Anyway

Anyway

“If I die tonight, at least let me see her smile again.”

\--

I woke to the scent of blood.

Not the sterile tang I’d grown used to — the kind that clung to vials and syringes. This was fresh. Sharp. Real.

And something else: smoke. The faint, choking kind. Ash and burnt metal. My body tensed before my mind caught up.

Something was wrong.
Or maybe — finally, finally — something was right.

I sat up too fast and the world tilted. My head spun. My chains were gone. That should’ve scared me. But all I could think was—

Why did it smell like fire?

The hallway outside was flickering red. Alarms blared faintly — muffled by distance or damage. I stumbled toward the bars, pressing against them even though my knees were shaking.

And then I saw it.

A shadow dragging itself down the corridor.

No. Not a shadow. A man.

A man I knew.

“Silas.”

He staggered toward me, soaked in blood, jacket torn and hanging off one shoulder. His steps were uneven. He was holding his side with one hand, the other dragging a pistol across the floor behind him.

I couldn’t breathe.

His face was barely recognizable — cuts across his brow, blood crusted in his stubble, one eye almost swollen shut. But it was him. I’d know that walk anywhere. That stubborn posture. That impossible, reckless idiot of a man.

He came.

Even when he shouldn’t have.

Even when it was suicide.

He came anyway.

“Silas—”

His legs gave out just a few feet from the door. He collapsed to one knee, coughing hard — wet, awful, blood hitting the concrete in a thick splatter.

I dropped to the floor, my palms slapping the ground as I reached for him through the bars. “No—no, no, you’re—” My throat closed up. “You’re dying.”

He looked up at me with that same maddening calm, even as blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

“I know,, baby,” he rasped.

I sobbed, full-body, like something cracked loose in me.

“But I needed to see you. Needed to know you were still breathing.” He coughed again. “You and the baby.”

My hands trembled as I reached through the bars, touching his face, his jaw, anything. “What did you do? Silas, what did you do?”

He gave me the faintest smile — cracked and bleeding.

“Made a mess.”

He reached for his back pocket and pulled out a ring of stolen keys, clumsy fingers trying to find the right one. His hands were shaking. Badly.

“Don’t move,” I said quickly, panicked. “You’re losing too much blood.”

He didn’t stop. Just kept fumbling with the lock.

“Silas,” I said again, my voice cracking. “You’re going to bleed out right here. Right in front of me.”

“Then I die here,” he said softly, “but not before I get you out.”

The lock clicked open.

The door swung wide.

I was out before I could think, catching him just as his body pitched forward. My arms wrapped around him tight, trying to hold him up — trying to keep him here, with me.

He groaned softly, head falling into the crook of my neck.

“Shit,” I whispered, “you’re burning up.”

“Lost too much blood,” he said hoarsely. “Knife to the side. Bullet grazed my back. Not healing fast enough. Think… they drugged me with something.”

I pulled him tighter against me, pressing my hand to his side. The blood soaked through instantly.

“Why didn’t you wait for backup?”

He pulled in a sharp breath. “Didn’t have time. They were moving you.”

I blinked through tears. “How did you even find me?”

He laughed once — a breath, really. “Followed the screaming.”

I bit back another sob.

He touched my stomach, just briefly. “She okay?”

I nodded quickly, both hands covering his. “She’s okay. We’re okay. Thanks to you.”

His hand slid down, fingers twitching. “Good. That’s good.”

“Silas—”

He looked at me, really looked, even through all that pain. “If I die tonight…” His voice caught. “Just let me see you smile again.”

I did.

Through tears, through panic, through everything.

I smiled for him.

He exhaled shakily. “Beautiful.”

I tried to keep him upright, but he was fading. His body sagged, breath shallow.

“No—no, no, no,” I whispered, cradling his face. “Stay with me. Please.”

“Door,” he muttered weakly. “Two halls down… left side. Steel door. That’s your way out.”

I shook my head. “I’m not leaving you.”

