Entwined

Sudden death

writer's note:

Sorry for the short chapter. Something happened and broke my focus. Hope you enjoy it and please feel free to leave a comment.

I still didn't prood read it i might change stuff in the future but yeah enjoy!!!

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I strode out of the restaurant, my steps wider than usual, my mind a chaotic storm of frustration and disbelief. This wasn't just anger or shock; it was betrayal—and more than anything, it was frustration. Frustration at how easily everything tangled and then unraveled right in front of me.

I paused on the doorstep, the night air ruffling my hair, the weight of unshed tears prickling in my eyes. Just as I moved to leave, a voice interrupted my escape: "Your coat, Mademoiselle."

"Give it to me. I'll do it," Silas's voice cut in, sharp and firm. I turned to glare, but the anger slipped through my grasp. "I'm fully capable of dressing myself," I muttered, reaching for the coat. But he kept it out of reach, brushing my protest aside with a single, dismissive "Tsk."

I let him drape the coat over my shoulders, though I pulled back when he leaned in, trying to kiss me. It was better this way—Gregory gone, nowhere in sight. I could only manage dealing with them separately.

"Get in the car, wolfie," he murmured, his lips brushing the top of my head, his tone as soft as the nickname he used. He tightened his hands on my arms, pressing lightly. "Please, sugar, just be sweet this time."

I could've refused, walked away—but I didn't. Instead, I followed him to the car and slipped in. Silence stretched between us through the entire ride. I expected him to take me home, where I could finally let these tears fall, but the car slowed, gravel crunching beneath the tires in a place far from the city lights. I looked out and saw the dark outlines of gravestones against the sky.

The cemetery.

He stepped out without a word, and I followed, clutching my coat tightly. The air was bitterly cold, the kind that crept into my bones, but Silas strode forward, seemingly untouched by it. We stopped beside Hugo's grave, and Silas lowered himself to sit at the edge, looking up at me.

I stood there, wrapped in my coat, feeling every icy gust that whipped through the cemetery. "Why are we here, Silas?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He looked up, and a faint, almost challenging smile curved his lips. "Do you trust me?"

I didn't answer. The silence stretched on, long enough that I could feel his patience fray at the edges. I let it, holding back my response as a small act of rebellion. Payback, for all the frustration he'd left me with.

He chuckled, low and deep, then reached out and pulled me down onto his lap, his arms caging me in. "Do you?" he repeated, softer this time, the question almost a dare.

I sighed, feeling my resistance dissolve in the cold. "I do, but... I'm hurt," I admitted. "I'm hurt because you didn't see that I was at my lowest. I'm hurt because you agreed to share me with him. I'm hurt because you turned me into the very thing I despise—a trophy."

"You're right to feel this way," he said, his voice softer, laced with a rare gentleness. "But wolfie, I know you better than anyone. I saw every flicker of your pain, felt it in every breath you took. I may have let Gregory think he had a chance, but believe me—I'm not sharing you. Not now, not ever. And I promise to avenge every tear you've shed."

"You knew?" I asked, searching his face for any sign of hesitation. His eyes met mine, dark and steady.

"Yes. I did. I saw everything—every look, every touch. I knew the kind of man he was, and I kept track of every time you went to his studio. I could have ended it all sooner, but I knew you needed to see it through. I was there, just out of sight, directing you toward your own strength, your own revenge." He took a steady breath, his jaw tense. "Sometimes, revenge needs time to sharpen its edge. Sometimes, the coldest vengeance is the one we wait for."

I shook my head slightly, his words leaving me unsettled and curious. "So... what do we do now? He said he has something on you."

Silas's gaze faltered for the first time, a flicker of something almost human crossing his eyes. "He does."

I searched his face, feeling the weight of an unspoken truth hanging between us. "What is it?"

He looked away for a moment, gathering himself, before meeting my gaze again. "I'm a selfish man," he said, his tone laced with a quiet gravity.

"I know that," I replied, my voice barely audible.

"I'm possessive."

"That too."

He paused, his hand trailing gently down my arm, an oddly tender gesture considering his next words. "I can be so cold that I'd come to your funeral, knowing I watched you die and did absolutely nothing to stop it." His gaze drifted to Hugo's headstone as he added, "And I don't regret a single drop of his blood spilled."

I stared at him, unmoving, his words settling over me like frost. Every word was clear, each one sinking deeper, leaving me frozen in his lap, unable to look away.