tw: allusion to self-harm and suicide attempts

please proceed this chapter with caution. in the us? message 988 if you are experiencing mental distress or having suicide ideations for 24/7 care.

stay safe, loves. also, feel free to dm me if you ever feel alone.

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The walk to Silas's mansion was silent.

Not a word was exchanged between Rebel and the large male. Some members of the Hellsgate community tried to approach the Alpha during their walk, but they were all sent off with a cold, quick response about meeting sometime later.

Silas opened the front door and stepped aside. "Go in. My office is to the first left, and take a seat." No emotion, not even a glance in her direction, and his body was rim-rod straight.

Hell. . .

Rebel did as Silas told (it wasn't like she could do anything else), and sat on a dark leather couch across from his desk. She found the surprisingly large office spaced dressed in mahogany and black furnishings. Silas's house's interior had more of a contemporary rustic feel contrary to the Victorian outside of the mansion.

As she waited for him, she took some time to look at his office's decor. Behind his desk, he had a built-in bookshelf. Rebel recognized a few titles from his collection, some supernatural tomes, and the other books were literary classics like War and Peace, Beowulf, and The Count of Monte Cristo. She even spotted a copy of Pride and Prejudice tucked away at the end of one shelf.

It was probably all for decor, she thought rolling her eyes. Rebel couldn't imagine such a hyper-masculine man reading what was debatably Jane Austen's magnum opus, especially a romance story at that. Or any of the other books on the shelves.

Silas seemed like a hard-headed, by-the-books type of guy, and the only reading he must've done was when he was a young boy in school. A brute with no brains, or heart.

Besides the books, he had pictures taken capturing the wilderness's scenery. Such as a close-up of a tall pine tree, fog surrounding a mountain ridge, a crescent moon with stars, and a picture of a doe and her fawn in the forest.

Surprisingly, he had no pictures of himself or anybody else. Not even the members of his Inner Circle.

But the mansion's interior overall? It was nice, charming, even.

"I got you a water bottle." The sound of his voice pulled her out of her thoughts as he entered the space and gave her the bottle. There hadn't been a trace of anger on in his golden eyes, the heat in them had seemingly dissipated from earlier.

"Thanks," she said, watching as his body rounded the corner and took a seat on his leather chair behind his desk. At this, he nodded his head.

"Um, it seems like quite the cozy space," she tried as she undid the cap on the bottle and took a swig. Her eyes didn't break away from their sight on Silas.

"Thanks. I designed it with Theon years ago."

"Azura tells me he's the pack's lead architect."

"He is, among other things. Theon also serves as the pack lead engineer and invents new gear for us. He's very gifted with mechanics and turning anything on a blueprint into a physical thing."

Since Silas wasn't much of a talker and Rebel didn't know much about him, their conversation died quickly. During the silence, as he looked at a file on his desk, Rebel prepared herself for what was coming. Silas didn't bring her here on pleasant terms, after all.

"So, I think it would be in your best interests if you come to live with me instead of the Commons House like I initially had in mind," he was back to looking at her. Those golden-eyes eyes, constantly assessing, trying to read her. Throughout their lifetime, they had probably peeled away the layers behind hundreds of people, to see their deepest, darkest truths.

Her chest tightened and she felt her throat dry.

Rebel didn't want to be understood by him.

"Is this because of what happened earlier? During training?" Her voice was calm, attempting to engage on cordial terms.

"Partially."

A moment of silence stretched between the two as Rebel pressed her cheek against her knuckles in concentration.

"Why else?"

"Well, what King Salvatore had told me about you. I believe it would suit you best if you had a routine, which we could work to form together, and somewhere I could keep my eyes on you."

Rebel's lips twitched at the 'keep my eyes on you' comment, the only indication of her annoyance. When people weren't pleased with her, she was always equated with trouble.

This conversation with him felt like she was back in prison again. Instead of being trapped behind bars and monitored by guards and under surveillance cameras, she had the false illusion of freedom. The Alpha was still her ward, and she was his captive. Absolutely nothing had changed, and that was the cruelest realization of all.

"Um, I just don't get it. I did what you asked of me, didn't I?" Her brows drew together, creating a slight crease between them as her tone picked up more of an edge.

