42
SILAS
Noah won’t stop shaking.
I’m sitting on the floor of Parker’s living room with my back against the couch, Noah tucked against my side, his small body trembling despite the blanket wrapped around him. Liam is on Parker’s lap in the armchair, his face buried in her neck, her hand running soothing circles on his back.
We’ve been here for twenty minutes. Twenty minutes since we got back from the park. Twenty minutes since someone opened fire on us in broad fucking daylight.
Twenty minutes of trying to convince two five-year-olds that they’re safe when I’m not even sure that’s true.
“Uncle Silas?” Noah’s voice is small, muffled against my shirt. “Why did those people shoot at us?”
I glance at Parker over his head. She looks exhausted, terrified, holding it together by sheer force of will. She gives me a slight nod—permission to answer how I think is best.
“Sometimes bad people do bad things,” I say carefully, keeping my voice steady and calm despite the rage burning in my chest. “But they’re gone now. And we’re not going to let them hurt you.”
“But what if they come back?” Liam asks, lifting his head from Parker’s shoulder. His eyes are red from crying, his face blotchy. “What if they find us here?”
“They won’t.” Parker’s voice is firm, certain. “Because we have the best protection in the world. Uncle Silas, Uncle Jace, Uncle Cal, and Uncle Charles would never let anything happen to you. I promise.”
“Where’s Uncle Jace?” Noah asks, his hand fisting in my shirt. “I want Uncle Jace.”
“He’s making sure we’re safe,” I tell him. “Checking the house, making sure no bad guys can get in. He’ll be here soon.”
It’s not entirely a lie. Jace is coordinating with security, making sure the perimeter is locked down, that every entrance is covered, that no one can get within a hundred yards of this house without us knowing.
But mostly he’s trying to figure out who the fuck just tried to kill us and why.
“Can we sleep in your room tonight?” Liam asks Parker. “All of us? I don’t want to be alone.”
“Of course, baby.” Parker presses a kiss to his head. “We’ll all sleep together. You, me, and Noah. Safe and sound.”
“And Uncle Silas?” Noah looks up at me hopefully. “Can he stay too? And Uncle Cal and Uncle Jace?”
Fuck.
Parker’s eyes meet mine over the boys’ heads. There’s a question there, uncertainty about how to navigate this without revealing too much, without confusing them further.
“If your mom says it’s okay,” I say carefully, “I can stay in the guest room. Make sure you’re all protected.”
“No.” Noah’s grip on my shirt tightens. “Not the guest room. With us. Like when we have nightmares and Mom lets us sleep in her bed.”
Liam nods against Parker’s shoulder. “We feel safer when you’re here.”
Something in my chest cracks.
These kids—these beautiful, brave, terrified kids—feel safer with me here. Want me here. Trust me to protect them.
Whether they’re mine biologically or not doesn’t fucking matter. They’re mine now. Both of them.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “I’ll stay. If that’s what you need.”
“And Uncle Cal and Uncle Jace?” Liam presses.
“We’ll see,” Parker says gently. “But right now, I think we all need something to drink. How about some hot chocolate?”
“With marshmallows?” Noah asks hopefully.
