Chapter 35: Close Call (Silas POV)

The car’s headlights blind me, roaring loud as it speeds straight at us, tires screeching on the wet pavement outside the bar. My heart slams hard, and I yank Nico’s arm, fast, pulling him back with all I’ve got. “Move!” I yell, loud, shoving him toward the sidewalk as the car swerves, close, too close, metal brushing my leg. Nico stumbles, quick, grabbing my hand tight, and we run, feet pounding, no time to think—just go, away from that ambush, away from death screaming at us.

We hit an alley, narrow and dark, breath fogging in the cold, and I hear them—shouts, heavy steps, chasing us down. Blackmail enforcers, suits or muscle, I don’t know, but they’re fast, closing in. “Keep going!” I say, sharp, pulling Nico harder, his hand sweaty in mine, slipping a little but holding on. The alley twists, trash cans clanging as we kick them over, anything to slow them, and I see it—an old warehouse, door cracked open, dark inside. “There!” I yell, loud, dragging him toward it, my lungs burning raw.

We crash through, fast, the door banging shut behind us, and I shove a crate against it, quick, jamming it tight. Nico’s beside me, panting hard, hands shaking as he leans on the wall, dust kicking up around us. The place is empty—broken windows, shadows stretching long, air thick with mold—but it’s cover, for now. I listen, tense, heart hammering loud in my ears, and hear them outside—steps slowing, voices low, searching. “They’re close,” Nico says, quiet, voice rough, his eyes wide with fear.

I grab his arm, soft, pulling him deeper in, behind some old shelves, out of sight. “Stay down,” I say, low, crouching with him, our shoulders pressed tight, heat from his body mixing with mine. My chest’s tight, adrenaline pumping, and I feel it—fear, real, clawing at me, not just for me but for him. He’s shaking, bad, and I look at him, fast, seeing his face—pale, sweaty, eyes locked on mine like I’m all he’s got. “Silas,” he says, soft, barely a whisper, and it breaks something in me.

Then he moves, sudden—grabs my face, hard, hands rough on my cheeks, and kisses me, desperate, fierce, like he’s pouring everything into it. My breath stops, shock hitting first, then heat, flooding fast, and I kiss him back, hard, hands gripping his jacket, pulling him closer. It’s fear, adrenaline, wanting him alive, all crashing together, lips messy, teeth clacking, raw and real. He pulls back, quick, panting loud, and I’m dizzy, staring at him, feeling his pulse under my fingers where I hold his neck.

“I can’t lose you,” I say, low, voice shaking, the words spilling out before I can stop them. His eyes widen, fast, and he nods, small, hands still on my face, steady now. “Me either,” he says, quiet, voice cracking a little, and it’s there—us, clear, no hiding it anymore. The kiss lingers, heavy, and I lean my forehead against his, slow, breathing him in, dust and sweat and him, grounding me when everything’s spinning out.

Outside, the voices fade, steps moving off, and I pull back, slow, listening hard. “They’re leaving,” I say, quiet, still holding his arm, not letting go yet. Nico nods, fast, wiping his face with his sleeve, but his eyes stay on me, soft, different now. “Barely made it,” he says, low, shifting closer, his knee brushing mine as we sit, hidden in the dark. My heart’s still racing, but it’s not just the chase—it’s him, that kiss, shifting everything between us.

“We’ve got to move,” I say, loud, standing slow, pulling him up with me. “Mercer knows we’re onto him now—Lena ratted him out, and this?” I nod at the door, steady. “This was his answer.” Nico’s jaw tightens, and he grabs my hand again, quick, squeezing hard. “He’s scared,” he says, sharp, voice steadier. “Means we’re close.” I nod, slow, feeling it—danger, yeah, but us, stronger, pushing back together.

We creep to a side exit, careful, peeking out—no headlights, no shadows, just quiet night stretching wide. “Clear,” I say, low, stepping out, Nico right behind me, close like always. My mind’s spinning—Mercer, government ties, enforcers trying to kill us—but that kiss keeps cutting through, warm, real, holding me steady. “We’ll get him,” I say, quiet, glancing at him, and he nods, fast, a small smile breaking through, like he believes it because I do.

We’re halfway down the alley, sticking to the shadows, when Nico’s phone buzzes, loud, cutting the silence sharp. He pulls it out, fast, screen glowing bright, and stops dead, staring. “What?” I ask, quick, leaning in, my hand on his shoulder, light but firm. He turns it to me, slow, and I see it—one text, short, cold: “You should’ve run.” My gut drops, fear spiking back, and I grab his hand tighter, knowing we’re not out, not yet.