“You don’t have to hold that alone.”
I laugh, harsh and bitter. “What else can I do? You heard him. He’s going after Darius. And I’m chained here, useless.”
“You’re not useless,” Silas says, sharp enough that I look at him. “Roman’s full of shit. He feeds on fear. You give him silence, that’s strength, not weakness.”
My throat tightens. “He’s going to kill my brother.”
“Not if I stop him.”
Something in his eyes flickers when he says it, something that doesn’t match the cold mask he usually wears. I want to believe him. I want it so badly my chest aches with it.
But believing in him is dangerous.
He reaches out then, slow, cautious, like he knows the wolf in me might bite. His fingers brush the back of my hand, light and warm, grounding in a way that shouldn’t matter. I suck in a breath, my wolf pressing forward so sharply I almost lean into him before I catch myself.
I yank my hand back, snarl low in my throat.
But the truth is, for a heartbeat, I almost didn’t.
10
SILAS
The storm lays heavy over the compound, the kind that turns the whole world gray and white, swallowing sound until every movement feels louder than it should. Snow piles against the fences, soft ridges forming along the mesh wire that Roman had strung high enough to scrape the sky. The generators hum beneath it all, deep in the bones of the facility, but out here the noise is swallowed by the storm.
Nights like this make even this place feel muted, less like a fortress and more like a tomb. It’s why I chose tonight. The Syndicate prides itself on control, but storms don’t listen to Syndicates.
When I step into her cell, the smell of wolf hits me first. It’s sharper tonight, wilder, something restless just under her skin. Mary’s sitting with her knees drawn up, her hair shadowing her face, but the moment I enter her eyes flick up and lock on me. Green, cold, sharp enough to make most men stumble back.
“Get up,” I tell her.
Her lip curls. “Why.”
I toss the key onto the floor. It clinks against the concrete and the sound seems to echo longer than it should. “Because I said so.”
She doesn’t move at first, just studies me, suspicion written plain across her face. The wolf in her is awake tonight, restless the way mine always is, and for a moment I think she might lunge. Instead, she rises slowly, controlled, the chain at her waist dragging across the floor with a low scrape.
I undo the cuffs, then the belt, and for the very first time since I took her, she’s unbound. She doesn’t rub at the raw skin, doesn’t flex like a freed captive. She just stares at me, silent and sharp, waiting.
“You run,” I say, “and I won't stop you.”
Her brow arches. “That's a promise.”
“It’s a test.”
Her laugh comes low and bitter, like stones grinding together. “Of me or you.”
I don’t answer because the truth is both.
I turn and lead her out. The guards on shift don’t even glance our way; they’ve been fed the story already, that this is a containment drill, that Roman wants her tested. They’ll buy it because they’re trained to. Roman’s paranoia makes liars out of all of us, but the trick is to lie like the truth was his idea in the first place.
The old stairwell creaks as we climb, the smell of damp and rust thick in the air. Water drips from pipes, each drop echoing against stone until it sounds like a clock ticking down. Mary follows me in silence, but I can feel the weight of her eyes on my back the whole way.
We push through a steel door and step into the snow.
The courtyard is roofed with high mesh fencing, ice clinging to the wires like veins of glass, moonlight seeping through the gaps in muted silver. Snow covers everything, softening theedges of stone and steel until the compound looks less like a prison and more like a graveyard. The cold bites instantly, sharp enough to sting, but I breathe it deep anyway. It’s cleaner than the air inside.
Mary tilts her head back, eyes closing as she inhales. Her shoulders ease just slightly, the tension that rides her posture loosening under the weight of open sky. She looks less like a prisoner for one brief moment, more like the wolf she is.