"Yes, you did, but you didn't do it how I asked you to." Silas saw her blue eyes drop, a momentary flash of hurt in them that she wanted to hide from his sight, but he saw it. He hated how he was pushing her.

Did Salvatore consider the implications her past had on her? How it shaped her? Maybe all this had been too sudden to throw her into, and she needed help first conquering her emotions and past trauma.

"I'm sorry, Rebel, but I need you to follow my directions. I need to know that I can trust you."

She could feel a migraine coming on as anger thrummed in her veins. There was so much feeling she was bottling up, so much from her past threatening to come to the surface again.

All the times Selene had scolded her when she was younger for going on adventures in the woods or accidentally breaking her belongings. Between her and Henrik, her aunt was always the bad cop, but now she knew she was harsh on her out of love. Too bad she never realized that when she was younger.

Then, Rahim, who pushed her to her limits and praised her. Hell, he even raised her through her childhood and as a teen like a father would his blood daughter, but then he lost his wife and things changed. Her adoptive father became more demanding and obsessed with his success. And in turn, this meant hers too, since she was his protégé. All for him to pin the blame for the most illegal aspects of his business on her and set her up which landed her in the cells for two years.

Rahim should've gone down, not her. Rebel was framed.

When she asked Sweet T where he had gone, during one of their conversations he said when King Cyrus's men had looked for him, he had fled. He had demolished the Assassin's Guild he had built with his own hands and hard work and went far away to some other continent.

Rebel swore if she ever got out of the prison, she'd hunt down Rahim and make him feel the mental agony she had been subjected to during her time in the cell and the Pits of Tartarus.

Then, her parents. Oh, her parents.

The two figures in her life that she had never remembered meeting. Rebel only had faceless glimpses of and stories Selene had told about them, mostly of her mother, but she took what she got. Supposedly, they died fighting for their beliefs and were slain in a battle by a wicked man tainted by every sin and wrong known to exist.

One of the first promises she made to herself as she rose through Rahim's ranks at such an accelerated speed was that the man who had killed her Mom and Dad would burn a thousand times over with her wrath. He'd feel her pain and torment until he begged Rebel to give him the grace of death. Only then would she consider, and if she granted his wish, she'd give him Hell. It was the only place he sounded like he belonged, anyway.

"Haven't you considered that people have different ways of doing things? There isn't exactly one way to shoot." Rebel crossed her arms, sizing him up.

"Yeah, but it wasn't what I requested," Silas responded dully, not daring to let his feelings get in the way of what needed to be said.

Yet, something deep down in Silas's gut had begun telling him to quit because he only saw their chat going nowhere. Though, he couldn't just call off the mission or even leave this discussion because he had been left at the mercy of the King. Salvatore was depending on him—on them—to be successful.

"Look, I'm sorry, Rebel," Silas released an exasperated sigh, his voice softening as one of his hands rubbed the top of his head, "but I need you to follow my directions. I need to know that I can trust you if we are going to be working together in the future."

There it was. That one word again that he utilized as a weapon. It made her feel like an idiot, and the gut-stabbing feeling had snaked under her skin.

Silas hated the uncomfortable and troublesome positions the King forced him into. Hell. The next time he saw the bastard, he would be demanding a pay raise. He dealt with too much shit.

"Trust?" Rebel repeated, the word sounding venom with the amount of bite she put in it. "You think I can trust you?"

"I—" Silas opened his mouth to protest, but she shot him an icy glare cold enough to freeze over the hottest desert.

"No, this whole mission Salvatore's leading is pointless," she snapped. "I don't think I can ever trust you and by the sound of what you're saying I think the same goes for you when it comes to me."

"I never said that, Rebel." Silas sighed, beginning to get a headache at her brash conclusions. She was so impertinent. "If we may go back a bit, please."

But the damage had already been done, and once the hurt started, Rebel would only go until one was standing. Rebel was set on that person being her.

"Today you made me feel like an idiot. You reprimanded me out on the field, embarrassing me in front of a crowd of people like a child," she scoffed. "And what was it for? To make yourself feel like some big, strong Alpha male?"

