Chapter 13
Silas
I shouldn’t have stepped outside.
That’s the first thing that hits me the second Jace’s voice cuts through the hall.
“She’s waking up.”
For a split second, I don’t move. The words don’t land right away—they hover there, like my brain needs a second to catch up.
Then they hit.
She’s awake.
“Fuck—”
The word leaves me as I’m already moving. The cigarette drops from my hand, forgotten, burning out against the ground as I push through the door and head straight down the hall. I don’t slow. Don’t think. Nothing else matters right now.
Just her.
The room comes into view in pieces—the low hum of machines, the steady rhythm of a monitor, the sterile air—but it all fades the second I see her.
She’s not still anymore.
Her fingers twitch weakly against the sheets, her breathing uneven like her body is fighting its way back to the surface.
Alive.
A tight breath pulls from my chest, sharper than I expect. Relief hits first, heavy and unfamiliar, settling somewhere deep where I don’t like anything to sit. Right behind it comes something else.
Pride.
Of course she fought.
“Vitals stabilized,” the doctor says as I step closer. “Internal bleeding has stopped. Blood pressure is holding steady. She’s responding very well.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, not taking my eyes off her. “No shit.”
She didn’t survive all that just to fold now.
“She’s a fighter.”
The words come out low, almost to myself, but they sit there heavy in my chest like something I’m not used to carrying.
“Everyone out,” I say, voice steady but final. “Give us space.”
No one argues. The room clears quickly, the door shutting behind them, leaving just the quiet hum of the machines and her uneven breathing.
And me.
I pull the chair closer and sit, but for a second, I don’t reach for her. I just look at her.
Bruised.
Bandaged.
Too fucking still for someone like her.
Something in my chest tightens, low and sharp.
Then I reach for her hand.
Slow. Careful.
The second my fingers wrap around hers; she flinches.
Hard.
Like I burned her.
“Fuck…” I breathe under my breath, softer this time.
Not at her.
Never at her.
At them.
At what they did to her.
“Hey,” I say, my voice shifting, dropping lower without me trying. “Easy… you’re alright.”
Her eyes flutter open slowly, heavy, unfocused. Confusion is there immediately, clouding everything as she tries to take in the room—the machines, the IV, the unfamiliar space pressing in around her.
“What… what’s going on…?” Her voice is barely there, dry and strained. “Where am I…?”
I tighten my grip just enough to ground her, my thumb brushing slow over her knuckles.
“You’re out,” I tell her. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”
Her breathing hitches at that, panic creeping in whether she wants it to or not.
“Inez…” she whispers, her voice breaking. “Christina… where are they? The other girls—what happened?”
That one hits.
I feel it, deep and sharp, but I keep my voice steady.
“We’re finding them,” I say. “Jace is already tracking everything. We’re not done. You hear me? This isn’t over.”
Her eyes come back to me then.
Really looking this time.
Something shifts in her expression—subtle, but there. Confusion doesn’t disappear, but it mixes with something else. Something softer. Searching.
Like she knows something she can’t fully reach yet.
“Stay with me,” I murmur.
Her gaze drifts again, slower now, until it lands beside her.
The lilies.
I see the moment she notices them.
The smallest break in her expression. A flicker of something real pushing through the fog.
But it doesn’t stay.
Her breathing stutters, her blinking picks up, faster now, like something inside her just snapped back into place all at once.
Too much.
Too fucking much.
I lean in slightly, tightening my hold on her hand.
“Hey… don’t go there,” I say quietly. “Not right now.”
But it’s already happening.
Her eyes snap back to mine.
This time, there’s recognition.
Not clear. Not full.
But enough.
Enough to hit something deep in my chest.
“Becs.”
The name leaves me rougher than I expect.
And it lands.
Her face crumples instantly, tears filling her eyes as her fingers curl weakly in my hand.
“Please…” her voice breaks, shaking. “Please don’t hurt me… I won’t fight, I swear… just—please…”
That shit hits like a punch straight through me.
My grip loosens immediately, my other hand coming up slower this time, more careful than I’ve ever been in my life.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” I say, quieter now. Not cold. Not controlled.
Real.
“You hear me? I’m not them.”
My thumb brushes over her hand again, steady, grounding.
But inside, something shifts in a way I don’t like.
Relief that she’s alive.
Pride that she fought her way back.
And something heavier sitting right underneath it.
Because now I see it.
The fear they left behind.
The damage I can’t undo.
All I can do now…
is make damn sure nobody ever gets the chance to do that shit to her again.
I can tell the moment she’s more present.
Her eyes don’t just flicker open this time—they stay open, adjusting slowly, tracking the room instead of drifting through it. The confusion is still there, heavy behind her gaze, but it’s sharper now. More aware. More her.
Her fingers shift slightly in mine—not instinct.
Choice.
I lean forward just enough so she doesn’t have to strain to see me.
“Don’t try to move too fast,” I tell her quietly. “Your body’s still catching up.”
Her gaze moves over me, slower this time, studying instead of reacting. There’s no immediate panic—just confusion, layered with curiosity and something cautious.
“Where am I?” she asks, her voice rough but steadier than before. “This isn’t a hospital.”
“No,” I answer. “It’s a safehouse.”
Her brows pull together. “A safehouse?” she repeats, like she’s testing the word.
“Means you’re off the grid,” I say. “No one finds you unless I let them.”
That gets her attention.
Her eyes narrow slightly—not fear, just… trying to understand what that means. Who I am in all of this.
“And you are…?” she presses.
“Silas.”
She watches me, waiting for more.
“I’m the one who got you out.”
Her lips part slightly at that, her eyes searching my face like she’s trying to match me to something in her memory.
“How?” she asks. “That place was locked down. There were guards everywhere.”
