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“That door is locked,” I point out. “It’s locked tight and looks brand new. No matter how many times you pull on the handle, it’s not going to magically fucking open.”
The Alpha glares at the handle like it personally insulted him before his whole body seems to deflate. Shoulders drooping, he turns bright, confused eyes on me.
The hopelessness staring back at me is like looking in a damn mirror.
Fates, I don’t know what this kid wants so badly, but at some point he decided getting into this warehouse was seriously important and… fuck. It’s not like we can just go back to watching quietly.
Sighing, I reach out and place a hand on his shoulder. “If you really need to get in there—”
“I do!” He cuts me off, but it’s like my words had all the hope he thought was lost rushing right back in, so I don’t even admonish him for it.
“Then we’ll find another way to get in.” I lift a hand before he can start talking over me again. “I’m not totally against checking shit out, but if you want my help, you have to stop being so fucking reckless.”
That makes him pause. He considers me with a dubious expression before asking, “You’re really gonna go off-script and help me?”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “I really am. You’ve already sent this mission spiraling; we may as well see if we can find something useful. Come on.”
We’ve taken a grand total of three and a half steps before he opens his mouth again.
“I… ah… I’m sorry,” he mutters, falling into stride next to me and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. I wait, unsure whether this apology covers the last twenty minutes in general or something more specific.
“I just really need to get in there. I need to do something. Find something.”
His tone makes my senses prickle. This time, when I glance over at him, I make myself really look. It’s not like I haven’t noticed how shitty he’s looked since that fucking breakfast from hell, but damn…
He really, really looks like shit.
The circles under his eyes are dark purple, his facial hair is scraggly and untrimmed, even his mohawk’s unstyled, with wisps of hair escaping from the black beanie he haphazardly pulled on to cover it.
The momentary excitement from earlier is gone, too, and he’s back to shuffling along with his head down, shoulders hiked up to his ears. And just like that, the pieces all start to align.
“Discovering something won’t automatically get you back in Gav’s good graces, you know,” I say as gently as I can. “And if I know Ford, it won't do shit to save you from his wrath, either.”
Silas kicks a rock the size of a baseball mid-step and watches it skitter and tumble across the concrete lot until it eventually bounces to a stop about twenty feet away. He finally looks up and turns, meeting my gaze and shrugs ruefully.
“It’s not Gav I’m worried about,” he admits. “Not Ford, either, truthfully.”
I hum in acknowledgment and slow to a stop in front of another entrance on the south end of the building. This door is metal as well, but unlike the last one, its top layers are rusted, and the hinges are barely hanging on.
Perfect.
I crouch down and pull my tools out of the inside pocket of my jacket, laying them out in front of me.
“Thought you said this was just recon?” Silas asks dubiously.
I smirk. “I have not, nor will I ever, find myself locked in a coffin I can’t get out of,” I answer, and it takes every ounce of my control to keep a straight face when he lets out a surprised laugh.
I work on the bolts, prying one out easily before moving to the next.
“Hold onto the door so it doesn’t go toppling over,” I tell him, grunting as I struggle with a particularly stubborn bolt. “So. If you’re not worried about Gav or Ford, then who?”
Silas flattens his palms against the metal, and when his answer finally comes, it’s not at all what I was expecting.
“Idril.”
The entire door almost falls over when I let go in shock, and I just manage to catch it before Silas gets crushed.
“I really fucked up, Vae,” he murmurs, expression twisted with guilt. “I mean… really fucked up. I… I hurt her. Seriously hurt her. Like a fucking monster.”
