“Feed me, Alice.”

“Feed me, Alice.”
Alice’s Point of View

Calla’s footsteps echoed softly behind me as we made our way back to Silas’s room, the gunfire outside a distant, relentless pulse that kept my nerves on edge.

The moment I stepped in, I paused.

Silas was awake.

He sat slouched against the bed, propped up by too many pillows. His gray eyes were vacant yet wild, and beside him, his Nurse hovered like a leaf in a storm—trying to keep her composure, but visibly shaken.

Her hands trembled as she reached for the food tray.

I noticed a gauze wrapped tightly around her forearm—white, but faintly stained. He must have scratched or hit her with a sharp object in one of his episodes.

I couldn’t blame her for being afraid.

Honestly, if I were in her place, I’d have resigned long ago no matter the pay it brought.

Silas DeVescori wasn’t just a patient. He was a storm held in a man’s body—gentle skies one second, thunder and fury the next.

His nurse was trying to coax him to eat, her voice soft and pleading, but Silas’s low growl made her flinch, her hands shaking as she stepped back.

I hesitated at the threshold. Part of me wanted to turn around and leave before he unleashed whatever storm brewed behind his eyes. 

But another part—maybe the stronger, dumber part—wanted to try, to test if my presence could calm him, and reach him where others couldn’t.

What am I doing? I thought, my heart pounding. 

Tiberio’s rule—Stay away from Silas—echoed in my mind, but the memory of Silas’s broken gaze in the music room, the way he’d clung to me, pulled me forward. 

With a quiet sigh, I crossed the room. 

“Silas,” I called gently, my voice barely above a whisper.

His head snapped up, gray eyes locking onto mine, and his nurse’s gaze followed, relief flashing across her face so quickly I nearly missed it. 

“Alice?” Silas whispered, surprise and something like joy softening his voice. 

There was light in his eyes I hadn’t seen before. A spark of life breaking through the shadows that haunted him. 

He was a boy lost in a nightmare who just saw his lullaby walk in, and it stirred something in me—pity, maybe, or a dangerous curiosity I couldn’t shake.

Beside him, his nurse turned too, her posture easing just slightly. 

My eyes caught the tag on her gown: Emily Morris. 

“Hello, miss,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

I nodded, offering a small smile to ease her nerves. 

“You can go,” I said, keeping my tone firm but kind. 

She hesitated, her eyes flicking to Silas, whose glare pierced through her like a blade. The intensity in his stare was almost comical, and a faint smile tugged at my lips.

“I can take it from here.” I assured her, though doubt gnawed at me. 

She looked skeptical but nodded.

Before leaving, she gave me instructions about his meds and doses quickly explaining how to administer Silas’s medications.

Then she was gone, her footsteps hurried.

The door remained open. And of course, Reid was there—standing tall in the hallway like a statue carved from suspicion.

His eyes were locked on me like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve. Or a mistake he was waiting for me to make.

I ignored him.

Turning back to Silas, I found him already staring at me. That gaze—haunting and deep—held no threat, just hunger. Not for food… but maybe for something else. Something only I could give.

Unlike Tiberio’s gaze, which scorched through my bones, Silas’s was quieter, but just as dangerous. It wasn’t fire—it was quicksand. And I could feel myself sinking the longer I looked into it.

“I see you slept well,” I said softly, settling on the edge of the bed, the tray balanced on my thighs.

He didn’t speak. Just kept staring like I was a hallucination he didn’t want to blink away.

I cleared my throat, hoping to break the awkward silence, but he remained still, his silence louder than words. 

‘Come on, Alice, say something,’ i thought, frustration bubbling. 

“You should eat,” I said softly. “It’ll help. My grandma used to say food is magic, a gift from the earth. 

I smiled, eyes blurry with memories. “She’d say it feeds the belly, sure—but also the soul. And no matter how broken a day was, a good meal could fix a piece of it.” 

The memories hit me like a freight train. 

I realized that I never got the chance to bond with her after being away for two years. And when I finally came back, she was gone. 

I didn’t even have time to grieve her properly, let alone honor her memory—the one person who truly loved me, the only real family I ever had.

Tears pricked my eyes, and I didn’t realize I was crying until Silas’s hand cupped my cheek, his palm warm and startlingly gentle.

I froze, my gaze snapping to his. His gray eyes held a softness I hadn’t seen before, a tenderness that made my chest ache. 

“Hey,” he rasped, his voice hoarse, raw with something I couldn’t name.

I forced a smile, pulling back from his touch, my heart racing. 

Reid had seen. I was sure of it. And he’d report it like some loyal watchdog.

“I… I’m sorry,” I mumbled, wiping my tears. “I got carried away. I didn’t mean to get emotional.” 

I tried to brush it off, even though my voice cracked.

I looked down at the tray with a forced smile. 

“Here, eat this.”

But he didn’t move. He didn’t even look at the tray.

His next words took me by surprise.

“Feed me, Alice,” he said, his voice low, not a request but a gentle command. “I want you to feed me.”

I froze.

The vulnerability in his tone clashed with the undeniable DEVescori edge—a man who took what he wanted, even in his brokenness. I glanced at the tray, a simple meal of broth, bread, and sliced fruit, and then back at him, my mind racing. 

Feeding him felt intimate, a line I wasn’t sure I should cross, not with Tiberio’s threat—I punish hard—ringing in my ears. But Silas’s eyes, pleading yet commanding, held me captive, and I couldn’t say no.

There was no anger, no command in his voice. Just a quiet ache. A need for something real. For care. For touch. For the one thing Silas DeVescori rarely got from the world: gentleness.

And right then, in that room, I became more than a voice. More than a weapon.

To him… I was comfort. And that terrified me.

“Okay,” I said softly, picking up the spoon, my hands trembling slightly. 

I scooped a bit of broth, holding it to his lips, and he leaned forward, his gaze never leaving mine as he took it. 

The act was quiet, almost sacred, and for a moment, the gunfire outside faded, the room shrinking to just us. 

His trust, stirred something in me—a dangerous pull toward the man beneath the madness. But Reid’s shadow loomed, and Tiberio’s warning echoed, a reminder that every choice I made in this mansion could be my undoing.