“We knew where to hit,” I say simply. “We made an opening and took it.”
“We?” she asks.
“Me and my team.”
She nods faintly, but I can tell that answer doesn’t settle everything. Not even close.
“I know you,” she says after a second, uncertainty threading through her voice. “Or… I should?”
“Yeah,” I tell her. “You should.”
I shift in the chair and reach back, grabbing the hem of my shirt.
“You remember the charity event?”
She nods slowly. “Yeah… I was running it.”
“I was there,” I say. “Didn’t stay long.”
Her eyes narrow slightly, trying to place me.
“I don’t—”
“I didn’t buy the painting,” I cut in. “Went with something else.”
I lift my shirt just enough and turn slightly, giving her a clear view over my shoulder.
The tattoo.
Her tattoo.
She stills completely.
“…that’s mine,” she whispers.
“Yeah.”
I let the shirt fall back into place and turn toward her again.
“Came back after the event,” I add. “Figured if I was going to spend money, it might as well mean something.”
Her expression shifts—confusion softening into something else as recognition starts to settle in.
“I remember you,” she says slowly. “You didn’t talk much.”
“That tracks.”
The faintest flicker of something almost like a smile touches her lips, but it fades quickly as everything else presses back in.
The door opens behind me, the doctor and nurse stepping in quietly. They move around her, checking her vitals, adjusting the IV. She glances at them briefly, but her attention keeps pulling back to me.
When they finish, they step out again, leaving us alone.
Silence settles for a moment.
I lean forward slightly.
“What do you remember?” I ask.
She hesitates, her expression tightening as she tries to piece it together.
“The club,” she says slowly. “I was with Cassie and Marie… I had a drink…” She exhales, frustrated. “After that it’s just… pieces. Nothing clear.”
“That’s normal,” I tell her. “Your body’s blocking parts of it.”
Her eyes flick back to mine.
“You said you got me out,” she presses. “Why were you even there?”
I don’t rush the answer.
“I’ve been watching Lionetti for years,” I say. “Him and his daughter. Nothing ever sticks to them. Charges disappear. Witnesses don’t talk.”
Her expression hardens slightly.
“I started putting pieces together,” I continue. “Then I saw Izzy.”
That lands differently.
Her jaw tightens.
“With Jenna,” I add. “That told me everything I needed to know.”
Silence stretches between us.
“And me?” she asks, quieter now.
I hold her gaze.
“I saw you with him,” I say. “That put you on my radar.”
Her brows pull together slightly.
“So you were watching me?” she asks.
There’s no accusation—just confusion.
“Yeah.”
She exhales slowly, looking away for a second.
“That’s… kind of fucking weird,” she mutters.
Fair.
“It wasn’t about you at first,” I say. “It was about who you were around.”
Her eyes come back to mine.
“And after?” she asks.
I don’t hesitate.
“After, it was about keeping you safe.”
That lands heavier.
She goes quiet for a moment, taking it in.
Then something shifts in her expression.
“The club…” she says slowly. “Someone helped me that night… when I was too drunk.”
Her eyes lock on mine.
“That was you.”
“Yeah.”
“And the lilies,” she adds, glancing toward them beside her bed. “That was you too.”
“Yeah.”
She looks at them for a second, then back at me.
“You’ve been around a lot,” she says.
“I keep an eye on what matters.”
Her expression tightens—not fear but overwhelm.
“That’s a lot,” she says quietly. “Everything you’re saying… it’s a lot.”
“I know.”
I don’t push her.
But she doesn’t stop.
“How did you get into the auction?” she asks. “And why—” her voice tightens slightly “—why me?”
I exhale slowly.
“You weren’t the only one we pulled,” I tell her. “We got as many out as we could.”
Her eyes search mine.
“But you were my priority.”
That lands heavier than everything else.
“Inez?” she asks quickly.
“She wasn’t in your section when we breached,” I say. “We’re tracking her.”
“And Christina?”
“Got separated in the chaos.”
Her face falls slightly at that, the weight of it settling in.
Silence stretches.
Then something changes.
I see it in her eyes before she even speaks.
The confusion is still there.
The fear too.
But underneath it—
Fire.
“I want in,” she says.
I don’t hesitate.
“No.”
Her eyes flash immediately.
“I’m not asking,” she snaps. “I’m telling you.”
“Not happening,” I say, calm but firm.
“I was there,” she pushes. “You think I’m just going to sit here while they keep doing that to other girls?”
“You’re going to sit here and heal,” I cut in. “That’s what you’re going to do.”
“I’m not some helpless girl you need to protect,” she snaps.
“I know that” I say, my voice dropping slightly. “That’s exactly why I’m telling you no right now.”
She stares at me, breathing heavier now.
“You can train me,” she says. “Teach me what you do.”
“And throw you into something you’re not ready for?” I shake my head. “That gets you killed.”
“I’m already in it!” she fires back. “They took me. They took my best friend. You think I get to walk away from that?”
That hits.
Hard.
I hold her gaze, seeing it clearly now.
She’s not reacting.
She’s decided.
“You’re not a damsel,” I say quietly. “Never were.”
She doesn’t look away.
“But you don’t step into that world half-healed,” I continue. “That’s how you don’t make it out a second time.”
Silence stretches between us.
Tight. Heavy.
“When you heal,” I say finally, my voice lower now. “When you’re actually strong enough to stand in it…”
I meet her eyes fully.
“Then we talk.”
She studies me for a long second.
Then gives the smallest nod.
Not agreement.
Not fully.
But enough.
I lean back slightly, still holding her hand.
“For now,” I tell her, “You get stronger.”
Her grip tightens just slightly in mine.
And I feel it.
She’s still scared.
Still processing.
But underneath it now?
She’s ready to burn.
And when the time comes—
I won’t stop her.