Chapter two

Silas

Silence had always been my sanctuary, but in this house, it felt like a loaded gun waiting to go off. I stood in the center of the sunlit kitchen, a glass of ice water in my hand, letting the condensation drip down my knuckles. The quiet hum of the refrigerator was the only sound anchoring me to the present. I traced the edge of the marble countertop with my thumb, the dark ink of the snake tattoo coiling up my forearm flexing with the subtle movement. It was a permanent reminder of the life I had just dragged myself out of, and the shadows I was trying to keep at bay.

Moving in with Leo wasn’t part of the grand plan. At twenty-four, I had my own life, my own apartment across the city, and a business that operated strictly in the gray areas of the law. But when the heat from a rival faction got too close for comfort, Leo—my best friend, my brother in every way that mattered—had offered me a safe haven. He didn’t ask questions. He never did. We had grown up together in the gritty underbelly of the city, navigating the foster system until Leo aged out and took custody of his little sister. While my upbringing had been a revolving door of broken homes and bruised ribs, Leo’s house had been the only place I ever felt a semblance of peace. I owed him my life, my loyalty, and my absolute respect.

Which was exactly why the sudden, erratic thumping of my heart was a massive problem.

The soft pad of bare feet against the hardwood floor pulled me from my dark reverie. I didn’t move. I simply shifted my gaze toward the hallway entrance, expecting Leo. Instead, the air in my lungs evaporated.

It was Hazel.

She stumbled into the kitchen, completely oblivious to my presence. The afternoon sun caught the fiery strands of her messy red hair, illuminating it like a halo of embers. She was rubbing one eye with the back of her hand, a picture of sleep-drenched innocence. But there was absolutely nothing innocent about the way my body reacted to her.

She was wearing an oversized polo shirt—likely one of Liam’s, or maybe an old one of mine I had left behind years ago. It swallowed her petite frame, but the hem stopped dangerously high on her thighs, revealing a pair of short shorts that left entirely too much pale, smooth skin exposed. My eyes tracked the length of her legs, a sudden, violent possessiveness flaring in my chest.

This was Hazel. Little Hazel. The girl who used to hide behind thick, oversized glasses that magnified her eyes, burying her nose in fantasy books while Liam and I played video games. She used to be all knobby knees and shy smiles, a fragile thing we both swore to protect from the ugliness of the world.

But the girl standing before me was no longer a child. She was twenty-one, and the awkwardness of her teenage years had melted away, leaving behind a woman who was devastatingly beautiful. The thick glasses were gone, revealing striking, expressive eyes that were currently heavy with sleep. She looked soft. Pliable. Seductive in a way she didn’t even realize, which only made it worse.

I took a slow, measured breath, trying to cage the beast that was suddenly clawing at my ribs. Don't look at her like that, I ordered myself. She is Leo's sister. She is off-limits.

But then she dropped her hand, blinked, and finally registered the tall, dark figure standing in the corner of her kitchen.

Her reaction was instantaneous. A sharp, piercing scream tore from her throat, shattering the quiet afternoon. Her eyes went wide with sheer terror, and in a flash of pure survival instinct, she lunged backward, her hands desperately grabbing the heavy wooden bar stool to use as a makeshift weapon.

I didn’t flinch. I just watched her, a dark, amused smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth despite the situation. She looked like a cornered kitten—small, feisty, her fur standing on end, ready to scratch the eyes out of a predator twice her size. It was dangerously cute. I wanted to step forward, to take the stool from her trembling hands, to pin those delicate wrists against the wall and show her exactly how useless her little weapon would be against me.

The thought hit me with the force of a freight train, dark and intoxicating. I imagined the thorny web of a rose vine binding our hands together, my tattooed arm caging her in, the soft gasp she would make when she realized she was entirely at my mercy.

"Hazel!"

The frantic shout shattered my twisted fantasy. Heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs, and a second later, Liam burst into the kitchen, his chest heaving, eyes darting around the room looking for a threat.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Leo demanded, stepping between us instinctively, his protective older brother mode fully activated.

I took a slow sip of my water, the ice clinking against the glass, forcing my expression into a mask of cool, detached indifference. Inside, my blood was boiling, roaring in my ears, but I had spent a lifetime perfecting the art of hiding my demons.

Hazel was still clutching the stool, her knuckles white, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath the thin cotton of the polo shirt. She pointed a shaking finger at me. "He... he was just standing there! In the dark!"

"It's three in the afternoon, Hazel. It's hardly dark," I drawled, my voice a low, gravelly baritone that seemed to vibrate in the tense air. I set the glass down on the counter, my eyes locking onto hers. I watched the way she shivered at the sound of my voice. Good. She should be a little afraid.

Leo let out a massive sigh of relief, running a hand over his face. He reached out and gently pried the stool from her grip. "Jesus, Haze. You gave me a heart attack. It's just Silas."

"Just Silas?" she echoed, her voice pitching up in disbelief. She finally seemed to process who I was, her wide eyes scanning my face, taking in the sharper jawline, the hardened features, the ink that now crawled up my neck and arms. "What is he doing in our kitchen?"

Leo wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. The sight of another man touching her—even her brother—sent an irrational spike of jealousy through me. I clenched my jaw, burying my hands in the pockets of my dark trousers to keep from doing something stupid.

"I meant to tell you this morning, but you were dead to the world," Leo explained, his tone softening as he looked down at her. "Silas is going to be staying with us for a while. He's taking the guest room down the hall."

Hazel froze. Her eyes darted from Liam to me, the reality of his words crashing over her. "Staying with us? For how long?"

"As long as he needs to," Leo said firmly, leaving no room for argument. He looked over at me, a silent communication passing between us. I've got your back.

I nodded once, acknowledging the debt, but my gaze inevitably drifted back to the red-haired temptation tucked under his arm. She was staring at me, a mixture of confusion, lingering fear, and something else—something that looked dangerously like curiosity—swirling in her beautiful eyes.

"Sorry if I startled you, kitten," I murmured, the nickname slipping out before I could stop it. It felt right on my tongue.

Her breath hitched, a faint flush creeping up her neck. She didn't like the nickname, or maybe she liked it too much. Either way, the reaction was intoxicating.

"I'm not a kitten," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest, inadvertently pressing the soft fabric of the polo against her curves.

"Could have fooled me with the claws," I replied smoothly, my eyes dropping to her hands before rising to meet her gaze again.

Leo chuckled, completely oblivious to the thick, suffocating tension suddenly filling the room. "Alright, you two. Play nice. Silas, make yourself at home. Hazel, go put some actual pants on before you start cooking."

She flushed a deeper shade of crimson, shooting me one last, unreadable glare before turning on her heel and marching out of the kitchen. I watched her go, my eyes tracking the sway of her hips until she disappeared up the stairs.

When I turned back, Leo was opening the fridge, completely unaware that he had just invited a wolf into his home.

I leaned against the counter, the cold marble seeping through my shirt. The reality of our new living situation was sinking in, heavy and suffocating. I was going to be sleeping under the same roof as her. Breathing the same air. Hearing her soft footsteps in the middle of the night.

She was Leo's sister. She was the one line I could never cross.

But as I stood there, the phantom scent of her sleep-warm skin lingering in the air, I knew with terrifying certainty that my control was already slipping. I was a man who lived in the dark, and Hazel was a blinding, beautiful light. And God help me, I was going to drag her into the shadows with me.