now.”
Silas’s expression didn’t change.
But something inside him did.
Something colder.
Something focused.
Her hand went slack in his.
“Becca,” he said, sharper this time.
No response.
Her body sank back into the bed, unconsciousness pulling her under again, deeper this time.
The monitor spiked once—
Then steadied.
Silence followed.
Heavy. Suffocating.
“Talk to me,” Silas said, his voice low, dangerous now as his eyes snapped to the doctor.
The doctor didn’t hesitate. “We’ve got it under control—for now. The bleeding’s internal but slow. We’re stabilizing it. She needs rest, monitoring. If it worsens, we intervene.”
Silas stared at him for a long second.
“For now,” he repeated.
“Yes.”
That wasn’t good enough.
But it was what they had.
Silas exhaled slowly through his nose, the only sign of the storm building beneath his control. His gaze dropped back to her, taking in every mark, every bruise, every sign of what she’d been through.
Someone did this.
Multiple someones.
And they were still breathing.
That thought didn’t sit well.
At all.
Without looking up, Silas spoke. “Jace.”
The door opened almost instantly. Jace stepped in, already reading the room, his posture shifting the second he saw Becca still out.
“She woke for a second,” Jace noted. “That’s something.”
“She’s bleeding internally,” Silas said flatly.
Jace’s expression hardened. “How bad?”
“Bad enough.”
That was all he needed.
Jace nodded once. “I’ve got IDs. Partial list, but it’s enough to start. Lionetti’s people were there—no surprise. But there’s more. Buyers. Private security. Some of them didn’t make it out.”
Silas’s gaze didn’t leave Becca.
“Good.”
The word landed heavy.
Cold.
“Lock down every route they could’ve taken,” Silas continued. “I want names, families, finances—everything. Anyone tied to that location is now a target.”
Jace didn’t question it. “Already in motion.”
“Quietly,” Silas added. “No noise. No headlines.”
A pause.
Then, finally, Silas looked up.
And there it was.
That shift.
Controlled—but fueled by something far more dangerous than anger alone.
“We’re not chasing them,” he said.
Jace’s brow lifted slightly. “No?”
Silas shook his head once.
“We’re taking everything they built… from the inside out.”
A slow burn.
A dismantling.
The kind that didn’t just hurt—
It erased.
Jace understood immediately. A faint smirk touched his mouth, sharp and approving. “Power play.”
“War,” Silas corrected.
But it didn’t sound loud.
It sounded certain.
His attention dropped back to Becca, his hand returning to hers without hesitation, thumb brushing lightly over her skin again like nothing else in the room mattered.
Because right now?
Nothing else did.
“They wanted to break her,” he said quietly.
His jaw tightened.
“They just gave me a reason to end them.”
The monitor continued its steady rhythm.
Becca didn’t move.
Didn’t wake.
And Silas?
He didn’t leave her side.
Not once.