Silas’ POV

*****

He knelt on the floor. Confused. Dazed. Disoriented.

His memories were scattered, leaving him in a state of self-doubt. Willow—his mate’s best friend—died. All he could think about was comforting her and finding the person behind the murders once and for all.

When they confronted Professor Amelia, he felt like this was it. He felt like they’d finally found the culprit. But... there was something about the look in her eyes.

She was perfect at playing innocent, he’ll give her that.

But her eyes gave her away, glinting with a light he could only describe as malevolent. And staring at him too long for comfort while Luther held her up by the collar.

"... Marked one." Those words.

Just those two words leaving her mouth changed everything. One second he was behind his brother, ready to step in if Amelia tried anything funny. Next, he was here, kneeling on the floor while everyone else glared at him with a mix of distrust and fear.

His brother sat on the floor across him, back leaning against the wall. Blood trickled from the side of his mouth. The same blood Silas felt on his knuckles.

"Silas?" Celeste called from somewhere but he couldn’t pull himself together enough to see where. "Silas?!"

"I suggest we tie him up." Azrael intoned.

"No," Atlas mumbled. "He seemed lost. Like he doesn’t know what he did."

"Still doesn’t change the fact that he’s an unchecked threat. Did you feel the energy that tattoo gave off?"

Atlas snorted. "You’re one to talk, Vaelmont. If that’s even your true surname. You think we’ll ignore her calling you a millennium-old vampire...?" His voice became fainter in Silas’s ears toward the end.

He couldn’t focus on their argument. Or on anything in the room for that matter.

His hand rose to his chest, fingers brushing across the edges of the tattoo on his chest. Who knew after all this time it would come back to haunt him?

.

.

Silas Hale wasn’t always the silent, business-minded aristocrat everybody knew him as now. Years ago, during his newbie days in Bloodoak Academy... he was prone to making bad, miscalculated decisions.

Like he did one fateful night, when he wandered off into the woods surrounding Bloodoak. Trying and failing to escape to the city and getting lost in the process.

Vein beasts had come out in waves that night. He tried fleeing but there were just too many. When he attempted to fight back was when his name was stamped with death.

There had been so much blood. Wounds so deep that they touched bone. He should’ve died that night.

But he didn’t.

A presence had descended in the woods that night. A wolf, so feral and powerful that he thought it was an Alpha. What remained of the Vein Beasts fled for their lives, leaving him in the woods to die.

Until—he opened his eyes again and felt a sharp burn on his chest. He couldn’t scream because the brand had been made before he woke up. All his wounds were healed up like magic while a simple command was left in his head:

"You live to serve, my marked one. When the time is right, I shall require your assistance," a voice whose gender he couldn’t decipher echoed. "But do not tell anyone about tonight. Or the mark I’ve given you..."

.

.

The voice faded.

Just like it had that night.

And just like it always did whenever he tried to remember it for too long.

Silas blinked once. Twice.

The woods disappeared. The scent of blood and damp earth vanished. The cold night air gave way to somewhere warmer. Safer.

Atlas’ suite.

The group had come here during his retelling of that night.

He dragged in a shaky breath, his lungs burning like he’d just resurfaced from deep water.

"...I followed it."

His voice came out hoarse. Weak.

All eyes were on him.

Luther sat lazily on a sofa across from him. The blood on his lip had dried, but his gaze hadn’t softened. Not fully.

"...That voice," Silas continued, forcing the words out. "After that night, I kept hearing it. Like an echo. It never said much. Just... guided me."

His fingers curled slightly on his lap.

"I didn’t question it. I thought..." he laughed bitterly. "I thought it was instinct. My wolf. Something trying to keep me alive." A pause. "It wasn’t."

Silence swallowed the room.

"And the tattoo?" Atlas arms folded as he leaned against a wall, eyes sharp and calculating.

Silas’s hand rose again, brushing over the crescent moon and coiling serpent now faintly visible beneath his shirt.

"I never told anyone where it came from," he admitted. "I just... made something up. Said it was a personal thing. Something I didn’t want to talk about."

His gaze dropped.

"I didn’t know it would become... this."

Atlas exhaled slowly, pushing off the wall.

"I sensed it," he said. "Back there. When it activated."

Silas’s head lifted slightly.

"It wasn’t normal magic," Atlas continued. "It felt like the Vein. Not exactly the same but close enough."

Azrael hummed in agreement from where he stood near the window. "It was Vein-adjacent."

Atlas’ jaw tightened at that, his gaze flicking briefly to Azrael.

"...Good to know you’re suddenly so knowledgeable on the subject," he muttered dryly.

Azrael didn’t respond. Just watched.

The tension between them simmered but Silas barely registered it.

Because Celeste—

He finally looked at her.

She sat beside Luther, her head resting against his shoulder. Her eyes weren’t on him. They were anywhere but on him.

That hurt more than any punch.

"...Luther." His voice dropped. "I’m sorry."

The words felt inadequate the second they left his mouth.

Luther didn’t respond immediately. He just stared at him. Then—after a beat—he exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.

"...Yeah," he muttered. "You better be."

It wasn’t forgiveness. But not rejection either.

Silas swallowed as his gaze shifted. "...Celeste, I—"

A loud, piercing alarm suddenly blared through the academy, cutting him off instantly.

The sound was sharp. Deafening.

Everyone froze.

Silas’ heart dropped while Atlas’ head snapped toward the door.

"That’s not a drill."

Luther pushed himself to his feet. "What the hell now?"

Celeste lifted her head slowly.

And for the first time since he started speaking, her eyes met his.

Wide and fearful.

The alarm continued to scream through the academy halls, hurried footsteps resounding outside Atlas’ door. They all rushed for the door as well, every heart already dreading the worst.