“You have to.” His tone sharpened, just enough. “They’ll come back. Vittorio has more men. I slowed them, I didn’t stop them.”

“Then we run together.”

He gave me the faintest head shake. “I can’t run.”

“Then I’ll drag you.”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Stubborn…”

“Always.”

His hand found mine again. “You save the baby. You don’t stop running.”

I kissed his knuckles. “Only if you run with me.”

A long silence.

Then—

“…Deal.”

I held him until the alarms grew louder again. Until the smoke pushed in from the corridor and the voices returned — shouting orders, bootsteps getting closer.

And then I moved.

I slung his arm over my shoulder, braced his weight, and started walking.

Step by step.

We weren’t out yet.

But we were together.

And that had to count for something.

He collapsed the second the lock clicked open.

“Silas!”

His weight hit the ground like a sack of wet stone — heavy and unmoving, his knees buckling hard as the pistol clattered from his grip. I caught him as best as I could, but he was already halfway gone — pale, slick with sweat, and bleeding fast.

Too fast.

I dropped to the floor beside him, arms wrapping around his back, cradling him into my lap like I could hold his pieces together with just my body.

His breathing stuttered, shallow and uneven. His head lolled against my chest.

Then—his hand moved. Weak, trembling, but deliberate. He reached for my stomach.

His palm landed there, warm and bloodied, and I froze.

He didn’t look up right away. He just let his hand rest against me, slow and gentle.

Then, voice breaking apart between each word, he whispered:

“I knew.”

My chest tightened.

He tilted his head slightly, resting his cheek against the curve of my arm. “Since the town. The day you dropped the peaches. Your hands… wouldn’t stop shaking.”

I felt it in my throat first — a lump I couldn’t swallow, a sound I couldn’t let out. I’d hidden it from everyone. Kept the truth buried under clothes and timing and survival.

But not from him.

Never from him.

I placed my hand over his, pressing it tighter against my belly. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

He huffed out the smallest, broken laugh. “You didn’t have to.”

For a moment, just one fragile second, the war outside didn’t matter. The blood didn’t matter. He was here. His hand was on our child. And I could finally breathe.

But only for that second.

Because the alarm blared.

Not the warning hum we’d been hearing before — this one was sharp. Violent. An angry mechanical scream that rattled the ceiling.

I flinched.

Silas’s body tensed against mine.

“No…” he whispered, trying to sit up. “No, no, not yet—”

Boots. Heavy. Coordinated. Getting closer. Fast.

“We’re surrounded,” I said, swallowing the panic clawing its way up my throat.

He pushed against the floor, trying to rise. His leg buckled again. I gripped his shirt, trying to steady him, but he was barely able to stay upright now.

His eyes — bloodshot, hazy — flicked toward the cell door, then back to me. His lips moved before his voice did.

“You run.”

“No.”

“Aria—”

“I’m not leaving you again.” I pressed his hand harder to my stomach. “She needs both of us.”

The lights above flickered as the hallway outside filled with the red wash of emergency strobes. The footsteps were at the end of the corridor now.

Closer.

“You can’t shoot.”

His eyes met mine. “Then I’ll bleed at them.”

I shook my head hard. “You’re in no shape to fight—”

He gritted his teeth. “Don’t need to win. Just need to stall.”

“Silas—”

“Love,” he cut in, firmer now. “Please. Just this once. Trust me.”

My throat burned. My body screamed against it. But his eyes—God, his eyes were still his. Still the man who threw himself between me and every bullet, every blade, every blow.

Still the man who came anyway.

So I kissed him. Hard. Fast. Final.

And whispered, “Come back to me.”

He nodded once. “I always do.”

Then I stood. Turned.

And ran.

His gun in my hand.

His blood still warm on my skin.

Our baby still alive inside me.

And as I reached the hallway, I heard it behind me—

Silas Raveen’s last stand.

The moment the man I loved stood up with nothing left in his body but rage and devotion and made them pay for taking me.