June
It wasn’tthe first time I’d woken up feeling like death warmed over.
I knew the feeling before I opened my eyes—burning under my skin, the way my lungs ached for air, the way my heart thudded against my ribs like it wasn’t quite sure it was supposed to keep going. Everything was too quiet…too still.
Then—noise.
The beep of the heart monitor. The rasp of the oxygen machine.
Only then did the pain come.
A slow, pulsing throb bloomed in my wrist with every heartbeat. It was bandaged, immobilized…but still there.
And so was Silas.
Sleeping in a chair to my left, his head tipped back, brow furrowed and arms crossed. He’d definitely had a shower; his hair was still damp.
What a fucking day.
I wanted to say something, but my mouth felt like it was full of sand. I tried to swallow—tried again. The second timeworked, just barely. I shifted a little, and the movement made the bed creak, the sheets rustle.
His eyes snapped open.
Silas straightened fast, like his body was still in fight mode. He didn’t speak at first—just leaned in, eyes locked on mine, waiting like he didn’t trust what he was seeing.
Then his hand found mine. My good one.
“June,” he said, voice rough with sleep. “You’re awake.
I blinked slowly, trying to smile. “Hey.”
He let out a rough breath, his thumb brushing across the back of my hand. “How do you feel?”
“Like I got hit by a truck.”
His mouth tugged into a smile at my answer, but the worry was still there in the corners of his eyes. He sat back in the chair, just slightly.
“Makes sense,” he said after a beat. “You were ramblin’ about some light. Thought I was gonna lose you right there in the truck. Scared the hell out of me.”
“For what it’s worth,” I whispered, “I scared me too.”
He let out a short breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Got into it with Rhett, nearly drove us off the road twice. Walked in here like fuckin’ Tarzan and refused to put on a shirt until I was sure you were okay.”
“Wow,” I said. “You went on a clothing strike for me. Chivalry is not dead.”
Silas huffed a laugh, but it didn’t stick. His eyes flicked back to my bandaged wrist, and his thumb kept moving over my other hand—like he was reassuring himself I was still here.
The silence stretched.
“Silas?” I said gently.
He looked up. “I don’t know where it came from. Nobody does.”
I frowned. “What?”
“The snake.” He shifted, leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Animal control came after I got here, house was unlocked. They said they found the guts, the blood…but there was no corpse. And they didn’t find any evidence of it livin’ there either—looked under the church, through the walls, the crawlspace, attic.Nothing. No shed skin, no droppings, no trail…just gone.”
I watched him, but couldn’t get a read on him.
