Absolution | +18

Chapter 48

Val

It had been three days since The Underground, and each second felt like it dragged into eternity. I sat beside Silas, my hand resting lightly on his, my eyes tracing every slow, shallow breath he took. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest was the only sign of life, the only reassurance I had that he was still here, still fighting. But he hadn't woken up. Not since that moment he collapsed in the ring, his body giving out under the weight of everything—his injuries, the sickness, the exhaustion.

Seb and Hayden had helped me get him back here. If it hadn't been for them, I don't know what I would've done. Seb had insisted on carrying him, his face set in a grim mask as him and Hayden lifted Silas, Hayden made sure we weren't followed. Together, we'd gotten him home, out of that nightmare, but the real battle had only begun.

I hadn't left his side since. I couldn't. His fever had raged for hours, burning so hot I could barely stand to touch his skin. I spent every moment wiping his forehead with a cool cloth, whispering his name, begging him to stay with me. 

And now, finally, His fever had finally broken, leaving his skin cooler beneath my touch, but his body was still battered beyond recognition. He was too exhausted, too weak to open his eyes. Doc told me about it—when the body is pushed to its absolute limit, it sometimes shuts down. A kind of protective mechanism. And that's what was happening to him now. Silas wasn't just unconscious from the fight; his body was retreating, conserving every last ounce of energy just to survive. He was drained, physically and mentally, as if every fight he had ever been in had caught up to him all at once.

But knowing why didn't make it any easier to watch.

My eyes lingered on the deep bruises that lined his ribs, the cuts that marred his face, each one more devastating than the last. I wanted to reach out and touch him, to make sure he was real, but every time I looked at the injuries, my heart clenched so tightly it felt like I couldn't breathe. I had never seen him so fragile, so... breakable. And it tore me apart.

I blinked back the tears that had become all too familiar in the last few days. I had to be strong for him, had to hold it together, because if I fell apart now, I didn't know if I'd ever be able to pick up the pieces.

Leaning forward, I ran my fingers gently through his hair, brushing it away from his forehead. His brow was furrowed even in sleep, as if his body was still fighting something I couldn't see. "Please, Silas," I whispered, my voice barely a breath. "Please wake up."

I hadn't slept much either. I couldn't. Every time I tried to close my eyes, I saw him crumpling to the ground, heard the sickening thud as his body hit the floor of that filthy ring. The crowd roaring in the background. The terror that gripped me when he didn't move. Those moments haunted me. They played over and over in my mind, a never-ending loop of fear and panic. And now, sitting here in this quiet apartment, I couldn't shake the feeling that something could still go wrong. That he could slip away if I stopped watching him for even a second.

I glanced at his face, bruised and pale, the cut on his lip still raw. His lips twitched every now and then, like he was trying to say something but couldn't. Whatever nightmare he was trapped in, I hoped it wasn't as bad as the one I'd been living in since the moment he collapsed.

"You're stronger than this," I whispered, my voice catching in my throat. "You've always been stronger than this."

I knew his body needed time, that he needed to rest, but every hour that passed without him waking up gnawed at me. What if he didn't recover? What if his body was too broken, too drained? The thought made my chest tighten, and I had to blink rapidly to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over again.