“It hurts,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
He goes still.“Where?”
I press my hand over my sternum.“Here.Like something tearing.”
He closes his eyes briefly, jaw clenched.“I know.”
A tremor runs through him, like he’s fighting the urge to come closer.My chest tightens.I don’t want him closer.But I do want him closer.Both truths strain inside me.
I look away.“It’s supposed to ...feel different.”
“Yeah,” he breathes.“It is.”
Silence again, but heavier this time.Thicker.A knock breaks the tension.Silas stands instantly, moving toward the door with slow, cautious steps.He cracks it open just enough to see who it is.
Peyton’s soft voice filters through.“How is Aria?”
Aria.Not the leopard.Not the captive.Not the broken thing in a cage.JustAria.
Silas doesn’t fully open the door.“Improving.Slowly.”
“Can I come in?”Peyton asks gently.
He glances back at me, silently asking.
My stomach knots, but Peyton’s voice is soft and strangely comforting.Silas stands like a wall between me and anyone else waiting for my reply.I nod and he lets her in.
Peyton smiles warmly, not approaching the bed.She sits in the chair Silas had occupied, leaving him to stand near the wall.
“I’m glad you’re awake,” Peyton says softly.“I brought broth.I know solid food is hard right now.”
She sets the tray on the small table beside me but doesn’t push it closer.“I don’t want to overwhelm you.You choose if and when.”
Choice.That word feels foreign.Silas’s eyes soften as he watches my expression.
Peyton continues, “We’ll have Xavia check on you in a bit.She’s gentle.She’ll ask before doing anything.”
My chest tightens.“I don’t ...I don’t want anyone touching me.”
Peyton nods.“Then she won’t.We’ll adapt.”
I blink.Adapt?To me?No pack adapts to outsiders.No pack bends to something fragile.No pack gives a damn about someone who can’t contribute.But she says it like it's nothing.Like it’s expected.
Peyton glances at Silas.“She’s yours.”
Silas stiffens.“I know.”
My breath stops.Mine.A word I both crave and fear.
Peyton stands, giving me a warm nod.“Rest.Eat when you can.Xavia will be by tomorrow instead.”
When she leaves, Silas closes the door quietly and returns to the chair, but this time he sits closer.I pull the blanket tighter around myself.
“Do you want me to move back?”he asks softly.
I hesitate.“No.”
His shoulders ease.Minutes stretch.My stomach growls softly, traitorously.Silas pretends he doesn't hear it, but his jaw tick tightens.He’s worrying.But he doesn’t command that I eat, doesn’t push me to talk.He is simply concerned.