Silas sat quiet, taking the blows from her words. He'd chime in once she was done with her spiel.

"And you kiss Salvatore's ass. My King, the King, King Salvatore said this," she mocked. "Please, he's not even here. Why do you even bother? At the end of the day, he probably doesn't give a shit about anyone other than himself."

"You act so melancholic too. Something about you is just so sad, and you seem to be very angry, too. Pissed at the world when you don't get your way like when I saw you on your phone on Friday."

Salvatore had messaged him that day about how he'd be checking in with Rebel's progress in three weeks, though that wasn't the main source of his anger.

It still involved Salvatore but was another assignment he had given him. That night, Silas was summoned to the King's castle, given the assignment, and wasn't back until late afternoon the following day.

When he arrived back home, he was covered in dirt, and blood, and worn out. After a shower, he ended up crashing for three hours before waking up. This time, his responsibility as an Alpha was called on and he had to serve his people. Most nights he barely got a few hours of sleep, but when duty called whether it was for the king or his pack, he had to oblige.

Besides, he had been managing this strict routine for decades, although it still didn't make him wonder sometimes what life would be like had it been different.

Rebel's eyes narrowed in disgust as his silence baffled her. She was going off on him, but his expression didn't betray any emotion as he just took what she would give him.

Instead of returning her berating with rage-filled words of his own, Silas just listened with a blank stare. It was like he lacked emotion, or simply wouldn't give her an inch.

As perverse as it was, she would have preferred some semblance of response, even if it was his anger that met her back. At least then she would have known he was processing her words and considering them. She found the whole ordeal incredibly frustrating.

Consumed by an indescribable fit of rage, Rebel could only see red. She never realized that her words could be as lethal as her kill shots.

"You have no family of your own, and from what Azura told me, you're alone when you're not around your Inner Circle. Were they killed?"

Silas tried not to flinch but failed. He eyed her warily, his voice an octave lower as his golden eyes shone brightly, glazed with indiscernible emotion. "Rebel," he warned.

Rebel had obviously struck a nerve, and she wouldn't stop. Had she been in any other mental state, she recognized what she was doing was twisted and would have stopped, but something in her had snapped, and she just wanted to inflict the same amount of pain she had felt during these past two years on someone.

As fucked up as it was, she could tell Silas had a past like hers.

That he had suffered great loss and had emotional wounds that cut skin deep just as hers did. If she had to guess, he had probably seen shit that had left him with nightmares similar to the ones that had crept up on her some nights. Her nightmares had rendered her in a state of paralysis, screaming silently, she even inflicted physical pain on herself just to feel something different whenever they came, because she truly couldn't bear her worst emotional pains.

"Is that why you're so emotionally closed off? Because you lost your family and cannot stand the thought of you losing someone else?"

Silas dropped his head, looking at the desktop with intense focus. He placed his clenched fists on his desk, the veins in his hands bulging. An obvious sign of conflict. He was trying not to let her get the satisfaction of getting to him, but that would be an impossible task.

In most situations, the leash he kept his emotions on was tight and he would only allow people to see what he wanted. However, each word Rebel spoke of was crawling under her skin, and the worst part was she was right.

"I bet you cannot even look at yourself, knowing you could never bring them back whatever you may do. You live, but their memories haunt you whenever you close your eyelids."

She looked at the eye bags under his eyes. Arguably, his only physical flaw. The dark circles showed he craved rest, but he never got enough sleep to satisfy that need for a healthy amount of rest.

"And you would give anything to trade places with them. You blame yourself, wishing you were the one who suffered their fate. Who died because all you see yourself as during those dark times, is walking, talking piece of shit that doesn't even deserve the air in your lungs," the words were thrown at him, but in honesty, they applied to herself too.

Selene. Henrik. Her Mom and Dad.

Silas wanted to leave, but by then, he already slipped back into memory.

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"My love," the woman laying beside him had whispered sweetly in greeting at the sight of his eyes fluttering open. Nina was smiling as she rested her head on the pillow beside his, peering at him.

The simple sight made his chest swell.

He leaned over, gently caressing her ebony left cheek, the one not pressed against the pillow with the knuckles of his hand.

