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“Why did you do it?” I ask, trying to keep my tone even—which isn’t easy.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way Idril looked that morning, sprawled across the floor like a broken doll, back arched, screaming in pain.

Screaming for her mother.

It fucking haunts me. I still hear it in my dreams, every single night. I close my eyes, and when I wake up, all I can remember are the white bird and the cage and Idril’s screams.

“I don’t know,” Silas answers, exhaling in frustration. “I mean, shit… I do know. I know exactly why I did it. I wanted to be the one who finally got answers out of her.”

When I shoot him a confused look over my shoulder, he huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Come on, man. I always have to find a way to prove myself. I know I do shit that annoys you guys, but with Ford and Evander gone, I’ve just felt… I dunno. Alone, I guess.”

His cheeks redden, and he looks away. To be fair, I can understand what he’s saying, in a way. Ford and Evander are his Pack. Even when he acts like an idiot, they love him anyway. They always want him around—he’s their brother. But to the rest of us, he’s more of an annoying gnat who’s sometimes useful.

“It’s dumb,” he mutters when I don’t say anything. “I just thought that if I could get her to talk, everyone would be thankful. Even if it were a shitty thing to do, it wouldn’t matter because we’d have answers and you guys would finally see me as a part of the team.”

“Silas, we do see you as a part of the team.”

“No,” he shakes his head, eyes hard. “You see me as a part of my Pack. But if Evander and Ford weren’t my Packmates, Gav would have never looked at me twice. I definitely wouldn’t be a part of his inner circle. I’m only here because without me, you guys don’t get Ford and Evander, either.”

I work the final bolt free and slide the door from its frame, leaning it against the brick wall. After repacking my tools, I climbed to my feet, struggling to find something to say to put Silas at ease.

Before Silas can step through the doorframe, I grab his shoulder to stop him. He stills, but doesn’t turn to look at me. His whole body is tense, muscles tight with anxiety.

“You’re useful, Silas,” I tell him, then wince. I’m not good at this kind of shit. I don’t know how to make someone feel better with words. “You don’t need to put yourself in danger to prove it.”

Silas warily turns around to face me. He meets my gaze, and whatever he’s searching for, he must find because his lips curve into a genuine smile.

I have a feeling I’m seeing the real Silas for the first time in decades, not the mask of chaos he hides behind.

The smile only lasts a few breaths before he steps back, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Apparently neither of us is very good at this emotional shit.

I extend an arm, gesturing for him to go ahead of me. “You first. This was your hair-brained scheme, so you get the privilege of stepping into the creepy as fuck decommissioned military building potentially swarming with the ghosts of low-level Severed.”

He snorts a laugh, pulling his flashlight from a back pocket and flicking it on. I follow suit, stepping behind him into the dark, heavy atmosphere of the building.

Unsurprisingly, the interior’s stripped bare. Long hallways extend from the main entrance, shooting off in multiple directions. Once-vivid paint has noticeably dulled over time, peeling from the walls in long jagged streaks.

Most doors hang from their hinges—when they aren’t, they're missing completely. The smell of rust, iron, and dust is thick in the air, only partially overshadowed by the stale, lingering scent of Deadwalkers.

This place has been out of commission for decades, and yet⁠—

“It doesn’t feel empty,” Silas mutters, giving voice to my thoughts.

There’s something here. Something that’s changed the air itself, making it press in on me with suffocating intensity. I try to ignore it as I take a random turn down a long hallway. The farther we go, the stronger the heavy, ominous feeling becomes.

The scent of ozone appears from seemingly nowhere, hitting me straight in the chest. I inhale a shocked gasp and curse my stupidity. The scent snakes through my sinuses like a fucking parasite that’s just been waiting for its chance to strike.

Disoriented, I stumble back a step. Silas turns, raising a brow in question, and I shake my head, gesturing for him to keep going.

“You good?” he asks, and I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The scent grows along with my anxiety. My thoughts tumble over each other, taunting me with all the possible outcomes of my Curse going off. The intrusive thoughts pop up out of nowhere, just like they always fucking do. They’re always there, in the back of my mind, waiting in gleeful anticipation for the second I let my guard down and allow fear to trickle in, creating a breach in my fortifications wide enough to launch a full-on attack.

My mastery over this part of me only extends so far, and once it passes that invisible line, it’s no longer something I can control. It takes over everything. When that happens, I’m no longer me. Vae disappears, and nothing remains but the Curse—untold destruction, moments from being unleashed.

Losing it right now would be a nightmare. I can’t let it happen. I won’t.