He blinked. Hearing my voice, must have snapped him out of whatever trance held him.
“I’m coming,” he assured me, turning to follow us.
We moved fast after that, descending concrete steps in tight spirals before pushing through a back exit and out into the night. Cool air rushed over my skin as darkness swallowed us whole.
“What about Marco?” I asked as we hurried toward the van.
Knox didn’t slow, pulling me behind him at a punishing pace. “The second he shows up, we’ll have him,” he said. “We'll track everything. His movements, his calls, who he runs to. He’ll lead us straight to the remaining omegas.”
“And when he does,” he added, opening the van door, “we'll take him.”
The implication hung heavy.
The workshop.
We climbed in, the door sliding shut behind us, sealing the night out.
As Knox put the keys in the ignition and the engine roared to life, I felt it.
A stare.
I turned.
Silas sat across from me, blood still streaked across his skin, his pale hair darkened in places, and his glacial blue eyes fixed on me, searching.
“You watched,” he said with curiosity.
“I did.”
Silas held my gaze for a long moment, considering what to say next.
“Most people don’t,” he said finally, voice almost thoughtful. “They turn away. Or they try to pretend it doesn’t affect them.”
His head tilted, studying me like he was piecing something together.
“But you didn’t.”
I didn’t want to look away.
I couldn't.
“No,” I said simply.
A knowing, faint smile spread across his lips.
“I figured you wouldn’t,” he admitted.
Silas’s gaze dropped briefly, like he was replaying it, then lifted again, locking onto mine with sharper focus.
“There’s a difference between enduring it…” he continued, “and understanding it.”
A pause.
“You didn’t just endure it.”
The words settled between us.
I felt it then, the truth of what he was saying, even if I didn’t fully understand it yet.