"How dare the sunrays kiss you before I do?" The Alpha mused with a playful smile on his lips as he felt the warmth of the sun on the back of his hand as he brushed over the area that had warmed her skin.

Nina rolled her eyes, and gently pushed her bare husband's chest, feeling the taut muscles of his pectorals. "Maybe it's because you fell asleep and couldn't beat the sunrise."

"And for that, the Sun just gave me more reason to steal it for you. You are the brightest thing in my life."

At his tender words, she couldn't help but beam.

"Mi sol," he muttered in his mother tongue before connecting his lips to hers and moving on top of her. He lifted the light sheet they had covered themselves with.

"We shouldn't, my darling. The time." Nina stroked his bearded cheek, with a gentle albeit sad smile. She knew what he wanted, and she wanted to, especially since they were trying to become a family.

However, Silas had duties to fulfill for the King. And if she had to go based on the couple's track record whenever they started their morning off on its proper routine, well, then they'd spend at least the entirety of morning and early noon in bed.

"Go get dressed. I'll make you some eggs, toast, and bacon for you to eat before I send you off," she reminded voice calm. "And promise, once you get back, we'll take a vacation for ourselves. . . just in the comfort of our home." Nina bit her bottom lip as she ran her hands over his back, feeling the grooves of his muscles.

Fuck. Her touch. It made something in his boxers stir. For someone who posed as the voice of reason between the two, her actions were giving a whole damn different argument.

Yet, his golden eyes softened, recognizing the meaning behind her words. God, he couldn't believe she was his wife, and that maybe in a few weeks, she'd be carrying their baby.

Doing as she asked, he got ready for the day.

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"Thank you for the delicious breakfast, Tesoro."  He hummed in appreciation, rising to his feet to wrap his arms around his wife.

"Too bad I must go. Maybe I should just tell Sangrea's King to piss off. Edmund doesn't care for supernaturals, has even used them for entertainment pitting them against each other in silly games. I don't see why we even try to convince the human monarchs. They will never see any of us as equals." Silas scorned.

"Hey, love, don't give up on me."

Nina held his face in her hands, gently caressing the sides of his head and looking into his golden eyes with her coffee-brown ones. "Some people are stubborn and take so much convincing, but I know your heart is in the right place. If you succeeded, won't it guarantee things are a bit more fair for all of us?"

After a moment of consideration, Silas nodded.

"You're going with Marshall. Plus, Salvatore is there to help you once you arrive in the king's court. And as all previous kings, Edmund pretty much agrees to whatever Salvatore suggests without much convincing since he's the true brains behind the operations."

"I know," he sighed, looking at her. "But, I'll be gone for two weeks. Are you sure you don't want to come with me? It's the longest we would be apart."

"Someone has to lead the pack. I'll be fine, my love." She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, whispering, "Plus we're doing this for our future little ones. They don't deserve to grow up in fear of being different."

"Right." Silas would do anything for her. For their future family.

"Just promise you'd come back to me safely." She grabbed his hands and placed chaste kisses on the back of both of them. "That's all I need to hear."

"I promise, Tesoro."

That was all she needed to hear before hugging him and kissing him goodbye.

"You better come back safe to me, Mister!" she yelled from the front of their doorstep.

He spun around on his heel and threw his head back, laughing. "And you better be waiting for me right where you are." His lips curled into a loving smile. "I love you!"

Little did Silas know that once he'd return home with Marshall. The community he had built with his wife and most trusted friends would be burned to ashes.

While the two were away, the rest of his pack was slain by wicked humans. His first Inner Circle hung in the middle of what was their original settlement. With Nina in the middle of the other three lifeless bodies.

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All the memories that went through his head were quick flashes of vivid color and feeling. Only a few moments had passed in the current time.

Rebel eyed him curiously, noting how at certain parts of his daze his hands shook and his lip wobbled.

Something inside her made Rebel's stomach churn, reaching the realization that she hated him so much because Silas reminded her of herself.

Sure, he annoyed her by being strict and demanding respect. Although, the main reason she launched her attack on him was that he managed to get under her skin because whenever Rebel looked at him—in his honey-brown eyes filled with emotion—she felt like she was like looking at her reflection in a mirror.

