Chapter 5

SILAS

“Are you even listening to me?” I demanded, leaning forward, my voice a low growl. Riley’s eyes were glazed, lost in whatever fevered haze had taken over, and I was starting to doubt he could even hear me. He didn’t respond, just stared, his lips parting in some kind of dazed surrender.

And then he leaned in, lips brushing against mine, the contact so brief, it was almost a whisper. But in the same instant, my grip on the knife tightened, the blade biting deeper into his skin. Warm, slick blood coated my fingers, forcing me to jerk back. The heat, the scent—it was too intimate, too close.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I spat, glaring at him. He groaned, hips lifting under my weight, his breath shuddering as he muttered, “I—I can’t help it…” His head rolled to the side, before his gaze met mine, pupils blown wide. “Please… make it stop… Marcus.”

That name. Marcus. I didn’t know why it made my skin crawl, but it did. I bit down on the frustration, fingers pressing into his hip, forcing his body still as he tried to push against me again, mindlessly. Every part of him seemed to be on fire, thrashing, chasing relief. But for me, it was something else entirely.

“Christ.” I ran a hand over my face, standing up, putting a few blessed inches between us. “This is pointless.” I glanced down at him, the man barely held back by the chains looped around the bedpost. They were nothing more than a suggestion of restraint to him. His kind could snap them like thread if he wanted.

No, I had to remind myself—he wasn’t even aware. Whatever had overtaken him had stripped him of everything else. All that was left was this animal, desperate and hungry.

I knew what I should do. Kill him. It would be the smart thing, the safest thing. My fingers tightened on the knife handle, my chest going tight. End it here. While he’s too far gone to realize what’s happening, before he’s capable of ripping me to shreds.

But I shook the thought off, forcing myself back from the edge. Not yet. There were things I needed to know, answers hidden somewhere under that fevered skin. Questions that had haunted me long before he arrived at my doorstep.

It had been three days since I’d first heard his cries echoing through the house, and the sound of them still clung to the walls. I’d moved him to the basement as soon as I could, chained him down like the beast he was, forced myself to ignore his strangled pleas.

I pulled my coat closer as I stepped outside, the chill biting at my skin. Winter was coming early this year; the air was sharp, cutting through me like a warning. I whistled, snapping my fingers to get Scout’s attention, and the dog barked, trotting back towards the house, tail wagging as if we hadn’t just spent hours working in the cold.

Later, as I sat down for dinner, the food lay untouched in front of me. All I could think of was him, shackled in that basement, screaming to the darkness. I wasn’t worried about anyone hearing him; we were miles from any other soul. But the sound still got under my skin, an itch I couldn’t shake.

Finally, I stood, grabbed the keys, and made my way down the stairs. The basement light buzzed as I turned it on, a flickering glow casting shadows on the concrete walls. The floor creaked under me, my footsteps echoing in the silence. And then, as I rounded the corner, I saw him.

He was on his knees, head lifted, eyes already locked on me. Chains snaked around his wrists, binding him to the wall, and his lips twisted in a half-smirk when he saw me.

“Really? Chains again?” His voice was rough, almost mocking, as he tugged against the metal. I knew it wouldn’t budge. The silver links were made for his kind, each one designed to hold against strength that could break steel.

Ignoring him, I took a slow step forward, positioning myself on the table in front of him, just out of reach. I studied his face, waiting for a hint of anything—fear, anger, something I could use.

“Tell me who you really are and why you’re here,” I demanded. He just stared at me, brow furrowing in confusion.

“I already told you, I’m—”

“Try again,” I cut him off, voice sharp. I moved in closer but kept my distance. I’d made the mistake of trusting his silence once. I wouldn’t do it again.

“What are you talking about? Why are you doing this?” His voice cracked, an edge of desperation creeping in. He shifted, testing the chains again, but they held firm. I crossed my arms, cocking my head, keeping my expression as blank as possible.

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"You don’t remember?" I asked, my voice low, watching as he clicked his tongue and tossed his head back with a scoff.

"Remember what?"

I leaned back until my ass hit the edge of the table, legs spread wide in faded blue jeans that stretched just right. "How you passed out in my arms, shifted into that beast, kissed me, and tried to fuck me." His eyes went wide, and he started stammering.

"I—I can explain—" he stuttered, and I couldn’t help the grin tugging at my lips, even though my insides twisted.

"Good. Now we’re getting somewhere."

He dropped his gaze to the floor. "What do you want from me?"

I dragged a chair closer, lowering myself into it, and leveled my stare. "I want to know if there are more coming," I said, and his face scrunched in confusion.

"More?" he echoed, and I hissed, impatient.

"Yeah. More of your people. Like your kind promised." The memory of his words slithered through me, his voice still echoing from that night when he marked me.

"Run, little boy, run, because when we find you, we will hunt."

"Promised? I have no idea what you’re talking about! I was running from my pack when you found me—they were going to kill me, I swear," he pleaded, but I didn't buy it. Couldn't. I knew his kind too well, knew what they lived for. They loved the thrill of the hunt, and I was just one more piece of prey.