She deeply hated herself. More than anyone else.

Rebel hated her existence beyond reasonable belief. Although, the two times she had attempted to end her life, she had failed. Rahim had caught her the first time. During this time, Tahira was still alive, the two had her placed under their watch for three months until her darkest thoughts abated.

But the second time, a few years later, when Rebel held the dagger Selene had gifted her to her wrist, it dropped to the ground upon contact. She didn't dare to pick it up after that.

Rebel had cried herself to sleep that night in the darkness of her room, knees curled into herself, swearing she was a spineless coward that couldn't even follow through with what had gotten to her head during her depression episode. From the shadows of her room and mind, the cynical whispers taunted and ate at her. "Foolish, foolish, girl," they chanted. "Too miserable to even bring herself to death to end her suffering."

Prick or not, Silas seemed like an honest, loyal man. He followed a strict moral code and had full control of his emotions. In spite of his pain, he seemed to have it all under control.

Yet, for whatever reason, Rebel struggled with feeling every emotion tenfold. In all her twenty-two years, she had never seized full control of them. Her darkest, deepest pains outweighed her times of joy, and they left her emotionally crippled most nights, even now.

So shattering that mirror would allow her to just get some temporary semblance of peace just so Silas wouldn't remind her of herself and she wasn't so overwhelmed with feeling.

"I hate you. For what you made me feel," the redhead spoke, breaking the silence as her clenched fists shook with rage. "And for what it's worth, I'm sure the world would have been a much better place had you died instead of your loved ones."

And it was in that instant—his trance and leashed control had snapped. Silas had reached Rebel in a flash and had her pressed against the back couch. His chest thundered against hers with the force of his heavy breaths. It was like he was gulping down air as if his lungs had caught on fire during the state he had been in before.

Unsuspecting of the surprise, Rebel's eyes went from narrowed with pure despise to rounded with fright. She was truly scared of him now because she didn't know what he would do.

Honestly, she deserved the worst for all the ugly things she said. She deserved death, and if he had killed her at that moment, she wouldn't have minded since she had lost all she had ever loved.

All it would take is a single moment, given his skill and strength.

In those seconds, she sucked down a breath and closed her eyes.

But instead, Silas slowly processed his surroundings, breaking free of whatever spell he had fallen under. His fingernails dug into the back of the couch and when he tilted his chin, he saw how the former assassin's eyes were sealed, her chest pressed against his as she took shuddering breaths.

He swore he heard the rapid thrumming of her heartbeat in his eardrums. She was racked with fright of him, trembling, but fighting something invisible too. A feeling snaked into his stomach.

Oh, Rebel.

Then, a single word, no, a name fell from his lips.

"Nina," he groaned. Silas blinked, coming back to the present. "Nina would not want me to do this." His words had pulled her back to the present too, and Rebel opened her blue eyes, finding him.

Rebel didn't have a clue as to who Nina was, but she could by his tone and the way his face had shifted into grieving realization. It told her whoever this Nina was, she was very important to him.

Realizing that he was scaring her to some degree, Silas pulled away from her, getting off the couch in a hurry.

Rebel had said some awful things, but was he a monster? What would have happened had he not broken out of his trance. . he wouldn't bear  the thought.

"I-I'm so sorry. I'll have one of the members of the Inner Circle get in contact with you. Probably Azura as she seems to have taken a liking to you. I have to leave now."

Without another word, the Alpha left the room.

Perhaps it was instinct or a result of the adrenaline that had flooded her veins, but when Rebel jumped out of her seat and looked out the front door to see where he went, Silas was nowhere to be seen. Only the dark blue night sky and twinkling stars met her back.

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I can already see some people criticizing rebel in this chapter because of all the things she said to silas.

however, this is a dark enemies to lovers and mental illness plays a significant role in this book. please proceed with caution if any of these themes may be triggering.

however, i try to be realistic in my books. with that said, i'm not excusing what rebel said but people react differently with feelings, and may not have the best judgment when struggling with depression/going through grief and trauma, but i just want to emphasize why she said such things.

and yes, p521 will be updated next. i've just been working on the next three chapters, and i'm trying to organize them. expect the first update by tuesday